Liam’s place
10: 10.
Liam’s place Aria
The walk to Barric’s cabin is quieter than I expect.
Gravel crunches beneath my boots as we move through the dark, the cold night air brushing my cheeks.
The compound is mostly in shadow at this hour.
Only a few dim lights glow in distant windows, scattered across the land like small watchful eyes.
When Barric said cabins, I imagined something cramped and temporary—like the bunkhouses Liam and I used to see near construction sites when we were kids.
But this?
These aren’t thrown-together shelters.
Each house sits on its own patch of land, separated by wide stretches of darkness.
Even in the limited light, I can tell the property spreads far.
Pine trees line the edges of the clearing, tall and unmoving, their silhouettes cutting into the night sky.
Coming up to Barric’s place, I can just make out other homes farther off in the distance.
A handful of them, maybe more.
Hard to tell in the dark.
I have no idea how many people live here.
But there’s space.
Lots of it.
Too much, almost.
Part of me wonders what Liam’s place looks like.
My brother has always been particular about where he lives—orderly, controlled, carefully curated like everything else in his life.
For half my life, I imagined what his world looked like after he left.
This compound.
His people.
His rules.
But the curiosity dies the second it forms.
Because the truth is simple.
Liam doesn’t want me here.
The thought of stepping into his home—of standing in his space as some kind of tolerated obligation—makes my stomach twist.
Pity hospitality.
No thanks.
Barric opens his door and steps aside.
“After you.”
I hesitate for half a second before stepping inside.
And immediately stop.
Because whatever I expected…
It wasn’t this.
The cabin is warm, the air smelling faintly of wood smoke and something earthy—pine maybe.
Soft lamplight fills the space, casting golden shadows across dark wooden furniture.
It’s… beautiful.
Not fancy.
Not polished.
But intentional.
The couch is deep brown leather, worn but well cared for.
Natural woven rugs stretch across the floor, their thick fibers soft beneath my boots.
A large stone fireplace dominates one wall, though tonight only a faint glow of embers remains.
Everything looks sturdy.
Solid.
Built to last.
And everything is neat.
Not sterile—there’s personality here—but there’s almost no clutter.
Just a few carefully chosen pieces: a carved wooden bowl on a side table, a thick blanket folded over the couch, and on the main table…
Several small pieces of wood.
Carved.
I take a few slow steps inside, turning in a circle as I absorb it all.
“Wow.”
Barric shuts the door behind us.
The quiet click makes me realize something.
He’s watching me.
I look up—and there he is.
Standing a few feet away, arms crossed loosely over his chest, studying me with an unreadable expression.
Up close, his presence hits harder.
His bronze skin glows in the lamplight, and his sea green eyes are striking against the short buzz cut framing his face.
Heavy eyebrows, strong angular jaw.
His neck is thick with muscle, and at the base of it, I catch the edge of a tattoo disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.
Something about him feels… grounded.
Solid.
Dangerous in a quiet way.
A sudden hum of attraction zips through my body so fast it almost startles me.
Great.
Perfect timing, Aria.
I immediately look away.
“Uh… are those real?”
My finger points to the fur rug beneath my feet before I can stop myself.
Smooth recovery.
Barric’s deep voice answers.
“Yes.”
It’s almost a rumble.
“They’re from my own hunting trips.” There’s no bragging in his tone.
Just a fact. New chapters come out on g.com first.
My head snaps back toward him.
“Oh.
Is it for sport or meat?”
“Both.”
“Wow.”
I crouch slightly, brushing my fingers over the thick fur.
Something about that impresses me more than if he’d puffed up about it.
I stand and move toward the table, eyeing the small carved blocks of wood scattered across the surface.
“What’s the wood for?”
Barric leans back against the counter.
“You sure do have a lot of questions tonight.”
I glance at him over my shoulder.
“Damn,” I say.
“Is the clock running out of time?”
His brow lifts.
“Clock?”
“You know,” I continue casually, walking around the room and running my hand along the smooth surface of the coffee table.
“The one you all must have that allows exactly thirty seconds to answer any of my questions honestly.”
His mouth twitches.
Not quite a smile.
But close.
“It must be exhausting,” I add, “always being on the defensive.”
The words come out lighter than they feel.
Because I know exactly what that’s like.
There are maybe three people in the world I can relax around.
Everyone else gets the armor.
Barric watches me for a long moment.
Then he pushes away from the counter.
“How about this?” he says.
My attention sharpens.
“We get you changed.”
I glance down at my dirt-streaked clothes.
Then slowly raise my eyebrows.
“Aww,” I say sweetly.
“Are you going to help me?”
I gesture pointedly at my shirt.
His eyes flick down for half a second.
Then immediately back up.
“No,” he says flatly.
“I meant you’re going to change, and I’ll get the clothes.”
I laugh.
Okay, that reaction was worth it.
“Alright,” I say.
“And then what?”
He considers me for a moment.
“Then you get to ask me three questions.”
My interest spikes instantly.
“As long as,” he adds, “I get to ask you some in return.”
I don’t even hesitate.
“Deal.”
He nods once.
“Follow me.”
Barric leads me down a short hallway and opens a door to what’s clearly a guest bedroom.
It’s simple but comfortable—a large bed, thick blankets, a wooden dresser, and a small lamp glowing on the nightstand.
He sets a folded pile of clothes on the bed.
“Sweats and a shirt,” he says.
“They’ll be big, but they’ll work.”
I pick up the shirt.
It’s definitely his.
Warm.
I swallow unexpectedly.
“Thanks.”
“The show is right down the hall. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
He leaves, closing the door behind him.
The silence settles around me.
For a moment, I just stand there.
Then I head across the hall to take a quick shower.
There are extra towels in a cubby along the wall, and shower gel inside.
Quickly, I wash away the day, making peace with the fact that I now smell like Salt and Stone.
When I get out, I finger-comb my wet hair and get dressed.
The sweats hang low on my hips, and the shirt swallows me whole, the sleeves brushing past my fingers.
I roll them up and catch a faint scent of soap and pine that definitely belongs to him.
Why is that… comforting?
Ten minutes later, I head back downstairs.
The sound of movement draws me toward the kitchen.
Barric stands at the stove, barefoot, placing a kettle on the burner.
For a second, I just stop in the doorway.
Because somehow the change in clothes has changed him too.
The rugged, guarded man from earlier now looks… relaxed.
Comfortable.
His sweats hang low on his hips, a loose tank top revealing powerful shoulders and thick arms.
The lamplight highlights the strong lines of his back as he reaches for two mugs.
And the fact that he’s barefoot makes something about the scene feel strangely intimate.
Like I’ve walked into a private moment.
My throat tightens.
What the hell is happening to me tonight?
I step forward before I can think about it.
He glances back.
His gaze travels over me once.
Slow.
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly.
“Fits,” he says.
“Barely.”
The kettle begins to heat.
“You drink tea?” he asks.
“Depends,” I say.
“Is it poisoned?”
His low chuckle surprises me.
“No.”
“Then sure.”
He pours the hot water and hands me a mug.
Our fingers brush briefly.
A small spark shoots up my arm.
Okay.
Not imagining that.
I take a sip to hide my reaction.
“So,” I say.
“Questions.”
Barric leans against the counter across from me.
“Go ahead.”
I consider carefully.
Then ask the one that’s been circling my brain since I arrived.
“What is this place really? Is everyone here related or just part of the cool kids club?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
“This compound,” I continue, “ is a community. Before the town existed, our ancestors were in a village together. Most of the people here are family and friends living on loans passed down through generations.”
His words are meant to put me at ease.
A neat little story wrapped in a pretty bow.
Easy to believe.
If only I could.
My eyes narrow slightly.
“Except for Liam. Is he the only one not part of this…village, who lives here?”
Barric studies me.
“There are a few. But people rarely leave their homes, so there isn’t much new blood around here,” he finally says.
“Lucky Liam.”
“Very.” He takes a sip of his tea.
I sigh.
His eyes glint.
“My turn.”
“Alright, shoot.
What do you have for me?”
“Why do you give Liam a hard time?” The question lands heavier than I expected.
I stare into my tea.
All the ways I could answer this question flash in my mind.
Rage, fear, abandonment, loneliness… all facets of a much bigger series of events.
I could give Barric my thorns, but what’s the point?
I’m leaving tomorrow anyway.
So instead, I choose vulnerability.
“…Because Liam was the only thing keeping our family together, and when he left, he took everything with him. The calm, the laughter, the stability. Mom and I were two negative charges waiting to implode.”
Barric’s silence isn’t filled with pity; it’s filled with understanding.
A knowing that the words need space to exist between us before whatever comes next.
“Do you hate him?” he presses.
I exhale slowly.
“No, I don’t hate him. He’s my brother. That’s what makes him want me to be hurt so much. I left because my mom wanted me gone, and now he does too.” I play with the handle of my mug.
“I just need to accept it and maybe leave here with a better understanding of what happened to my mom. Something about it all, it just doesn’t feel right.”
I look up from the warm liquid, and his eyes flash.
A Starfall of gold.
I blink.
I must be more tired than I thought.
“Theo shouldn’t have said that to you, that you and your brother don’t fit,” he says out of nowhere.
“How do you know about that?”
He shrugs a muscled shoulder and sips.
“ Word gets around.”
“Ah.
Well, thank you for that, but you don’t need to apologize for anyone.”
“I widdle.” He says plainly.
For a moment ai don’t put together his words.
When they finally do process, I look over at the pile of wood, and a small smile draws my lips into a smile.
“Where are your finished pieces?” I venture.
“I keep them in my shed.”
We talked about his art.
About the subjects he prefers and how he got started.
At some point, I realize something unsettling.
I’m… comfortable.
With him.
The kettle empties.
The tea goes cold.
And eventually Barric glances at the clock on the wall.
“It’s late.”
I nod.
He walks me back to the guest room.
At the door, he pauses.
“Goodnight, Aria.”
“Night.”
He leaves.
I crawl into the bed, pulling the heavy blankets up to my chin.
But sleep doesn’t come right away.
My mind replays the night.
The compound.
The cabins are spread across miles of land.
The way everyone here seems connected by something I’m sure has nothing to do with family.
The careful answers.
The guarded looks.
He was avoiding answering.
And lying here in Barric’s quiet cabin, wearing his shirt and surrounded by a world I don’t understand…
I realize one thing with absolute certainty.
I’m going to find out what it is.