Between Us

☆ part twenty two ☆

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan and Liam's steady breathing beside me. He was asleep, his chest rising and falling in a soothing rhythm. He looked peaceful, his face soft and relaxed in the dim light from the moon filtering through the curtains. Sweet, kind, dependable Liam. I turned onto my side, my back to him, staring at the shadows stretching across the wall. My mind was anything but peaceful. Why had I run?

The question had been haunting me ever since I'd left Lark on that tree branch over the lake. The moment her lips had touched mine, it was like the world had shifted. Everything else fell away, and there was just her—the warmth of her mouth, the way her fingers had curled against the wood, the faint scent of her skin mingling with the earthy smell of the lake. It had felt right. No, not just right. It had felt... electric. Like every nerve in my body had lit up, every thought wiped clean, every emotion focused entirely on her. And then I ran. Why?

The answer was lying beside me. Liam. Sweet, perfect Liam. My heart twisted painfully as I looked at him over my shoulder. He didn't deserve this—this mess of a person who couldn't even figure out her own feelings. He deserved someone who was as steady and certain as he was. Someone who wouldn't kiss his sister and then lie awake at night wondering why she couldn't stop thinking about it. I closed my eyes, willing sleep to come, but it was impossible. Lark's face flashed in my mind—the way her lips had parted when I pulled away, the hurt in her eyes. The sound of her voice as she apologized, even though she had nothing to apologize for. She thought I didn't want it. But I did. God, I did.

The song at the fire pit... I hadn't been able to look away from her as she played. It was like she'd poured every ounce of emotion she had into the melody, into the words. And I knew, deep down, that song was for me. She didn't even have to say it. It was in her voice, in the way she'd looked at me across the fire, unguarded and vulnerable. Lark didn't regret the kiss, I think at least. But I did. Not because I didn't want it, but because I'd left her. Because I'd run away and left her sitting on that branch, probably thinking I hated her for it. Because I hadn't been brave enough to face her or my own feelings.

I sighed, pressing my palms to my eyes, trying to block out the flood of thoughts. It was useless. Liam shifted beside me, mumbling something in his sleep, and I froze. My guilt was a tangible weight pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. How could I think about Lark like this when Liam was right here, loving me with everything he had? But that was the problem. I wasn't sure I loved him back. Not in the way he deserved. He was perfect, wasn't he? Sweet and attentive, always putting me first. The kind of boyfriend you dream about. But it wasn't enough. Lark's face, her voice, the way she'd kissed me—they were all I could think about. I felt like I was coming apart at the seams.

Did I deny myself something real by blocking Lark out? Did I throw away a chance at something that could make me truly happy? The thought was unbearable, but so was the idea of hurting Liam. He was everything I should want. So why did I feel like I was drowning? I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. The darkness felt suffocating, pressing in around me, amplifying every thought, every feeling. I couldn't do this. Carefully, I slid out of bed, doing my best not to disturb Liam. He mumbled something unintelligible but didn't wake, and I slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind me.

The house was quiet, the faint sound of crickets filtering in through the windows. My bare feet made almost no sound against the wooden floor as I padded down the hallway. I didn't have a destination in mind—I just needed to move, to breathe, to think. The kitchen was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon spilling in through the window. The silence felt oppressive, wrapping around me like a heavy blanket. I sat at the counter, arms wrapped around myself, my thoughts spiraling in every direction. I had run away. Again. The memory of Lark's kiss played over and over in my mind, a relentless loop that I couldn't escape. The warmth of her lips, the way her hand had cupped my face—it all felt too vivid, too real. And yet I had left.

Why? Why hadn't I stayed? Why hadn't I told her how I felt? The answer was lying upstairs, peacefully asleep, completely unaware of the chaos inside me. Liam. Sweet, kind, perfect Liam. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve me sneaking out of bed, replaying the kiss I'd shared with his sister. My stomach churned at the thought. I didn't regret the kiss. That was the problem. I couldn't regret it, no matter how much I tried. I buried my face in my hands, my breathing uneven. The guilt was unbearable, but so was the longing. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Lark—her smile, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, the way she looked at me, like I was the only person in the world who mattered.

The sound of soft footsteps pulled me out of my thoughts. My head snapped up, and I saw her standing in the doorway. Lark. She looked tired, her hair slightly messy and her sweatshirt hanging loosely on her frame. But even like this, in the middle of the night, she looked beautiful. "Couldn't sleep?" she asked, her voice quiet, almost hesitant. I shook my head, my throat too tight to speak. "Same," she said softly.

She walked into the kitchen, moving with that quiet grace she always had. She opened a cabinet, pulled out a glass, and filled it with water. The sound of the tap running felt impossibly loud in the stillness. I watched her, my heart pounding. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words felt stuck in my throat. She turned back toward me, leaning against the counter as she sipped her water. Her gaze flicked to me briefly, and then back down to her glass. I couldn't take it anymore. "Lark," I blurted out, my voice trembling. "Can we please talk about it?"

She froze, her fingers tightening slightly around the glass. For a moment, she didn't say anything. Then she sighed softly and set the glass down on the counter. "There's nothing to talk about," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have done it." Her words hit me like a punch to the gut.

"Do you mean that?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. She didn't look at me, her gaze fixed on the glass. "Do you regret it?" I pressed, my heart hammering in my chest. "Lark, please. Be honest." The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. It felt like the whole world had stopped, waiting for her answer. Finally, she looked up at me. Her eyes were filled with so much emotion that it made my chest ache.

"No," she said softly. "I don't regret it." Relief flooded through me, so overwhelming that I felt like I might collapse. Without thinking, I stood up and closed the distance between us. I took the glass of water from her hands and set it aside. Then, before I could stop myself, I wrapped my arms around her.

She stiffened for a moment, and then she relaxed, her arms coming up to hold me just as tightly. "I'm glad you don't regret it" I whispered, my voice barely audible. I felt her exhale against me, a soft, shaky breath that sent a shiver down my spine. She pulled back slightly, just enough to look at me. Her eyes searched mine, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world didn't exist. But then reality crashed back down on me. "But I can't do this," I said, my voice trembling. Her face fell, and the hurt in her eyes was almost too much to bear. "I want to," I said quickly, desperate to explain. "I do. But I can't go behind Liam's back. I can't do that to him. He doesn't deserve it, Lark. He's been so good to me, and I can't just..." I trailed off, my voice breaking.

Lark was silent for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly, her expression softening. "I understand," she said quietly. "I don't want to go behind his back either. And I don't want you to feel rushed or pressured. You need to do what's right for you." Her words were so gentle, so understanding, that they made my chest ache. How could she be so patient, so selfless?

"I just..." My voice cracked. "I just need time. To talk to him. To figure everything out."

"I'll wait for you," she said softly. "As long as it takes. I'd wait for eternity if I had to." Her words hit me like a tidal wave, and I felt tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. I hugged her again, holding her tightly like I was afraid she might disappear if I let go. She pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, her lips lingering for just a moment before she pulled away. "Let's go to bed," she murmured, her voice full of quiet affection. I nodded, unable to find the words to respond.

As we walked back to the bedrooms, my heart was heavy with guilt and confusion, but for the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe—just maybe—things could work out.