Chapter 32: The Meeting (Liam POV)
Nate’s text glowed on my phone: “Park by your apartment. 10 minutes.” My heart slammed against my ribs, my hands sweaty as I stared at it. He needed me, now, after everything. I’d hurt him, left him to the feds, said those lies on TV. But that “Now” hit me hard, like a lifeline I didn’t deserve. I typed back fast, “Where?” and waited, my breath short. When he answered, I was already moving.
I grabbed my jacket from the chair, my apartment dark and quiet. The park wasn’t far—just a few blocks—but every second felt heavy, like I was running out of time. My shoes hit the floor loud, my hands shaking as I locked the door. Nate had been my best friend, my everything, until I messed it up. His face on the news, pale and broken, haunted me every night. I’d blocked him, walked away, but I couldn’t shake him. And now he was reaching out.
The street outside was cold, the wind sharp against my face. I pulled my hood up, keeping my head down, my legs moving fast. The park was a quiet spot, no lights, no people after dark. Perfect for hiding, but it made my stomach twist. What if it wasn’t safe? What if Harper knew? Graham’s threats, “Testify, or he’s done,” still rang in my ears. I’d caved, said Nate was guilty, thinking it’d save him from worse. It was a stupid, cowardly choice, and it broke us.
I crossed the road, my breath fogging in the air. The park loomed ahead, shadows stretching long under the trees. My hands clenched in my pockets, my chest tight. What did he want? Why now? I’d seen him last when they took him—arrested, eyes locked on mine, hurt and lost. I’d stood there, frozen, letting it happen. Guilt ate me alive every day since—his voice in my head, “You abandoned me,” from that fight in the garage. He was right.
I stepped into the park, the swings creaking in the wind. My eyes scanned the dark, and there, by the bench, a figure. Nate. My heart jumped, my legs slowing. He stood still, hood up, hands in his pockets, the streetlamp catching half his face. He looked tired, thinner, like the weight of it all had crushed him. I wanted to run to him, tell him I was sorry, but my feet stuck, guilt holding me back.
He saw me, his head lifting. Our eyes met, and for a second, it was like before—late nights coding, his laugh, that one kiss in the break room I couldn’t forget. My throat tightened, my hands shaky. Then he moved, stepping toward me, and I forced my legs to close the gap. Every step felt heavy, like I was walking to judgment.
“Liam,” he said, his voice low, rough, like it hurt to say my name. He stopped a few feet away, his eyes hard but wet too.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice cracking.
He swallowed, his jaw tight. “I’ve got something,” he said, his hands moving in his pockets. “Proof—about Harper, the breach.”
My breath caught, my eyes wide. “Proof? What do you mean?”
“A video,” he said, his voice shaky but firm. “Her in the server room, stealing files, deleting logs. She set me up, Liam. It’s real.”
I stared, my head spinning. A video—Harper caught? My chest tightened, my hands clenching. “Where’d you get it?” I asked, my voice low.
“Someone sent it,” he said, glancing around like he was scared. “No name, just a flash drive. But it’s her, time-stamped, the night they said I did it.”
My legs felt weak, my mind racing. Harper—Graham’s daughter, the one pulling strings. I’d trusted her, believed Graham when he said Nate was guilty. That folder—my debts, fake charges—had scared me into line. But a video? If it was true, I’d been wrong, dead wrong.
“You’re sure?” I asked, my voice barely there.
“Dead sure,” he said, his eyes locked on mine. “I saw it—she’s the one. Not me.”
I ran a hand through my hair, my stomach twisting. Guilt hit me harder, sharp and cold. “Nate, I—” I stopped, my throat closing up. “I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know?” he snapped, his voice rising, his hands out of his pockets now, fists tight. “You stood there on TV, Liam. Said I did it—alone. You abandoned me.”
I flinched, my chest aching. “I had to,” I said, my voice breaking. “Graham—he forced me. Said if I didn’t, you’d get jail—years. I thought I was protecting you.”
“Protecting me?” he said, stepping closer, his eyes blazing. “You left me to rot—blocked me, walked away. I was in cuffs, Liam, and you just watched.”
“I know,” I said, my hands up, my voice shaking. “I’m sorry, I was scared. Graham had stuff on me—debts, lies. He said you’d get a deal if I talked. I thought it was the only way.”
“The only way?” he said, his voice cracking, his hands dropping. “You should’ve told me—trusted me. We could’ve fought it together.”
“I should’ve,” I said, my eyes burning. “I messed up, Nate. I was weak. I didn’t know how to fix it.”
He stared at me, his breath fast, his face torn. “You picked them,” he said, his voice low, cutting. “Harper, Graham—over me.”
“No,” I said, my voice sharp, stepping closer. “I picked you—or tried to. I thought I was saving you. I was wrong. I hate myself for it.”
He didn’t move, his eyes searching mine. I saw the hurt, the doubt, the pieces I’d broken.
“You hurt me,” he said, his voice raw. “Bad, Liam. I needed you.”
“I know,” I said, my hands shaking, my chest tight. “I’m here now. I’ll do anything. Please, Nate, give me a chance.”
He looked away, his jaw tight, his hands clenching again. I held my breath, my heart pounding. I’d lost him once—I couldn’t lose him again. He was everything, my friend, my heart, the one I’d let down. I stepped closer, my voice dropping.
“I’ll fight with you,” I said. “Whatever it takes.”
He turned back, his eyes wet, his face soft for a second, then hard again. “You mean that?” he asked, his voice rough.
“Every word,” I said, my hands out, open. “I swear.”
He stared, long and quiet, the wind whistling through the trees. My chest hurt, waiting, scared he’d walk away. Then he stepped closer, so close I could feel his breath, his voice raw and low.
“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” he said, his eyes locked on mine.
I swallowed, my throat tight, my hands shaking. “Then let me earn it back,” I whispered, my voice barely there, my heart on the line.