Between Us

☆ part twenty seven ☆

The car was suffocatingly silent. Liam was sitting in the passenger seat, turned slightly toward Lark as he tried to get her to talk. "You sure you're okay? You've been weirdly quiet today," he said for the third time since we left the lake house.

Lark's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel, her knuckles paling as she stared at the road. "I'm fine," she said, her tone flat and dismissive. I bit my lip and glanced out the window, pretending to watch the scenery blur past, but I wasn't really seeing anything. I was hyper-aware of every sound in the car: the soft hum of the engine, the occasional tapping of Liam's fingers against the dashboard, and the faint creak of the leather seat as I shifted uncomfortably.

Lark wasn't fine. That much was obvious. Her shoulders were stiff, and she hadn't peeled her gaze away from the road once since we started driving. Normally, Lark would have some sarcastic remark or a teasing comment to throw into the mix, but now she was a ghost of herself, silent and closed-off. I knew that look. I knew that coldness. Lark only got like this when she was upset—when something was really eating at her. Guilt twisted in my stomach, a heavy weight that refused to go away. This was my fault. All of it. I shifted again, stealing a glance at her through the rearview mirror. Her expression was unreadable, but her jaw was tight, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Seriously, though," Liam pressed on, his voice light but with a hint of concern, "you don't have to drive the whole way. I can take over if you're tired or something."

"I'm fine," she repeated, her voice clipped.

The tension in the car was unbearable. I wanted to say something, anything, to break it, but I didn't even know where to start. What could I possibly say to make this better? I glanced at Liam, who seemed oblivious to the weight in the air. He leaned back in his seat, fiddling with his phone, occasionally glancing at me with a small smile. I forced myself to smile back, but it felt hollow. This wasn't how I imagined the drive home. I had spent all morning feeling a confusing mix of giddiness and guilt. The memory of Lark's touch, her words, and the way she had kissed my forehead still lingered in my mind, like a secret warmth I didn't want to let go of. But now, seeing her like this—seeing how distant and hurt she seemed—I couldn't shake the feeling that I had ruined something.

"Do you think we'll beat the storm back?" Liam asked, his tone casual, like he was trying to fill the silence.

Lark gave a half-hearted shrug. "Maybe." The sound of her voice was enough to make my chest ache. She wasn't just upset—she was shutting down. I had seen her do it before, but this time, it was different. This time, it felt personal.

I glanced out the window again, hoping the scenery would distract me, but all I could think about was the tension in the car, the way my skin prickled with awareness every time I looked at her. "Hey, Soph?" Liam's voice broke through my thoughts.

"Hm?" I turned to him, trying to mask the turmoil inside me.

"You've been quiet, too. Are you good?"

I nodded quickly, too quickly. "Yeah, just...ready to be home, I guess."

He smiled, reaching back to give my knee a squeeze. "Long weekend, huh?"

I forced a laugh, nodding again. "Yeah." My eyes flicked to Lark again. She didn't react to Liam's touch or my voice. It was like she had built a wall around herself, shutting us both out.

The rest of the drive passed in the same strange silence, Liam occasionally trying to start a conversation, only for it to die out after a few mumbled responses from Lark. The uneasiness in my stomach grew with every mile, and by the time we finally pulled into my driveway, I felt like I could barely breathe. Lark parked the car, cutting the engine without a word. She opened the door and stepped out, slinging a bag over shoulder and heading inside without waiting for either of us. "She's definitely in one of her moods," Liam muttered as he grabbed his bag.

I didn't respond, my eyes following Lark's retreating figure as she unlocked the door and  disappeared into the house. The weight in my chest grew heavier. This wasn't just a mood. This was me. This was us. And I had no idea how to fix it.

The weight of the weekend felt heavier as I dragged my bag toward the stairs. My arms ached, and the silence between Liam, Lark, and me didn't help. Liam was being sweet, taking the heavier bags, but Lark hadn't said much since we arrived. She hovered nearby, her presence quiet but intense, her gaze barely meeting mine. I knew she wasn't okay, and it was killing me. As we made it up the stairs, Liam glanced over his shoulder with a smile. "Almost there, Soph," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, thanks," I murmured, managing a small smile back.

When we reached my room, Liam dropped the bag he was carrying onto the floor and turned to me. He leaned in, kissing my cheek softly. "I'll see you later, okay?" he said.

"Okay," I replied, though my voice felt distant, hollow. I caught the way Lark's jaw clenched, her lips pressing into a tight line as she turned her face away. My chest tightened. That's what was making her so sad—Liam. This whole situation.

Liam didn't seem to notice. He stepped out of the room, glancing back briefly at Lark. "I'll meet you in the car, yeah?"

"Yeah," Lark replied shortly, not meeting his gaze.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence in the room thickened, wrapping around us like a suffocating fog. Lark stood motionless, her eyes fixed on the door Liam had just walked through. I set my bag down and turned to her. "What's upsetting you?" I asked softly, my voice breaking through the quiet. She didn't respond, didn't even glance my way. She just kept staring at the door, her body stiff and unreadable. "Lark," I said, stepping forward. My heart ached seeing her like this. I reached out and grabbed her hand gently, threading my fingers through hers. "Tell me, please. I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong. Please, Lark. Her hand was cold in mine, her grip weak, but she didn't pull away. Slowly, her eyes flicked to mine, and I saw it—everything she was holding back. The sadness, the frustration, the fear.

I reached up with my free hand and brushed her dark hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her expression crumpled slightly, and for a moment, I thought she was going to cry. Lark finally spoke, her voice low and raw. "I just hate seeing you two together," she admitted, her words trembling with emotion. "It's a reminder of what I can't have... and what's at stake." I swallowed hard, my chest tightening at her honesty. She looked down at our joined hands and shook her head, her voice gaining a bitter edge. "I want you so bad, Soph. But you're not mine. And... and my brother is going to get caught in the firing line if this all falls apart. I can't fucking cope with the consequences of us."

Her words pierced me, each one sinking deeper into my chest. I felt the guilt rise again, that unbearable weight I couldn't seem to shake. But there was something else, too—determination. "Lark," I started, but she didn't let me finish.

"There are so many things between us, Sophie," she said, her voice cracking. "So many reasons this shouldn't work. It's almost impossible." She pulled her hand away from mine, pacing a few steps as she ran a hand through her hair. She looked so torn, so fragile, like she was barely holding herself together.

I couldn't take it anymore. I stepped forward, grabbed her face gently in my hands, and made her look at me. Her eyes were glossy, her lips slightly parted, and my heart broke all over again. "I want you, Lark," I said firmly, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "Only you. I always have. I was just too ignorant to see it before.",Her eyes searched mine, flicking between them as if she didn't believe me. "I'm not losing you, I have felt what that's like and I don't want that ever again." I continued, my thumbs brushing against her cheeks. "This will work. I'll make it work. You and me, we'll figure it out. I promise."

For a moment, she didn't move, didn't speak. Then, slowly, her eyes softened, and a faint smile touched her lips—sad, but real. She leaned forward slightly, her lips brushing against my hand. The gesture was so gentle, so intimate, it made my heart ache. "I have to go," she said softly, her voice breaking the moment.

"Lark—"

She stepped back, her hands falling away from mine. "I have to go," she repeated, her voice firmer this time. And then she turned and walked out of the room, leaving me standing there, my hands still tingling from the feel of her skin, my heart pounding in my chest.