The next morning arrived with a soft, steady rain—not heavy, not sharp, just enough to blur the edges of Willowridge into watercolor. It felt familiar. Comforting. But Sienna felt different walking through it.
She didn’t rush. Didn’t tuck herself into her jacket the way she used to. Instead, she let the rain rest lightly on her sleeves, her steps unhurried as she made her way toward the library. Something in her had shifted, imperceptibly but undeniably, and the world seemed to notice.
When she reached the front steps, she saw him—leaning against the brick wall beside the door, umbrella closed, hair damp, hands tucked into his coat pockets. Waiting.
He wasn’t pretending not to wait.
He wasn’t casually passing time.
He was simply there.
When he noticed her, his shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit, as if he’d been holding a breath without realizing it.
“Morning,” he said, voice warm despite the chill.
“Morning,” she said, feeling the word settle gently between them.
She unlocked the door, and together they stepped inside. The soft clink of the bell overhead felt different today, almost like it was acknowledging something between them.
Liam set the umbrella aside and followed her behind the counter—closer than he normally stood, close enough that she could feel the quiet warmth radiating off him.
“You’re early,” she said.
“So are you.”
She paused. “I didn’t think you’d be waiting.”
“I wasn’t sure if I should,” he admitted. “But I wanted to.”
The truth in his tone was light, but sincere enough to make her chest tighten.
“I don’t mind,” she said before she could overthink it.
His smile was small but genuine. “Good.”
The kettle in the staff room clicked as she set it to boil. Liam leaned against the doorframe, watching her with the kind of soft attention that made her fingertips feel warm.
“You okay?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.
She hesitated, then nodded. “Just… thinking.”
“About yesterday?”
Her eyes flickered to his. “Maybe.”
He pushed off the doorframe slowly, closing the distance by just a step—one careful, deliberate step.
“If anything I said made you uncomfortable—”
“It didn’t,” she said quickly.
He froze for half a second—not alarmed, but surprised.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Good.”
Steam began to curl from the kettle, filling the small room with warmth. Sienna focused on the cups, steadying her breath, because his presence felt like something quietly anchoring her.
“When I said I came back,” Liam said, voice low, “I meant it. I didn’t want you to think it was just… being polite.”
Sienna’s hands paused over the teabags. “You usually aren’t polite for no reason.”
He laughed under his breath. “True. But still. I wanted you to know.”
She prepared the tea in silence, handing him a cup. Their fingers brushed again—maybe by accident, maybe not—but neither pulled away quickly.
He held the cup with both hands, warming his fingers. “You seem quieter today.”
She looked up at him, brows lifting slightly. “Quieter than usual?”
“Different quieter,” he clarified. “The kind that feels... thoughtful.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that, because she didn’t know how he could read her so easily.
“Just trying to understand things,” she murmured.
“Things?” His tone was gentle, but it didn’t miss anything.
Sienna exhaled. “You.”
He blinked once—slowly—as if processing the fact that she’d said it out loud.
“Oh,” he said.
She nearly winced. “Is that—too much?”
He shook his head immediately, stepping one small step closer. “No. Not too much.”
Their quiet filled the room again—soft, steady, warm—and this time, it didn’t feel like something to escape.
The library opened. Patrons wandered in. Nora arrived, dripping and determined, shooting the two of them a knowing look before bustling off to her desk.
But even as the day slipped into its usual rhythm, the space between Sienna and Liam carried something new. Something tentative. Something waiting.
Something closer.
The day unfolded quietly, but Sienna felt every moment with a strange new intensity—as if the air itself had shifted just a few degrees warmer. Every time she moved behind the counter, she was aware of Liam sitting at the nearest table, sorting through a stack of local history books with an absent focus that didn’t fool her for a second.
He was listening for her.
Just as she was listening for him.
Around noon, Nora declared she was going on her break and “would definitely not interrupt any emotionally charged atmospheres,” then dramatically tiptoed out. The moment the door shut, the library seemed to breathe differently.
Sienna shelved the last of the morning returns and glanced over. Liam looked up at the exact same moment, as if pulled by the same thread.
“Lunch?” he asked.
She considered it—really considered it.
It wasn’t the question itself.
It was what it implied. The step it would be.
Another shift. Another door opening.
“…Okay,” she said softly.
They walked to the bakery next door. The rain had softened to a fine mist, clinging to their coats. It made the world feel smaller, closer. They stood in line together, not touching but not far, the quiet between them easy and full.
Liam ordered a sandwich. Sienna ordered a pastry she hadn’t tried in years. They sat by the window, watching drops slide down the glass in thin, trembling lines.
“Is it weird?” he asked suddenly.
“What?”
“Being here with me.”
She blinked. “Is it weird for you?”
He shook his head. “No. It feels… right. But I don’t want to assume it’s the same for you.”
Sienna looked down at her pastry. The first bite was softer than she expected—warm, sweet, almost nostalgic. She swallowed.
“It doesn’t feel wrong,” she said quietly. “I’m just… not used to this.”
“What part?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.
“This,” she said, gesturing vaguely between them. “Someone sitting with me.”
Liam’s expression softened. “I can sit quieter if that helps.”
She almost laughed. “It doesn’t.”
“Good,” he murmured.
They ate slowly. Without hurry. Without pressure. Without needing to fill the space with noise. For Sienna, the silence used to mean something was missing. But here—with him—it meant the opposite.
When they finished, he held the door for her again. She stepped out into the mist, and he angled his umbrella so it covered her a little more than himself.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said softly.
“I know,” he said. “But I want to.”
Her heart stuttered just enough for her to notice it.
Back at the library, the afternoon unfolded in a comfortable haze. People came in with damp coats and dripping umbrellas. Shelves filled and emptied. The usual rhythm of the town resumed, but Sienna found herself glancing at the clock more often—not because she wanted the day to end, but because she didn’t want it to pass too quickly.
She looked at him. He looked at her.
No words, but something moved.
By closing time, the rain had thickened again, steady and rhythmic. Liam helped her stack chairs even though she didn’t ask. When they finished, the two of them stood by the door, their reflections faint in the glass.
“Want me to walk you home?” he asked.
“You always do,” she said.
His smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I like patterns.”
“So do I,” she admitted softly.
They stepped out into the rain, the umbrella blooming above them like a small shelter made of everything unsaid. Their steps matched without trying.
Halfway down the street, Liam spoke.
“Can I say something?”
She felt her pulse jump. “Yes.”
“I like seeing you like this.”
“…Like what?” she whispered.
“Like you’re letting yourself breathe,” he said. “Like you’re letting someone walk beside you.”
Her breath caught. The rain softened around them.
“Sienna,” he said, slowing his steps, “you don’t have to rush anything. But… I’m not going anywhere. And I don’t want you to feel like you’re walking alone anymore.”
Her fingers curled inside her sleeve. She didn’t look at him immediately. She didn’t need to.
“I don’t feel alone,” she said finally.
Liam exhaled—a soft, relieved sound.
When they reached her building, he didn’t step away right away. Neither did she.
“Tomorrow?” he asked.
“Tomorrow,” she echoed.
He lingered—just long enough for her to notice, not long enough for her to fear it.
Goodnight hung in the air between them, spoken without words.
He walked away.
She didn’t go inside until she could no longer hear his footsteps.
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