Page 32 of Liam (Preston Brothers #4)

My head tilts, confusion swirling my mind. Surely, he’s exaggerating.

He nudges my foot with his. “Tell me about your foster parents?”

“This again?” I laugh out.

He points to his lap. “In case you haven’t noticed, I still have the same problem. And besides, you basically know everything about my life. I want to know about you.”

I shrug. “I don’t really know what to say…”

“Your foster dad coaches your team?”

“Right.” I lick my lips, attempt to regain some composure. “And he coached me , personally, throughout high school and taught me the ins and outs, the behind the scenes, which helped me get the team manager position.”

His smile showcases his perfect teeth. “Ay, look at you.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not, like, paid or anything. It’s just something to add to my resume.”

“Don’t do that,” he says, shaking his head.

“Do what?”

“Diminish your accomplishments like that.”

“Okay, bossy ,” I murmur.

“What does your foster mom do?”

“Dayna has a few online stores selling handcrafted things, but she does it mostly for fun, not for income. She needs to be available at the drop of a hat in case we get emergency cases.”

“Emergency cases?”

“Kids. Usually they’re very temporary—a few days, just until the authorities find next of kin or whatever.”

“So that’s her primary job?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“It must be very fulfilling.”

I smile at his response. Griffin and Dayna are simple people, and not in a bad way. They don’t chase high-paying jobs, don’t care about the latest anything. They just want to leave this world better than they found it, and this is their way of doing exactly that.

“What’s your team’s name?” he asks, picking up his phone from the side table.

“No, don’t look!” I try to snatch his phone from him, but he’s too fast.

Now, he’s looking at me as if I’m crazy. Maybe I am. “Why not?”

Why not? Because he seems so impressed by the whole college softball thing, and I like that he is, and I don’t want to burst his bubble.

But here he is, holding the needle, about to pop his dream.

Or mine. Whatever. I sigh. “Because we have, like, forty followers, and it’s embarrassing, Mr. Gazillion fans. ”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Tell me.”

Reluctantly, I give him the team’s social handle, and I lean in close, watch him open Instagram, and find it immediately.

He taps on the first image and slowly scrolls down, down, down.

It’s literally just shots of the team, usually from a distance.

A couple of classic headshots of our key players, me included. Bats. Balls. Gloves. The usual.

Liam doesn’t even hide his grimace when he peers up at me. “Wow… this is…”

My nose scrunches. “Bad?”

“I was going to say horrible , but sure.”

I push on his shoulder and try to steal his phone, but he’s too fast, grabbing me around the waist, and, for a moment, we wrestle—me at full strength and him laughing at my miserable attempt.

We fall to the floor with a thud, and I laugh when he groans, lying flat on his back beneath me.

“So…” I say, straddling his lap and kissing him once.

“I forgot to mention that part of my team manager position is doing the laundry, cleaning the equipment… running our social media…”

“This is you ?” His bright blue eyes are so wide it’s almost comical. He brings his phone to his face, inspects the content again. “Oh, no, Addie…”

“I don’t know what to do! I don’t, like, study trends or whatever. Anyway…” I finally snatch his phone from him and slide it along the floor, far enough away so he can’t reach it. “Enough about me. Tell me about you.”

“There’s nothing to tell you that you don’t already know. I’m boring as hell.”

My eyes go as wide as his were only seconds ago. “How can you say that?”

His shoulders lift with his shrug, and he settles his hands on my thighs. “Because it’s true.”

“There’s a whole subsection of the Internet who thinks otherwise,” I rush out. “In fact, I’m pretty sure there are at least a million girls who would kill to be in my shoes.” I push down on him just to get my message across. Then stop abruptly. “Wait.” I gasp. “Do you have stalkers?”

“Not anymore,” he fucking deadpans. As if it’s completely normal that he once did. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“Do I need to start carrying?”

“What?” He chuckles, his eyes so bright and alive I wish I could take them from his head and keep them in my pocket.

Not literally . Obviously. But I adore this version of Liam—this carefree, relaxed version of him I’m only just getting to know.

“You’re going to go around shooting random girls who might approach you? ”

“Nah.” I wave off the idea. “Guns are too messy. Too dangerous.” I lift my hands up between us. Form fists. “I’ll take them with my bare hands. I’m a boxer, you know?”

“Relax, Mike Tyson,” he says through a chuckle. “You took one lesson less than twenty-four hours ago.”

I punch the air an inch from my face. “Yeah, so my hands are lethal now, bitches. ”

Liam all-out laughs, his body shaking with the force.

“You think it’s funny?” I ask, running my hands over the dip, dip, dip of his abs, lower and lower until he’s squirming beneath me. “See? These hands are weapons of mass destruction.”

“Come here,” he orders, and I comply with his wishes. Our lips don’t play this time; they merge, become one, just like our breaths. His hand coasts my flesh, from my neck down to my back. The lower his touch, the more intense the kiss becomes.

I get dizzy from the contact.

High from his touch.

His hand slides over the curve of my ass, squeezes once as he pushes into me. And then he?—

He laughs .

Right into my mouth.

I pull away, too confused to be angry. “What’s funny?”

He slaps my butt. “Big booty ass.”

“Liam!”

“I’m sorry,” he says through a chuckle. “My sister has no fucking filter, but she ain’t wrong.” Another butt slap before he attempts to kiss me again, but his body’s too overtaken by his silent laughter.

“Stop,” I tell him, but I’m laughing too.

Our kisses turn messy, broken up between moments of pure, unexpected bliss.

And maybe—maybe that’s how Liam and I got here. And maybe that’s what we are…

Two messy, broken people, finding joy in the unexpected.

In each other.

“Mama!” a little voice calls from behind me. “Uncle Twinny’s sexing a girl on the floor!”

Liam

“I’m so sorry!” Mia shrieks over her shoulder, turning Benny around by his shoulders.

As soon as Benny spoke up, Addie rolled off me with so much force she spun over twice before finally stopping. I glance at her quickly, suppressing my laugh, before getting up and going after Mia. I call out her name from the front door just as she and Benny reach her car. “What’s up?”

“I’m so sorry!” she repeats.

I make my way toward her, asking, “What’s going on?”

She turns to me, only to stare at my chest when she shakes her head, says, “It’s nothing. I’m sorry we interrupted. You… carry on with?—”

“It’s fine,” I assure. “What’s wrong? You’re all panicky.”

“I’m not.” She won’t meet my eyes. “I’m just pissed that I ruined?—”

I grasp her shoulders, forcing her to stop. Then wait until her eyes are on mine before smiling, asking again, “What’s going on?”

Mia glances at Benny, then back at me, and I know what she’s hinting without having to say a word.

“Addie,” I call over my shoulder, and like the magic she is, Addie appears on the porch steps.

I settle my hand on Benny’s shoulder and lead him toward the studio.

“This is my friend, Addie,” I tell Benny, then face Addie. “This is my nephew, Benny.”

Addie smiles. “Hi, Benny.”

I tell Benny, “Addie has these cool fidget clickers she’d love to show you.”

Addie nods, taking the hint. “I’ll be right back,” she says, disappearing and reappearing within seconds. She sits on the porch steps, urging Benny to do the same, and as soon as I know he’s occupied, I turn back to Mia and make my way over.

“She’s pretty,” is the first thing Mia says.

“I’m aware,” I say, trying to force the heat away from my cheeks.

Clearly, it doesn’t work, because Mia pokes my stomach and teases, “Aww. Are you blushing?”

I shake my head, heave out a sigh. Sisters, man.

“Were you guys really sssss-” She can’t even say the word.

I crack a smile. “Were we really what ?”

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

I chuckle. “No, we weren’t sexing .”

“Good. I mean, not good that you weren’t. I want you to—” She cuts herself off with a head shake. “Anyway. You know how Benny has that game tomorrow?”

I nod. “What about it?”

“He’s so anxious about playing.”

“What?” My eyes narrow as I look over at my nephew. We’ve spoken about the game a few times, and he’s never once mentioned it to me. I should’ve picked up on it. Not just as his uncle, but as his coach .

Mia continues, “He wants me to practice hitting with him, and I don’t know what the fudge I’m doing, and Leo’s at work, and I went by the house but no one was there, and I thought maybe?—”

“I got it,” I cut in.

“Are you sure, though, because?—”

“I’ll grab some equipment from?—”

“It’s in the trunk.”

Since Mia and I spend so much time together and I tell her almost everything, she doesn’t really need an introduction to Addie, but I give her one anyway.

Afterward, I face Benny. He’s already chosen his favorite of Addie’s fidget clickers, and Addie works at removing it from the carabiner to give to him.

I wait until it’s in his grasp and he’s said thank you to make my way over to them.

“I hear you want some help with your swing?” I ask, and Benny nods.

“Well, it’s your lucky day. Addie here is a semi-pro softball player. ”

“Really?” Mia asks.

Addie shakes her head. “College. Super small. Not a big deal at?—”

“Knock it off,” I cut in.

“You’re so bossy,” she snaps. Then grins. “I like it.”

“Mama likes Daddy when he’s bossy, too,” Benny informs.

I raise my eyebrows at Mia, tease her the way she did me. “Is that so?”