Page 45 of Landing Liam

Chapter Nineteen

Liam

The fireplace flickers to life with a soft whoosh, its warm glow casting golden light across the room. The flames aren’t real, but the heat is steady, constant, a calming presence in the darkness. It feels fitting—almost too fitting—for the tension humming between Maggie and me.

“I need to call my mom,” I say, pulling my phone from my pocket, trying to ground myself. “She, uh, worries.”

Maggie looks up from where she’s perched on the edge of the couch, her face softened by the firelight. “That’s sweet,” she says, her tone light but genuine.

The way the warm hues dance over her features makes it hard to look away, so I turn to the window, focusing on the blur of snow outside as I dial. Mom answers on the first ring, her voice edged with concern.

“Liam? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I reassure her. “The snow’s bad, but I’m at the lodge. I never left. I’ve got a room for the night.”

“Do you have power?” she presses, her words coming quickly. “We lost ours about an hour ago.”

“It went out here, too, but we’ve got a gas fireplace, so we’re warm.”

There’s a moment of silence before Mom asks, “We?”

Heat creeps up the back of my neck, and I glance at Maggie. She’s pretending not to hear, her eyes fixed on the fire, but I can tell by the faint smirk on her lips that she’s listening.

“Just… someone I’m with,” I say vaguely.

Mom’s tone shifts instantly, all teasing and excitement. “Oh, is that THE girl?”

“I’ve gotta go,” I mutter quickly, my ears burning.

“Have fun,” she chirps, “but not too much fun. You still have a—”

I hang up before she can finish, my heart pounding a little harder than it should.

When I turn back, Maggie’s watching me, her lips curved into a knowing smile. “You’re close with your mom, huh?”

“Too close,” I grumble, rubbing the back of my neck. “She’s got this uncanny ability to make everything ten times more embarrassing than it needs to be.”

Maggie chuckles softly, the sound like a spark catching fire. “She sounds great.”

“She is,” I admit, my voice quiet as I study her. The firelight makes her look softer, warmer, almost untouchable, like she belongs to the glow, not the chaos of the storm outside. The steam from her shower left her hair softer, too, its strands looking even more touchable than before.

For a moment, neither of us says anything, the only sound the soft crackle of the flames. It feels like the fire is the only thing tethering us, mirroring the unspoken energy simmering between us—steady, building, inevitable.

I clear my throat, breaking the silence. “I guess it’s just you and me tonight.”

Maggie smirks, her lips curving up in a way that makes my pulse skip. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

“We need rations,” I declare, my tone mock-serious. “How do you feel about a stealthy theft operation?”

Her laugh is soft and melodic, the sound wrapping around me like the heat from the fire. “You want to steal something?”

“Technically,” I say with a grin, “it’s not stealing. Think of it as... creative resource management. Room service is down, so we’ve got to get resourceful.”

Maggie rises from the couch, her arms crossing over her chest as she eyes me playfully. “Sounds like fun. What’s the plan, mastermind?”

I tap my chin dramatically, pacing a few steps. “First, we scope out the layout. Kitchen’s probably locked, but I’m betting they didn’t secure the snack room. It’s all about timing and precision.”

“Timing and precision?” she echoes, raising an amused eyebrow. “We’re going to raid a snack room, not infiltrate a secret lair.”