Chapter 17: Between Us

MAEVE

I waited in the tiny grove just outside the pack lands, listening to every rustle, every crunch of a leaf underfoot. My heart thudded in my chest, the nerves coiling tighter as the minutes ticked by, each one stretching thin. After everything, I wasn't even sure what I'd say to him.

This had been his spot back in the day, back when things were simple — before covens and blood moons and the kind of tangled mess I'd never dreamed we'd end up in. 

He used to bring me here, tell me it was the only place he could think straight, tucked away from pack pressures and away from his family's constant watchful eyes. At the time, I'd thought it was romantic, a little hidden piece of him that was just for us.

Now, standing here, I felt the quiet buzz of the forest around me in a way I hadn't noticed before. It was only now that I realized just how alive this place was, with the invisible eyes and ears of creatures and spirits that could just as easily see or hear us. If it wasn't someone from Liam's pack, then it could easily be one of the dryads — ancient tree spirits who made the groves and forests their home. The dryads kept to themselves, mostly, but they were far from unobservant; in fact, I'd heard from Siobhan that they could sense every single movement within their lands.

The thought made my skin prickle. Whatever we will talk about tonight, it might not stay as private as I'd once assumed.

My heart thudded in my chest, the nerves coiling tighter as the minutes ticked by, each one stretching thin. After everything, I wasn't even sure what I'd say to him.

Maybe I'd crack a joke. I'd break the tension with something sharp and ridiculous, anything to distract from the knot of dread that had me strangled. 

But even that felt wrong. The last time Liam and I talked, it was all pain and regret, and here I was, about to try and find a way to speak like nothing was broken. But things were broken. They had shattered so thoroughly I wasn't sure we could piece them back together.

"Maeve."

His voice slipped through the darkening air before his figure did, as familiar as anything had ever been. I turned, and there he was — messy sun-kissed hair, face etched in fatigue and worry, his presence overwhelming even in the quiet. Seeing him was like the sensation of slipping into a memory that feels good until it aches.

"I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost." I tried to keep my tone light, the barest edge of a smirk tugging at my lips.

He didn't respond, just stared at me, his jaw tight. I swallowed, feeling the weight of his silence like a punch. 

No jokes. Not this time. 

I let my mouth snap shut as I waited for him to speak, realizing that this was not going to be the easy conversation I'd half-convinced myself it could have.

Finally, he stepped closer, every movement tense as if he had to physically hold back. "Do you have any idea what it's like to watch you…with him?" His voice was strained, and the rawness of it broke through every barrier I had tried to fortify in myself. "To know I can't…can't stop any of it?"

The words hit harder than I expected. There were a thousand ways to tell him that it wasn't my fault, that I didn't choose this life with Ronan, but that would feel like too simple an answer, a hollow excuse.

"I hate it too, Liam," I said quietly. "More than you'll ever know. But I didn't get a choice. They pushed me into that wedding like I was some pawn they could toss around for political points. You know that…" My voice wavered, barely holding back the bitterness.

He sighed, looking away, his fists clenched at his sides. "I just… I thought I'd be there for you. I thought, somehow, I'd be able to stop it, to speak up, to do something that mattered."

"And yet, you didn't." The words slipped out sharper than I intended. He flinched, and I immediately wished I could take them back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just…" I pressed a hand to my forehead, frustrated by the rush of emotion clawing up my throat. "I needed you then, Liam. I needed you to say something, to fight for me. But you just stood there."

For a long moment, he said nothing, just watched me with an intensity that felt both familiar and alien. "I know I failed you," he said finally, the words thick and raw. "I just… I didn't know what to do, Maeve. Over the years they'd told me to stand down, to let things play out, and by then, it was like I wasn't even myself anymore. I was… nothing."

Hearing him put it that way, I felt my own anger falter. I knew what it felt like to be stripped of control, to be used as a tool in someone else's scheme. Liam and I, we'd both been pawns, sacrificed in the name of someone elses games.

"I was scared, too, you know," I murmured. "That day…I was furious at you, but I was terrified of all of it. The magic, the blood moon, the Coven. And Ronan…he's a whole storm I wasn't ready for. I didn't want any of it, Liam."

A slight, bitter laugh escaped him. "I've missed you, Maeve. Even as I watched you become something I can't reach anymore, even as you stand there bound to him, I still want you more than anything else. It's hell."

And there it was, the admission neither of us had been brave enough to give voice to. My throat tightened as I looked at him, the Liam who had once been my safe haven, my partner. "I miss you too. But…" My voice dropped, barely a whisper. "It feels like we're living on opposite sides of a barricade, and I don't know how to bridge it."

He stepped closer, his hand hovering as if he wanted to reach for mine, but didn't dare. "Maybe we're both lost, but at least…at least we can say it out loud. We can stop pretending this isn't tearing us apart."

I felt the weight of everything — the last few weeks, the ceremonies, the public appearances — all of it crashing down at once. I sucked in a deep breath, the air stinging as it hit my lungs. 

"I don't know how to do this," I admitted, looking him dead in the eyes, feeling the desperation slip into my voice. "Liam, I'm losing myself. I don't know how to handle the press, the bond with Ronan, your mothers schemes, and then there are these visions…"

He stiffened, the raw concern in his eyes making my heart twist. "Visions?"

I nodded, the confession spilling out before I could stop it. "They come out of nowhere. Visions of Isabelle — bloody and terrified — and I don't know if they're real or some horrible side effect of the rituals. I didn't even know how to tell you because…well, first, we haven't exactly been talking that much, and second, part of me is afraid of what it all means."

Liam's gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked like the Liam I remembered, the one who would listen to every insecurity I had and reassure me with quiet confidence. "Maeve, you should have told me."

The words felt like a lifeline. I closed my eyes, absorbing his presence, letting it ground me in a way nothing else had in weeks. "You should have told me that you're looking for Isabelle. And to be honest I didn't want you to look at me like I was…" I swallowed. "Broken. Or cursed. I mean, I've barely held it together as it is. And now, everyone's watching me, waiting for me to slip."

Liam reached for my hand, his grip warm and steady. "You're not broken, Maeve. And you're certainly not alone." He hesitated, as if weighing something heavy, before finally saying, "Maeve, I know I've been a disappointment lately, and maybe I don't deserve your trust anymore, but I'll do everything I can to make this right."

His sincerity was a balm to my raw, aching heart. I gave him a small smile, trying to gather the courage to voice the hope that had kept me hanging on. "I hope that we can all go back to…to what we were."

Liam's eyes hardened, but there was something else in them too—a glint of determination. "I will find Isabelle. And I haven't just been running around looking for her, Maeve. I've been trying to find ways to help you, to keep you safe, even if it doesn't always look that way."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my curiosity piqued by the shift in his demeanor.

He took a step back, folding his arms as if preparing for a confession he wasn't sure he wanted to make. "Who do you think gave the press the hint that you were mine?"