Page 19 of Liam (Preston Brothers #4)

I always told her I was fine. That I was happy and taken care of, which I was as soon as Roman took charge. But I suspect she knew… deep down in her heart, that something was different about me. Still, she cared enough to keep asking.

I should tell her I remember that… that I cherish those moments with her and that I’ve mentioned her in my journal when I write about people who’ve impacted my life.

Beyond the somewhat broken memories and the ugliness that forms them, Miss Harden is the reason I believe there is good in the world, and there always will be.

I don’t hug her like I want to.

I don’t tell her all the thoughts and feelings brought on by her existence. Instead, I mouth two simple words I’ve wanted to say to her for over a decade. “Thank you.”

After a lot of back and forth between the Preston brothers (Lachlan forcing Liam to go back into town twice —once to get ice, then again to buy a new cooler for the ice since their current one is missing), we finally make it back to their lake, where Liam and I help lug all the groceries for Lachlan and his friends out of the car and onto the dock.

I wait until Liam and I are alone again, walking back to his minivan, to say, “We don’t have to go to the diner… if you don’t want to.”

His steps falter, but he continues, turning slightly to face me. Even from the few feet distancing us as we walk, I can feel his frustration. Though it’s hard not to. He didn’t even try to hide it while Lachlan was ordering him around. “You don’t want to go anymore?”

“No, I want to. It’s just… you seem… I don’t know.” I shake my head, stare down at the ground. “Never mind.”

We walk the rest of the way back to the minivan in silence and, like the first time we did this, he opens the passenger door for me and waits for me to get settled before closing it.

Then he rounds the hood, gets behind the wheel, and starts the engine.

And then he just sits there, staring ahead.

Finally, he says, “I don’t like surprises.

” He shakes his head at that, as if those words aren’t appropriate.

“I’m a creature of habit, I guess,” he corrects.

“Maybe. I just…” he trails off, staring into the distance again.

I attempt to finish his thought. “Maybe you just don’t like it when things are out of your control.”

“Yeah.” He glances at me quickly before looking away. “Something like that.”

We finally make it to the diner and have barely sat down at a booth by the window when a server comes to take our order.

Barb, according to her name tag, is in her late forties, dyed black hair, too much eyeliner, with a scratchy voice—likely from calling out orders all day.

“What can I get y’all?” She doesn’t stop chewing her gum, not even to ask the question.

Liam knows exactly what he wants, and I take a moment to decide.

Not because I don’t know what to get, but because I’m delaying the inevitable—sitting opposite a boy who’s clearly uncomfortable.

My nerves from earlier stemmed from excitement.

Now? It’s more like worry. There’s been a clear switch in Liam since he first asked me to join him, and maybe it’s exactly what he said it is—his plans suddenly being thrown off by his brother.

Or maybe it’s something else. Maybe it’s me.

He doesn’t look at me, too focused on everything else going on around us.

High school kids, boisterous and excited for summer break, have taken most of the seats.

There are a few moms with their young children, and a four top filled with men, all dressed in suits.

Liam’s hand sits on the table, knuckles quietly hitting the tabletop.

Guarantee, if I look under the table, I’d witness his knee bouncing uncontrollably.

I dig into my backpack and pull out my carabiner, detach the baseball fidget clicker, and slowly reach across the table.

Wordlessly, I flip his anxious hand over, use my fingertips to unravel his fist, and watch his face as I place the toy in there.

The widening of his eyes is immediate. But his smile…

his smile is the opposite. It’s slow, deliberate, and does something to my insides that has me sitting taller. Breathing easier.

“Why do you have these?” he asks, squeezing the baseball between his thumb and middle finger repeatedly.

“Dayna, my foster mom,” I start. “She’s a constant worrier, and that worry sometimes—often—manifests in physical form. She’s a nail biter. So Griffin?—”

“Your foster dad?” he guesses.

I nod. “He bought her one as a joke, and now she’s obsessed with them.

I think she enjoys collecting them just as much as using them.

Anyway, she found this subscription thing, and every month, she gets six different ones in the mail.

All a surprise. She lets me choose one, and I change them out of my master set.

It’s kind of our thing .” It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud, but we get a kick out of going through them all once a month.

Liam stares at his hand as he clicks away, but I can tell he’s listening, because he asks, “Does she still bite her nails?”

I laugh once. Not because of the question, but because I’ve never even thought about it until now. “No, actually. She doesn’t.”

Liam nods, glances up at me, then right back down. “So…”

“So…?”

“Roman packs your lunch every day?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s kind of sweet, though.”

“Speaking of sweet. Your niece? Adorable.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty cute.” His chest rises with his huge inhale, as if he’s preparing for his next words. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

He keeps his head ducked, but his eyes lift, meet mine. Hold. “About seeing Miss Harden just now.”

Oh. “Do you want me to talk about it?”

“Only if you want to.”

I shake my head. “I don’t.” The truth is, I haven’t thought about it since we left the store, but I can imagine how Liam must’ve seen it, as if it’s some life-changing moment for me. Maybe it is, and maybe I won’t realize until later.

We both sit back when Barb returns with our food—a BLT sandwich and vanilla shake for me, two burgers, two fries, two drinks for him. Liam looks confused as Barb places the food in front of us. “Oh, I didn’t order two,” he tells her, his brow furrowed in the most adorable way.

“Yeah, you did,” she answers, chewing, chewing, chewing away.

He looks to me for confirmation, and I scrunch my nose, nod once. He did order two, but I assumed he meant to.

“Would you mind?” he asks Barb, pushing one of each item toward her.

“To go?”

“Yes, please.”

We wait until she leaves with all his extras before starting our food.

Well, he does. I’m too busy watching him, fascinated by his every move.

He removes the top bun, removes the pickle, then scrapes off the onions before stopping himself and putting the burger together again.

He glares at his fries, his eyebrows drawn.

On goes the salt. Then the ketchup. Then he sighs, grabs his drink, looks up at me, as if waiting for something.

He lowers the drink again, then rubs the back of his neck, his look of confusion causing my lips to tick up.

“So weird,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me, so I don’t know what he means, and I don’t ask.

Instead, I take a page from his book—a leap of faith. He asked me to join him for a reason, and if that reason was to get to know me, then I should offer something more than fidget clickers. I pick up my sandwich, saying, “You know, we’re kind of the same in a way…”

He was halfway through biting into his burger, so he chews and swallows before speaking. “How so?”

I lower my sandwich back on the tray, more interested in him than I am with the food.

“When I first moved in with my foster parents, they were so nice and welcoming. And at first, I didn’t really understand why, but I knew almost immediately that I didn’t want to disappoint them.

I didn’t want to give them a reason to question how, after treating me so well, I could let them down.

So, I set out to be this… Golden Child, I guess.

And for the most part, I succeed, but man, when I don’t…

when something changes, that’s out of my control… ”

Liam nods, understanding.

“Anyway, Griffin—he calls it my pursuit of perfection.”

“What’s the pursuit of perfection?” A carbon copy of the boy sitting opposite me interrupts. Lincoln’s standing beside the table, a girl by his side, and he doesn’t wait for my response before sliding into the booth next to me. I scoot over, giving him room.

“Addie!” the girl exclaims, forcing Liam to move so she can take the spot next to him. “Lincoln told me you were back!”

“You guys know each other?” Lincoln asks, taking a fry from Liam’s tray.

“We all went to school together, dipshit,” the girl says, and it only takes a few seconds for recognition to hit. Julie Andrews and I were casual friends, as was almost everyone in a town as small as ours. “But we mainly knew each other through our brothers’ baseball, right?”

I nod, agreeing. Julie’s brother is the sole reason Roman didn’t get as many minutes as he’d like. To be fair, her brother was a hell of a lot better than mine. Hence why he’s a pro now, and Roman isn’t. “How is Jake?” I ask. “Does he like St. Louis?”

“He loves it,” she replies. “And Roman? Swear, he was half the reason I even watched Jake play.”

My brother spent most of the time on the bench. “What?”

Julie rolls her eyes. “Your brother’s hot, Addie. Like, really?—”

“I’m right here,” Lincoln chimes in, shaking his head.

Julie giggles just as Barb arrives, and while they place their orders, I peer over at Liam.

He’d been playing with the fidget clicker since I gave it to him, but he isn’t now.

In fact, it’s the most relaxed I’ve seen him, possibly ever.

He’s still holding the toy, his grasp loose around it as he casually sits back, arm resting on the table.

I wait for Barb to leave before turning to Lincoln. “Did Liam tell you we’d be here?”

Julie answers for him “He was just driving past, then looked around like his spidey senses were kicking in, and went, ‘Liam’s at the diner!’”

“You felt his presence?” I ask, eyes wide.

“It’s so weird how he does it, Addie. One time?—”

“Wait,” Liam interrupts. “You were driving?”

Lincoln glances up at the ceiling as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Whose car?”

Lincoln sighs.

“Motherfucker,” Liam murmurs, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out his wallet, checking for something, then glares up at his twin. “Give it back.”

Lincoln sighs louder, grabbing his own wallet and pulling out a license. He hands it to Liam, or back to Liam, who slides the card where it belongs.

“I don’t know why you don’t just get your license,” Liam says.

“When I can just use yours?” Lincoln shrugs. “Pass.”

“And quit driving my truck.”

“Why?” Lincoln scoffs. “No one else does.” He pauses a beat. “Hey! Who am I? I need to buy a new truck because everyone else has a truck, but then I won’t use it because I prefer riding around in a twenty-year old pile of metal. ”

Liam chuckles, crossing his arms. “I like the van. It’s nostalgic.”

“Nostalgic? How?”

“Quit deflecting.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck off.”

“Get fucked.”

“Stop stealing my license.”

For the next few minutes, the twins go back and forth about all the what ifs of Lincoln driving around using Liam’s ID.

Somehow, this leads to a heated argument about identical twins’ DNA and Lincoln’s plans to murder someone, just to pin it on Liam.

They only stop bickering when Barb returns with more food.

Julie ordered a salad.

Lincoln ordered two burgers, two fries, and two drinks. “Oh, I didn’t?—”

“Yeah, you did,” Barb tells him. “Just like the other one.” The “other one,” meaning Liam.

“Oh.” Lincoln looks around for confirmation, which he gets, then back up to Barb. “Would you mind?”

“To go?”

“Yes, please.”

Barb leaves with another order to pack up.

“What are we doing after this?” Linc asks the table. “Jet skis?”

Liam shakes his head. “Lachy has people there.”

“So kick ’em out.”

Julie rolls her eyes. “You’re so mean.”

“I have work to do, anyway,” Liam tells him.

“Oh, my God!” Julie drops her fork and picks up her phone. “The comments on your latest video…”

Liam lifts his arms and presses his hands to his ears, shaking his head.

I stifle my giggle at his reaction. “You don’t read the comments?”

“No,” Lincoln answers for him. “He’ll lose it—mentally spiral out of control and never want to upload another video again.”

I watch Liam. “Why?”

He just shakes his head more vigorously.

Julie reads aloud. “Liam girlies, rise up!”

“Stop it,” Liam whisper-yells, his cheeks turning a shade darker. He takes Julie’s phone from her and hides it on the other side of him.

“Aww. You’re adorable,” she coos, then narrows her eyes at Lincoln. “Why can’t you be more like Liam?”

Lincoln scoffs. “We’re the same!”

“No, you’re not,” Julie and I say at the same time.

“Oh, great,” Lincoln whines. “Now you’re twinning.”