Chapter 14

CLAIRE: Sorry this is so last minute, but I think I'm not going to make it tonight. Just not quite feeling up to it.

MARTY: Don't worry about it at all! Everything ok?

DARLA: Yeah, do you need anything from us?

MONICA: Anything we can do?

CLAIRE: You're all sweet, but no. Thank you! I'm just going to have a quiet day in.

Claire tossed her phone down on the bed with a huff of annoyance. The smiley face she'd put at the end of her text message was so inauthentic that it probably counted as an out and out lie. She leaned back against her pillows with a groan, not sure what caused the sound more, her aches or her frustration.

It was definitely the frustration that caused tears to prick at the corners of her eyes, though…

Lupus was, Claire knew all too well, a marathon, not a sprint. A marathon over terrain that was full of hills and valleys, no less. No matter how well she took care of herself, no matter how cautious she was about her health, there would always be days where she felt like her body was the enemy.

Today was one of those days.

It was the worst possible time to feel that way too, she thought sourly as she consciously tried to relax all the muscles in her shoulders. Not only had she been scheduled to have a movie night with her friends, which she'd just cancelled, but she also was supposed to get things done at the store today.

"Drat," she said to her ceiling. It wasn't just that she was supposed to get things done at the store today… she was supposed to be meeting Liam at the store. "Double drat."

She hadn't seen him since their coffee and walk date had turned suddenly strange and Liam had quickly disappeared. It didn't take a genius to figure out that it had been the fire on the television in Dr. Maxwell's office that had set him off. Claire was pretty good at math, but even someone without her numerical knowhow could have figured out that firefighter on leave plus massive fire on TV equaled the kind of distress that could trigger someone into fight or flight mode.

Liam had obviously been fleeing.

Even if she understood the source, however, and didn't blame him for it the least bit, she still didn't know where that left things between them…

Boo, she was going to have to be professional. And that meant a phone call.

She didn't want to make a phone call.

She allowed herself a few moments to feel sour about lupus, every doctor that had failed to cure lupus, whoever decided that phone calls were a more adult means of communication than texting, and Alexander Graham Bell. Just to cover her bases.

When she felt that she had sufficiently groused at the world, she tried to summon a cheerful attitude just long enough to call Liam to cancel for the day.

He picked up on the second ring.

"Claire?"

Was she kidding herself if she thought his voice sounded hopeful?

"Liam, hey." She aimed for briskly efficient, since she didn't think she was going to get herself all the way to chipper, not with the black cloud of her poor mood hanging over her. "I was just calling to tell you I'm actually not going to be able to make it over to the store today. Sorry to change things up on you on such short notice."

She was so stinkin' sick and tired of canceling on people on short notice, she thought sourly, crossing her eyes and sticking out her nose in a childish expression. She deserved five seconds of childishness, she felt.

"That's fine on my end, of course," he responded immediately. "But is everything okay?"

She bit back a sigh. She knew she wouldn't be able to get away with not telling Liam about her diagnosis for much longer. For one, it wasn't at all a secret; if people in Whale Harbor knew they were friends, someone might say something without realizing Liam didn't know. For another, acting all mysterious about it was going to make him far more concerned than if she just disclosed that she had a chronic illness that was well-managed, aside from the odd flare-up.

She didn't have the energy to get into it all just then, however.

"Yeah, it's fine," she said. It wasn't technically a lie. She would be totally fine as soon as she got some rest. "Just a little worn down. Can I get in touch in a few days to reschedule our work?"

"Of course," he said. "Do you need anything?"

She was so tired of being the person who always needed something. When was it her turn to help somebody else?

Stupid, stupid, stupid lupus.

"Nope, I'm all good," she said, trying to sound airy instead of annoyed. "Thanks for asking. I'll call you back soon, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, although he still sounded concerned.

Man oh man, but she was sick of that too.

She quickly bid him a polite farewell and then hung up, glad to have nothing holding her back from sinking fully into her mood. Knowing that she was luckier than a lot of people with her diagnosis didn't make her feel any better either. Instead, she just felt mad at herself too, for being ungrateful and grouchy when she knew perfectly well that things could be much worse.

Normally, her racing mind would have kept her from falling asleep, but her body knew better in times like these. She needed the rest, and when she finished making all the preparations she needed to make, such as drinking a large glass of water and taking all her required medications, she felt her eyelids begin to droop. Even so, her stubbornness made her refuse to go back to bed. That would make her feel too much like an invalid from some old timey novel. Instead, she snuggled in on her couch, pulling a blanket up to her ears before dropping off to sleep for a few hours.

When she woke up, it was to the gentle sound of someone rapping on her front door. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. She had that feeling that she got when she napped too long, which often happened during a flare-up, like she'd been asleep for years instead of hours. She ran a quick hand through her hair, trying to shake off the disorientation as she walked to open the door.

She expected to see one of her friends coming over to check on her. It could have been her father, but he had a key and probably would have let himself in.

It was Liam.

For a second, Claire blinked at him, momentarily certain that she hadn't woken up at all and was having a dream. Then she shook herself internally as she realized she was wearing comfy clothes and slippers. If she was having a dream about her crush on Liam, surely she'd be wearing something better than that!

She tried to fight down her embarrassment that Liam was seeing her in an old pair of oversized sweatpants that said WHALE HARBOR HIGH SCHOOL HONOR ROLL on the leg.

Liam, for his part, opened his mouth in surprise and dismay. "Oh no!" he exclaimed. "Did I wake you up?"

The sky outside was painted in the dreamy purples and oranges that announced that the sun was already well on its way to setting.

"You did," she admitted, "but it's good that you did. If I slept for any longer, I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight and then my whole schedule would have been thrown off."

He didn't look like he totally believed her. "I can get out of your hair," he said hesitatingly. Claire tried not to imagine what her hair probably looked like. "I just thought you sounded kind of down when we spoke on the phone earlier, so I wanted to bring you over some dinner."

He lifted his left hand, and only then did she notice that he was carrying an enormous takeout bag from the Clown Fish Eatery. Her heart melted. If she'd had any hopes of not falling deep into her crush on him, those hopes were dead now. She didn't mind one bit.

"That's enough food to feed an army," she said with a smile. She was probably blushing, she knew. As a redhead, she was an avid blusher. "You'd better come inside and share it with me."

"Well, I didn't know what you liked," he hedged. "And I don't want to be in the way if you're not feeling well."

The way he was looking curiously over her shoulder, however, suggested that he did want to come in. It was a nice thought.

"I'm all good," she confirmed. "And not contagious or anything. Come on, come in, we're letting all the warmth out." She waved him forward until she could close the door behind him. "Maybe just let me put on something a little more—"

"No," he interrupted, then he too, looked faintly abashed. "I mean, you look cute."

She bit her lip to stop herself from grinning too broadly.

"Okay," she agreed. "But only because I'm really proud that I was on the Whale Harbor High School Honor Roll."

"As you should be," he said with a chuckle.

He left his shoes on her shoe rack in the entryway and the pair entered her living room. Liam glanced over at the couch. With its rumpled blankets and pillow that still had a dent from her head, it was obvious enough where she'd been before she opened the door.

"You know," he said innocently. "I've had a long day. Do you think we could eat on the couch?"

She was touched by his sweetness. It was one thing to have someone recognize her needs, but another to have them try to meet those needs while trying to protect her dignity. Claire wasn't burdened by excess pride, if she did say so herself, but it was still nice to have someone look out for her that way.

"That sounds great," she agreed warmly. "Let me go grab some forks and plates. Do you want something to drink?"

"Water's good for me," he said, beginning to lay out the many takeout containers on the coffee table. "But get spoons too. I got soup, in case that was something you like when you're not feeling well."

She turned into the kitchen before he could see her smile, which probably revealed the depth of her affection for him.

When she'd gathered all the necessary utensils, she took a seat on the couch next to Liam.

"So," she said, picking up on his earlier comment. "What kept you so busy today after I rudely canceled on you?"

"It wasn't rude," he said, gently admonishing. "And, uh. Well, I might have gone over to the store anyway?" He said this last bit like a question, almost as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

"Liam Hiller! Tell me you didn't do my half of the work for me!"

"Okay," he said, spooning some pasta salad onto his plate. "I won't tell you that."

"Don't be cute," she said accusingly. Her smile was broad, though. "We were supposed to split that work!"

He shrugged. "I had some free time, and it seemed like you could use a helping hand. Nobody likes to worry about work backing up when they're sick. It wasn't a big deal."

"It was a big deal," she corrected, then remembered her manners. "And thank you. That does take some stress off my plate."

His smile had a touch of pride to it, like he was pleased to have managed to do this for her.

She looked out at the spread before her, considering it. She knew the Clown Fish Eatery's menu well enough to know what dishes she could eat, given her restricted diet, and which ones she should avoid. Liam had gotten almost exclusively things she could enjoy, with the exception of the slice of cheesecake over on his side of the table. No matter how tempting, she should probably avoid that much dairy.

He followed her gaze. "Oh, that's a non-dairy one Charity recommended," he said. "Since you said you don't do milk."

Her mouth dropped open. He'd remembered?

It had been a hard day, both with her mood and her health. But things were starting to really look up, she decided, because she was pretty sure that if she had a crush on Liam… that he had one on her too.

She fell quiet for a moment, then asked, hesitant, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." Liam's answer was immediate, although he put down his plate and gave her his full attention, face serious, as if he knew where this was going.

"The other day, when we saw that news story about the house fire…" She trailed off, wanting to give him space to change the subject if he needed it.

But he just nodded. "And I ran away like I was the one on fire?"

She chuckled. "That wasn't how I was going to phrase it, but yeah. I guess I was just wondering why it upset you so much, considering that you would have seen a lot of fires in your job."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know, it's funny that you say it like that, since I actually think it's because I've seen so many fires that I reacted like that."

She had never thought of it that way, but the idea made sense. Still, she just nodded, giving him space to talk as much as he wished.

"But more to the point," he continued. "There was something that happened that led to me taking a break from the department."

"You don't have to—" she said gently, but he cut her off, his smile softening the interruption.

"I know I don't have to, but I think I'd like to," he said. "I think it's time."

She nodded again and then, on impulse, reached out and grabbed his hand in hers. He held on.

"I don't want to sound like I'm bragging," he began, "but I was a really good firefighter. I worked hard and got promoted to Lieutenant younger than is normal. And that meant having some supervisory responsibilities. So, a captain would run the firehouse, and then lieutenants would help direct smaller groups during a call."

He looked over to her, checking that this made sense. She nodded and gave his hand a squeeze of encouragement.

"I was good at that too. Cool head even when things got tough. And then there was this one call…"

He let out a heavy breath, and Claire waited.

"I guess the thing I'm most grateful for is that it was me in the house, not another firefighter I was directing. Basically, there was this huge house fire. Multiple generations living there. The grandmother, the mom and dad, and the kids."

His sentences were choppy, and his eyes were distant, like he was lost in remembering. Claire sat still and quiet, listening but never removing her hand from his.

"We got the parents and the kids out right away. But then we realized the grandmother hadn't gotten out yet. She was trying to save something, a wedding album maybe? People aren't supposed to try to rescue stuff in this kind of situation, but they frequently do. I can't blame them too much either. It's scary, to see your entire world being literally burned up in front of you."

Her heart ached. He was so empathetic, even when recounting what was clearly a traumatic experience for him.

"I went in. The grandmother was upstairs. I got to her and she was coughing so bad that I knew I had to get her out really fast." He shook his head, a flicker of disgust crossing his face. "And I should have known the stairs were unsound. I'd noticed it when I was going up. I should have gone to the window and gotten out that way. My team could have had a ladder up against that window in seconds. But for some reason, I didn't. I just… I don't know, auto-piloted, I guess, which is the stupidest and most dangerous thing you can do in a fire. We were almost to the bottom of the stairs when they collapsed."

Claire couldn't help it; she sucked in a gasp. Fortunately, this seemed to help bring Liam back to the present. His eyes grew more focused and this time, he gave her hand the reassuring squeeze.

"We both still made it out," he assured her. "But the woman… Mrs. Martinez, that was her name. She broke her leg bad. And she's older, so they think she'll probably end up with a cane for the rest of her life." He was silent for a long moment before shaking his head. "I went to visit her in the hospital and she said she didn't blame me. But I blame me."

He took another deep, steadying breath. "It got in my head. The next call I went on, I was second-guessing everything. Luckily, I recognized it right away and got someone else to take up my command post so I didn't risk getting anyone else hurt. I thought it would go away, that my head would clear, that I'd be able to make the kinds of decisions I need to make again, but…"

"But it didn't," she said gently when his pause stretched longer and longer.

"It didn't," he confirmed. "It got worse, actually. Eventually, I froze up in a training exercise and I knew that I needed to take a step back if I could ever hope of salvaging my career." He spread out the hand that wasn't clutched in hers. "And here I am."

The wry smile he gave at the end of this speech invited her to turn away from the seriousness, to make light of the situation, but Claire could sense, somehow, that this wasn't what he needed. She took a moment to consider her words carefully.

"I can't say that I'm not glad you're here for my own sake," she began. "But I am sorry that happened to you. And before you say anything," she cautioned, seeing Liam's mouth open, "it is something that happened to you. Maybe you could have made another decision. But would you criticize another firefighter who, after years of successfully fighting fires, managed to get a woman out of a blazing house fire alive, even if she did get injured?"

"No," he admitted, although she could see this confession was not easy for him to make.

"No," she affirmed. "And the way you speak about your career, it's obvious that you have passion for it. But even something you feel passionate about can wear you down. And it's okay to take a break. It's okay to need a break. And I, for one, am impressed by you for recognizing that when other people might have tried to ‘tough it out' and gotten themselves or someone else hurt."

"Thank you," he said quietly. The words were simple, but she could tell that he really meant them.

Then she took a deep breath. He had trusted her with his pain. Now it was time to trust him with hers.

"I of all people have an appreciation for taking a step back and resting, and I know how hard that can be." He looked up at her, eyebrow quirked in interest. "Remember how I told you I was feeling worn down today?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Well, it wasn't just because I've been working a lot recently. It's because I have lupus."

His eyes widened. "That sounds serious."

"It is serious, but it's also under control," she told him. "I was diagnosed in high school, which is actually really lucky. Some people suffer a lot longer than I did before getting a diagnosis. But I have great doctors now, and I keep things in balance as well as I can with medications, diet, and self-care. Even so, I still have flare-ups sometimes, and today the exhaustion got the better of me."

Liam was looking at her seriously, but she was relieved to note that there was no pity in his expression.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asked, his brow furrowed as he took in all this information.

"I am," she said. "Not yet back to a hundred percent, but resting today was good for me…" She trailed off, giving him a meaningful look.

He laughed. "Subtle," he said dryly.

She laughed too, the levity a relief after the intensity of both their confessions.

"Don't worry," she reassured him. "I'm not as enlightened about it as all that either. I spent this morning in a total snit because I wanted to do things today that I couldn't get done."

"You did sound a little bit annoyed on the phone," he said teasingly.

She reached out and gave his shoulder a playful shrug. "I did not," she protested, even though she knew she absolutely had. "I am an amazing actress. I keep my feelings under lock and key."

"Oh yeah," he said, feigning seriousness. "You totally never blush at all. That must be some other pretty redhead I'm thinking of."

And even though she knew it was just proving his point, she couldn't help but blush over him calling her pretty.

He looked really pleased with himself as her face burned.

"Anyway," she said pointedly, drawing them back into their conversation. "What I'm saying is that I get how hard it can be to get your head on straight after a setback. But beating yourself up about it is just going to make it take longer—which is advice I should probably follow myself," she admitted with a rueful eye roll.

"You're right," he said. "I know you're right. And hearing that advice helps. So thank you for being so understanding."

"Of course," she said. "And thank you, as well. You'd be surprised how many people find out I have a chronic illness and suddenly treat me like I'm made of glass or like I'll somehow infect them with my totally not contagious autoimmune disorder if they get too close."

Liam looked shocked, which Claire found flattering. "Okay, the second one sounds like people just being dopes, but you? Made of glass? You're opening your own business and doing a chunk of the renovations yourself!" He considered. "Actually, I guess that means the first one is just people being dopes too."

She laughed, but she knew she was blushing again too.

"Claire, I—" He broke off, clearing his throat. "I think you're amazing." Well, now her face was flaming. "And I know my future in Whale Harbor isn't guaranteed, so absolutely no hard feelings if that is too big a problem for you to overcome, but…" He looked her square in the eyes and smiled. It made him so handsome that her breath caught. "Would you be willing to go out with me? On a real date, I mean? After you're feeling better, of course."

Her pulse was racing. "I was worried you wouldn't want to go out with me after you knew about my illness," she confessed.

He gave his head a hard shake, like he wanted to forcefully dispel that idea. "Are you kidding? I thought you were strong and brave before, starting a new business venture, but now I think you're even more so. Honestly, the more I get to know about you, the more I like you. And I'd like to get to know you even more, if that's okay with you."

If she got any happier, she thought her heart might burst.

"In that case, Liam Hiller, I would be thrilled to go out on a real date with you."