Page 56 of The Endless Want

“You’ve been off,” he says finally, still looking straight forward. “Unfocused. Distracted. That’s not like you.”

A quiet breath leaves me, fogging the cold air of the corridor for a second. “I’m fine,” I answer, though the flatness in my voice betrays me. “Just tired.”

“Tired doesn’t reroute a meeting so you don’t have to sit across from someone,” he replies. “Tired doesn’t hand a report to Ronan at four in the afternoon so it lands on my brother’s desk without you in the room.”

Heat rushes up my neck, and I pull my coat tighter around myself. “I’m not avoiding him,” I say, even though that’s exactly what I’m doing.

He cuts me a knowing look. “Ailish.”

I stop walking. So does he. The stillness feels enormous for a moment, like the air itself waits to see what I’ll say.

“Alright,” I breathe. “Yes. I’m avoiding him. I don’t know what else to do, Liam. Everything between us is… messy. And I can’t tell if it’s getting better or if I’m just getting used to the ache of it.”

His expression softens, which is rare for him—especially these days when he feels the weight of leadership like a hand closing around his throat. He leans a shoulder against the wall and crosses his arms, studying me with that older-brother gaze he rarely lets himself show.

“You’re overwhelmed,” he says gently. “And I should’ve asked sooner.”

The kindness nearly breaks me in half. I swallow, hard. “I hate that you’ve been looking at me like…” I trail off, struggling to find the right words. “Like you’re waiting for me to make a mistake.”

Liam’s face shifts, surprise flickering across it. “Is that what you think? That I don’t trust you?”

“You’ve been distant,” I say softly. “Colder. I… I assumed it meant something.”

He pushes off the wall and steps closer, his voice lowering. “Look at me.”

I do.

“I trust you,” he says quietly. “Completely.” His eyes soften further, a rare show of emotion. “But leaders don’t get to look trusting, Ailish. Not to enemies. Not even to allies. I have to appear firm, cautious, in control. If I don’t, every other family watching us will think they can shove us around.”

The tight knot in my chest loosens, just a little. “So it wasn’t me.”

“It was never you.” He gives me a small, warm smile—the kind that reached his eyes before the Russians made all of us harder. “If anything, I’ve been relying on you more than ever. You’re my anchor in this.”

My throat burns suddenly, and I have to look away before he notices the shine in my eyes. “Thank you,” I whisper. “Really.”

He nods, satisfied. “Now. Tell me what’s going on with Declan.”

My stomach drops. I knew this was coming, but it still feels like someone turned a key inside my ribs. “It’s complicated,” I say, which is the understatement of the century.

“It always is with him,” Liam replies, lips quirking. “But I need to make sure you’re safe. That whatever’s happening isn’t distracting you from keeping your head clear. You’re too important right now.”

The words scrape at something raw inside me. Important. If he knew the truth—if he knew I was pregnant—would that still be the word he used? Or would it become something else? Liability. Weak point. Fool.

The confession rises up my throat like a bubble breaking the surface. Liam, I’m pregnant.

My mouth actually opens.

But the words don’t come.

Because I see it right there—his stress, his fear, the weight he’s carrying for all of us. If I hand him one more worry tonight, he might break under it. And if Declan finds out from anyone except me… No. I can’t do it like this.

“Everything between us just feels… delicate,” I say instead, choosing half-truths over the full catastrophe. “There’s too much history. Too much hurt.”

“I know,” Liam replies, voice gentle. “But you don’t have to sort it all out tonight. Or alone.”

Another piece of me softens toward him. “Thank you. Really.”

He nods once, as though satisfied he’s done what he can. “Go home. Get some sleep.”