Chapter 4: Whispers in the Walls

Three weeks into the renovation, Elara had established a careful routine designed to minimize her interactions with Liam Blackwood. She arrived at the house each morning after his crew had already started work, reviewed progress during his lunch break, and left detailed notes about any changes or concerns. It was professional, efficient, and absolutely miserable.

The house had become a war zone of plastic sheeting and sawdust, the familiar rooms transformed into something unrecognizable. Her mother's cheerful yellow kitchen was gutted down to the studs, and the hardwood floors she'd learned to walk on were hidden beneath layers of protective paper. The sound of hammers and power tools filled the air from dawn to dusk, drowning out the gentler sounds of home.

She told herself the ache in her chest was just nostalgia, nothing more.

Tonight, she'd stayed late to review the electrical plans one more time, spread across the makeshift table Liam had set up in the living room. The crew had left hours ago, and the house felt eerily quiet without the constant noise of construction. Outside, October wind rattled the windows, carrying the promise of the season's first real storm.

She was so absorbed in the blueprints that she didn't hear the front door open.

"Working late?"

Elara's head snapped up to find Liam standing in the doorway, still in his work clothes but with his tool belt slung over his shoulder. In the lamplight, he looked tired, older somehow, and she noticed new lines around his eyes that spoke of responsibilities she knew nothing about.

"I could say the same about you." She kept her voice carefully neutral, though her pulse had kicked up at his unexpected appearance. "Did you forget something?"

"Wanted to check the windows before the storm hits. Weather service is calling for heavy rain and wind." He moved into the room, and she was suddenly hyperaware of how alone they were, how the empty house seemed to amplify every sound.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if summoned by his words.

"I should go," she said, starting to gather the plans. But as she reached for the papers, a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the windows, followed immediately by a crack of thunder that shook the house.

The lights flickered once, twice, then died completely, plunging them into darkness.

"Shit," Liam muttered, and she heard him moving carefully across the room. "Stay still. I've got a flashlight in my truck."

Another flash of lightning lit the room briefly, and she caught a glimpse of him frozen halfway to the door. Then the darkness swallowed them again, thick and complete.

"The truck's probably locked," she said, surprised by how steady her voice sounded. "And you'll get soaked."

"There should be candles in the kitchen. Your mom always kept them in the drawer by the sink."

Of course he would know that. Of course he would remember details about her family's habits that she'd forgotten herself. The knowledge sat bitter on her tongue.

She heard him moving carefully through the debris-strewn room, heard a drawer slide open, the scratch of a match. Warm light bloomed as he lit a candle, then another, the flames casting dancing shadows on the plastic-covered walls.

"Better," he said, though the flickering light only made the gutted house look more like a ghost of itself.

Rain began pelting the windows in earnest now, driven sideways by wind that howled around the eaves. The storm had arrived with a vengeance, trapping them together in a bubble of candlelight and forced intimacy.

"Power might be out for a while," Liam said, settling into the chair across from her makeshift desk. "These October storms can be brutal."

Elara nodded, hyperaware of his presence in the small circle of light. Without the barrier of work noise and busy schedules, the air between them felt charged with all the things they weren't saying.

"Do you remember the storm when we were sixteen?" he asked suddenly, his voice softer than she'd heard it since her return.

She did remember. It had been a night much like this one—wild wind and driving rain that had knocked out power across half the county. She and Leo had been stuck at home with a bored Liam while their parents were out of town, and they'd ended up playing cards by candlelight, eating ice cream before it melted, telling ghost stories that made her shiver and move closer to the light.

Closer to him.

"You made Leo check all the windows twice because you were worried about flooding," she said despite herself.

"Your mom had just repainted the kitchen. I couldn't let water damage ruin her work." He was quiet for a moment, staring at the candle flame. "She spent weeks on that project, color-matching the trim, doing everything perfectly. It meant something to her."

Unlike what Elara was doing now. The implication hung in the air between them, unspoken but clear.

"That's different," she said, though the words felt hollow. "This is a complete renovation, not just a paint job."

"Is it? Or is it just easier to tear everything down than to figure out what's worth keeping?"

The question hit too close to home, and she felt her carefully maintained composure crack. "We're not talking about the house anymore, are we?"

"Maybe we never were."

Lightning flashed again, followed by thunder so close it seemed to shake the candles. In the brief illumination, she saw something raw and unguarded in his expression, something that made her chest tight with a feeling she didn't want to name.

"Why did you really come back tonight?" she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn't answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Because I've been watching you these past three weeks, seeing how hard you're working to avoid me, and I keep thinking about that night. About what I should have said, what I should have done differently."

"Liam—"

"My dad had another episode that night," he said, the words tumbling out as if he couldn't stop them once he'd started. "Worse than usual. Leo found me in the backyard, told me I needed to get home before someone called the cops again."

Elara's breath caught. She'd known Liam's father had problems with drinking, had seen the occasional bruise that Liam explained away with stories about construction accidents or bar fights. But she'd never understood the full scope of what he dealt with at home.

"I should have explained," he continued. "Should have told you what was happening instead of just... leaving. But I was nineteen and stupid and ashamed, and I thought—" He stopped, shaking his head. "I thought it would be easier for everyone if I just disappeared."

"Easier?" The word came out strangled. "Do you have any idea what that night did to me?"

"I know." His voice was rough with guilt. "God, Elara, I know. And I've regretted it every day since."

"Then why didn't you call? Write? Anything to explain?"

Another flash of lightning illuminated his face, and she saw pain there so raw it made her own chest ache.

"Because by the time I got home that night, my dad had trashed the house and put himself in the hospital. I spent the next three months dealing with lawyers and social workers and trying to keep him from drinking himself to death." He looked down at his hands, scarred and calloused from years of hard work. "And because Leo made me promise to stay away from you."

The words hit her like a physical blow. "What?"

"He said you deserved better than the mess my life had become. Said I'd only drag you down, ruin your chances at the future you'd worked so hard for." Liam's laugh was bitter, hollow. "He wasn't wrong."

Elara stared at him, pieces of a puzzle she'd never understood finally clicking into place. Leo, her protective older brother, who'd always looked out for her. Who'd known about her feelings for Liam and had apparently decided they were too dangerous to allow.

"He had no right," she whispered.

"He had every right. He was protecting his sister from a guy whose biggest accomplishment was not ending up in jail like his old man."

"That wasn't his choice to make."

"Maybe not. But it was mine to honor it."

The candle between them flickered, wax pooling on the table as the storm raged outside. In the dancing light, Liam looked younger somehow, more vulnerable, and she could see glimpses of the boy she'd fallen in love with all those years ago.

"You left town," she said, remembering. "Right after graduation."

"Joined a construction crew out of state. Figured it was better for everyone if I wasn't around to complicate things."

"And now you're back."

"Now I'm back." He met her eyes across the small table. "My dad died three years ago. Liver finally gave out. I came home to settle his affairs and ended up staying."

"I'm sorry." The words felt inadequate, but she meant them. Whatever their history, she wouldn't wish that kind of loss on anyone.

"Don't be. He was a mean drunk who made everyone around him miserable. The only thing I regret is that he never got sober enough to apologize for the damage he did."

Thunder crashed overhead, and the candles guttered in a sudden draft. For a moment, they sat in near darkness, the weight of his confession settling between them like a living thing.

"I should have told you the truth that night," he said finally. "Should have trusted you to understand, to make your own choices about what you could handle."

"Yes," she agreed, surprised by how calm her voice sounded. "You should have."

"I know that now. But I was nineteen and scared and convinced that loving you would only hurt you in the end."

Loving her. Past tense, she noted, though the admission still made her heart skip. How different might their lives have been if he'd stayed, if he'd trusted her enough to let her decide what she could handle?

But dwelling on what-ifs was pointless. They were different people now, shaped by a decade of separate experiences and choices that couldn't be undone.

"We can't change the past," she said, as much to herself as to him.

"No. We can't." He reached across the table, his fingers barely brushing hers before pulling back. "But maybe we can stop letting it define the present."

Outside, the storm was beginning to ease, the thunder growing more distant. Soon the power would come back on, and this fragile moment of honesty would be over. They'd return to their careful professional distance, armed with new knowledge that changed everything and nothing.

But for now, in the flickering candlelight of her childhood home, Elara allowed herself to see the man Liam had become—scarred by the past but not broken by it, carrying guilt that wasn't entirely his to bear.

It didn't erase the hurt of that long-ago night, didn't magically fix the trust he'd shattered. But it was a beginning, a crack in the wall she'd built around her heart.

And sometimes, she was learning, beginnings were more dangerous than endings.