Page 2 of Liam (Preston Brothers #4)

Addie

“You’ve been back less than forty-eight hours, and you already got me breaking and entering,” Wyatt says.

I roll my eyes, even though my back’s turned and he can’t see my response. “What kind of idiot uses cable ties to secure a gate?”

“An idiot who doesn’t expect anyone to want to break into this hellhole,” he mumbles.

The “hellhole” he speaks of used to be my home, but he doesn’t need to know that. I grab the switchblade from the side pocket of my backpack and make quick work of slicing through the plastic, freeing the gates from their binds.

“You still carry that rusty old thing with you?”

My brother gave me the knife, and I don’t leave home without it. Granted, it’s over ten years old, and this is the first time I’ve used it—but still… I’d feel naked without it.

I push one side of the gate open just enough to step through the gap.

“Are we really doing this?” Wyatt asks, and I can sense the uncertainty in his voice.

Half turned to him, I motion to his truck parked just a few feet away. “You can always leave.”

He won’t, though. Given the choice, he’d never leave my side.

That’s why he’s been my best friend since the first day of kindergarten.

I’ve only seen him a handful of times since we were fourteen.

We’re nineteen now. There’s no doubting I’ve changed in those years, but from the short time we’ve spent together, Wyatt is… still Wyatt.

“Or you can wait for me in your truck,” I add, giving him options.

I don’t want him doing anything he doesn’t want to do, but at the same time, how much trouble can we possibly get into?

Sure, it might look suspicious from the outside, only because it’s midnight, but the trailer is abandoned for a reason.

Wyatt steps through the threshold with a loud, reluctant sigh, and I smile up at him. “Two minutes,” I tell him. “I just want to check it out.”

“Whatever.”

The trailer is right at the rear of the lot, and so we have to walk across the weed-filled yard to get to it. I don’t know exactly when this place became “abandoned,” but honestly, it was a piece of shit five years ago, and nothing has changed.

I take the few steps up to the front door, and the moment I have my hand on the knob, Wyatt asks, “We’re going inside ?”

My shoulders drop. “Again, you can always leave.”

“I ain’t leaving ya, Addie, and you know that.” There’s sincerity in his words and a protectiveness I’m all too familiar with.

I face him fully and finally let down my guard. “I just want to see what it’s like now…”

“Now?” he asks. “As opposed to…?”

I heave out a breath. “As opposed to when I lived here.”

Wyatt seems confused for all of a millisecond before he puts the pieces together. “Oh.”

My gaze drops. “Yeah…” I don’t know why I kept it a secret from him. Of everyone in my life, Wyatt is, by far, the least judgmental person I know. Especially when it comes to our upbringings. But there were other factors, too. Factors I didn’t want to have to explain to anyone. Even him.

He steps around me now, using the bottom of his shirt as a barrier when he turns the knob. Not surprisingly, the door’s left unlocked.

I stifle my giggle. “Paranoid much?”

“I’m careful ,” he corrects, throwing me the same smile he did when we were kids.

If I were any other girl—a girl who didn’t look at the guy like a brother—that smile would do certain things to me. Things I haven’t felt in years.

He waves a hand toward the door, saying, “Ladies first.”

I use the light on my phone to peer into the trailer, make sure it’s safe, then step inside. A wave of memories flashes through me, and I’m quick to push them away. The place is exactly how I remember it. Exactly how my brother and I were forced to leave it.

“Are we looking for anything in particular?” Wyatt asks, using his own phone to look around. If he’s at all disheartened or even surprised by what he sees, he doesn’t show it.

The truth is, I came here for one thing and one thing only.

I make my way through the narrow hallway and into the only bedroom.

The butterfly stickers are faded and partially peeling off the walls now, but they’re still there.

So is the orange canopy hanging off the ceiling.

I don’t pay them much attention. Instead, I go straight for the drawer of the nightstand and yank it open. Then freeze.

“What is it?” Wyatt asks.

Air traps in my lungs, and through watery eyes, I stare at the empty drawer.

“Addie?”

“It’s gone,” I manage to say.

“What is?”

“The baseball…” I shut the drawer with more rage and disappointment than I’d expected and turn to him. “My brother gave me his first baseball, and I kept it—” My words die in the air when Wyatt wraps me in his arms.

“It’s okay,” he soothes. “I’m sure it’s here somewhere. We’ll find it.”

“I always kept it there,” I cry, and I hate that I do. I hate showing any form of weakness, even to him.

He releases me, saying, “Then it has to be here. No one would come in and take a random baseball, right?” He starts opening drawers, closet doors, and lifting things that haven’t been touched for years.

I wipe the tears off my cheeks. “It’s gone, Wyatt.”

“You don’t know that,” he rushes out, moving out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. He does the same there, looking through every drawer, every cabinet.

“Wyatt…”

“We’ll find it, Addie.”

Wyatt may not know much about my life since I left, and he may not know how or where I grew up, but he sure knows the truest part of me is my love for my brother, Roman.

“We’ll come back during the day,” he says, standing in front of me now. “We’ll turn the place upside down if we have to.”

Noises from the rickety stairs just outside have us both freezing, looking toward the sound. A beam of light shines through the open door, followed by the words, “Police! If anyone’s in here, make yourself known!”

I look up at Wyatt, his eyes wide with fear when they meet mine.

“Run!” he whispers, and so we do. But there’s nowhere to run besides through the lone police officer, who shines his flashlight directly at us.

Wyatt charges ahead, pushing past the cop, and makes it outside.

I attempt to do the same, but the cop catches my arm.

“Don’t run,” he says. “You’ll just make things worse. ”

I push forward, trying to get out of his hold, but he’s too damn strong.

Wyatt’s standing in the doorway, waiting for me, and I yell, “Go! I’ll be okay!

” But I don’t know if I will be. The last time I was in this situation, my life came crashing down.

There’s no fucking way I’m about to let that happen again.

I gather all my strength, push my free arm forward, then wind my elbow back and up, connecting with the cop’s face.

He’s quick to release me. “What the fuck?” Then he catches my backpack when I try to leave.

I free my arms from the straps and sprint out of the trailer and toward Wyatt’s truck, where he’s already waiting for me with the passenger door wide open.

I’ve barely closed the door when he speeds off, his tires screeching beneath us.

With my heart pounding in my chest, we drive through the familiar streets of our small town, constantly looking behind us until we feel we’re safe.

Finally, Wyatt pulls up to the curb in front of a random house on the “good” side of town and kills the engine.

Then he turns to me, releasing a breath he’d no doubt been holding. “Addie…”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I didn’t expect a fucking cop to show up.”

For a long moment, we sit in silence. Me, stewing on my guilt, and him… just staring at me. Ignoring the blood rushing through my veins, I murmur, “How the hell did he know we were there?”

“They probably have cameras.”

“They? Who is they ?”

“The Prestons,” he deadpans, as if this is something I should’ve known. Clearly, it wasn’t, otherwise I wouldn’t have messed with the place.

Scratch that.

I probably would’ve scorched it to the ground instead.

I was familiar with the Prestons, having spent my younger years watching them from afar.

Not that I had much of a choice. I was in the same class as the twins—Lincoln and Liam—so I’d see them every day.

Plus, the rear fence of my house backed up against their sprawling property, which meant that I spent many, many days watching them live the life I always wanted but knew I’d never have.

It’s strange… how prevalent an emotion like jealousy is that it can sink its teeth into you before you’re even fully aware of your surroundings.

I hated the Prestons for no other reason than I wanted to be them.

And… maybe I’m being dramatic.

I didn’t hate the Prestons… as a whole.

I just hated one of them.

“They own that land now,” Wyatt adds at my silence. “That’s why it’s all gated up.”

I drag my thoughts back to the present and roll my eyes. Of course they own it now. I should’ve predicted it, considering they own half the damn town. “What are they going to do with it?”

“No idea.” Then he chuckles, deep and raw. “I swear, Addie… the shit you put me through.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeat, resting my back against the seat as I heave out a defeated sigh. “That asshole cop took my backpack.”

“Fuck.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t snitch.”

“My truck was parked out front…”

Shit. “I’m sorry,” I say for the third time. “Do you know the cop?”

“Nah. It was too dark. Couldn’t get a look at his face.”

I settle in my seat, surrender to my fate. “I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.”

Wyatt just shakes his head, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Well, one thing’s for sure… Having you home this summer is going to be a blast.”