Chapter 58 Childhood
Liam Carter
Ava’s childhood home was nothing like I expected. From how she talked about growing up, I figured it would be all stiff and formal, where laughter felt out of place and every cushion had a designated angle. But walking through it, seeing the framed family photos lining the walls, the warm golden lighting that made everything feel softer, the subtle touches of her mother’s personality in the decor, I could see why she had so many mixed feelings each time she had to come back home.
There were little things everywhere. A crooked picture frame that had clearly been adjusted a hundred times. A faded rug in the hallway that had seen years of footsteps. It didn’t feel cold. It felt lived in.
She led me through the hallway, pointing out things as we passed, from her mom’s favorite reading space to the cabinet where she and her sister used to sneak snacks to the exact spot in the living room where she broke her arm trying to show off on a skateboard when she was ten.
“I did land it,” she muttered defensively when I raised a brow.
“With a cast for six weeks,” I replied.
“Details.”
She stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway, her hand hovering on the knob for half a second before she pushed it open.
"My room," she said.
I stepped inside, taking in everything slowly. It was surprisingly simple, no excessive decorations, no overly girly touches. The bed was neatly made, a few books were stacked on the nightstand, and a guitar rested against the wall like it had been played recently. The curtains were half drawn, moonlight slipping through and casting silver lines across the floor.
But what caught my eye was the bulletin board above her desk. There were a few old concert tickets, photos with her family, snapshots of moments frozen in time.
"Didn’t peg you for the sentimental type," I murmured, tilting my head toward the picture of her and her sister.
"I can be if I want to. Plus, it’s a nice picture." She scoffed, walking over and plucking the photo off the board. "
"Of course it is," I smirked, making her roll her eyes.
But she didn’t put it back up. Instead, she turned to face me, leaning against her desk, the photo still in her hand. The teasing edge she usually wore like armor had softened just a little.
"Okay, you’ve officially had the grand tour. You wanna head back down?"
I didn’t move.
There was something about being in here, in her space, that had my chest tightening in a way I didn’t expect. This wasn’t just any room. It was where she’d grown up. Where she’d cried over stupid high school drama. Where she’d probably dreamed about escaping this town, about building something bigger for herself.
And now I was standing in it.
And she was standing in front of me.
"Not really." I smiled at her
Her breath hitched, just a little, but just enough. The sound was quiet, almost lost in the stillness of the room, but I caught it. I always caught it.
I stepped closer, closing the space between us. The air shifted, thickened. The playful energy from downstairs faded into something slower. Heavier.
I reached up, brushing my fingers over her jaw, tilting her chin up so her eyes stayed locked with mine.
"You think we can go back downstairs like nothing’s happening between us?"
Her pulse fluttered at her throat. I could see it. Feel it.
She swallowed hard, but the way her lips parted and her body leaned just slightly into mine told me everything.
"Liam…" she tried to say, but I didn’t let her finish. I kissed her.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t frantic. It was deliberate. Slow at first, like I wanted her to feel every second of it.
She made a soft sound against my mouth, her hands gripping my shirt as I backed her up against the desk. The wood pressed lightly against her thighs as my fingers slid into her hair, angling her head just right as I deepened the kiss. She tasted faintly like wine and something sweet, and it went straight to my head.
Her hands moved to my chest, clutching the fabric before sliding underneath, her nails dragging lightly against my skin. The contact was gentle, but it sent heat sparking through me, sharp and immediate.
"You’re playing dirty, Snowflakes." I groaned into her mouth.
"Am I?" she whispered, her breath warm against my lips.
"Mm-hmm."
I kissed her again, slower this time, letting my mouth trail along her jaw and down to her neck. She tilted her head without hesitation, trusting, open. I left a mark that I knew she’d pretend to hate later.
"Liam," she breathed, her fingers tangling in my hair.
"Repeat it," I smirked against her skin, my hands gripping her waist, lifting her onto the desk as she let out a soft gasp, her legs parting just enough for me to step between them.
Her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me closer, and suddenly the world outside this room didn’t exist. The dinner. The photo. Her dad. None of it mattered.
My hands slid up her thighs, slow and deliberate, my fingers brushing the hem of her dress, teasing the edge of it without pushing further. I wanted to take my time. Wanted to memorize the way she reacted to every touch. Wanted…
A sudden knock at the door made us both freeze.
"Ava?" Her mother’s voice called from the hallway.
Shit.
Reality slammed back into place.
Ava’s eyes widened. She shoved at my chest, jumped off the desk, and arranged her dress, smoothing it down like she could erase the last five minutes with a few quick swipes. I stepped back, running a hand through my hair, forcing my breathing to steady.
"Y-yeah, Mom?" she called, her voice slightly breathless.
"Just checking if you and Liam want dessert before I put it away," her mom said.
She shot me a glare like this was somehow my fault. I bit back a grin.
"No, we’re good! Be down in a sec!" she answered quickly.
We stayed frozen, listening as her mom’s footsteps faded down the hall. The silence afterward was almost louder than the knock had been.
As soon as they were gone, she let out a breath, pressing her hands to her face.
"Oh my God."
"You’re cute when you panic." I laughed, stepping closer, my hands landing on her hips.
"Shut up. This is not funny." She said, smacking my chest.
"It’s a little funny." I leaned in, brushing my lips against her ear, letting my voice drop just enough to remind her how close we’d just been.
She shivered, then pulled away before I could pull her back in.
"We’re going downstairs. Right now. Before you make me do something stupid." She groaned, heading toward the door.
"Too late, baby," I smirked, watching her march toward it.
She shot me a glare over her shoulder, but I caught the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
And standing there in her childhood bedroom, heart still racing, I realized something that hit harder than any check on the ice.
This wasn’t just fun anymore.
And that scared me more than her dad ever could.