Chapter 12: What Are You Doing, Liam?

Liam’s eyes narrowed, a dark expression crossing his face. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. "What did you just say?" His tone was ice cold.

Allie blinked, her vision still foggy, and mumbled, "Nick... I thought you were him... I thought... Lawson..." Her words were barely more than a whisper, lost in the haze of the moment.

Liam’s face hardened as the words hit him like a punch to the gut. A cold fire ignited in his chest, and his jaw clenched.

He couldn’t keep the irritation in check.

He leaned over her, his hands gripping her face with a firmness that felt like control, but Allie could see the sharp anger beneath. "Allison, look at me," he demanded, his voice low and demanding. "I’m not him."

She blinked again, struggling to focus, but his cold fingers were pulling her out of the dreamlike state. He noticed how her cheeks felt cool, the faintest dampness on her skin.

Liam’s breath hitched for a second as he saw the tears starting to fall from her closed eyes.

She wasn’t awake, but the tears slipped from the corner of her eyes anyway. A sight that hit him harder than it should’ve.

"Allie," he murmured, his voice softening for a second. He stepped away quickly, grabbing a warm towel from the

bedside table. He sat on the edge of the bed, wiping away the silent tears that kept falling.

She stirred, a soft murmur escaping her lips as she began to wake up. The feeling was surreal, like being in a dream.

The world around her felt distant, but the warmth and care from Liam felt like an anchor.

She opened her eyes, blinking in confusion. The first thing she saw was Liam’s face, his eyes filled with something she

couldn’t quite place. He was being so careful, so tender.

It made her feel safe… and yet so vulnerable at the same time.

In a haze, she leaned up and kissed him. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t calculated. Just a spur of the moment action.

It was bold. Uncharacteristic for her. But with the alcohol still lingering, she wanted closeness, wanted something real, and the distance between them was unbearable.

Her hands found their way to his neck, and she pulled herself closer.

Liam froze. His whole body stiffened, a tension building that he couldn’t quite shake off. He’d never seen Allie like this, so forward, so desperate.

But then, when her hands began to slide lower, he snapped.

With a sharp movement, he grabbed her wrists, his voice cold but laced with something darker. "Allie, are you... in heat?"

Her lips parted in shock, the words cutting her to the core.

She pulled away quickly, staring at him, her breath catching. "What...?" Her voice trembled. "Did you just say that?"

Liam didn’t even flinch. His face was a mask of coldness, the disgust clear in his eyes. The warmth from earlier had vanished completely, leaving behind something much colder.

"You... think that about me?" Her voice was barely audible, the hurt so deep it made her chest ache.

Liam’s eyes flicked to the side as he stood up abruptly. "I’m going to take a shower. Get some rest."

The words were dismissive. Cold.

Allie stayed in the bed, staring at the empty space where he had been, her mind racing. The rejection, the disgust... It shattered something in her. If he hated her so much, why was he even here? Why did he even stay?

Liam’s footsteps echoed faintly as he walked toward the bathroom, the sound of the shower turning on a few moments

later.

Allie lay there, her chest tight, feeling a tear slip down her cheek. Her mind replayed everything — the hurtful words, the sudden coldness. How could he do this?

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In the bathroom, Liam stood under the cold water, the freezing stream doing nothing to calm the fire raging inside him.

His thoughts were scattered, his emotions raw. How could she have confused him with him? It was all too much.

The image of Allie’s sudden boldness, the desperate way she reached for him — it threw him off. He wanted to push her away but couldn't. Then he remembered her calling him "Nick." That burned.

He slammed his fist against the bathroom wall, the sound echoing in the small room.

"I can't do this," he muttered to himself, his anger surging. "Not like this."

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Later, when he finally stepped out of the shower, the house was silent. He grabbed a towel, draping it over his shoulders as he walked to the guest room, the weight of the tension heavy in the air.

Allie had heard the door close. It felt like a knife in her chest, slicing through any hope she had left.

She wanted to scream. To cry. But nothing came out. The only thing she could do was bury herself under the covers and let the tears fall silently.

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The next morning, Allie woke up early, her mind still tangled in the mess of emotions from the night before. She tried to

shake it off, to forget.

She was getting ready when she heard noises coming from the kitchen. Curiosity pulled her in.

And there he was, Liam. Standing in front of the stove, cooking breakfast. It wasn’t something she expected, not after everything that had happened.

She hesitated, then walked into the kitchen. "You’re... cooking?" The surprise was evident in her voice.

Liam didn’t look up from his task, his voice low. "It’s not much, but it’s something."

Allie stood there, uncertain. Was this the same man who had just rejected her, who had dismissed her feelings so easily? Yet, here he was, cooking.

She couldn’t find the words to respond. Instead, she just stood there, watching him, the confusion and hurt still burning in her chest.

What was going on with them? What was this?