Page 4 of Liam (Preston Brothers #4)

Addie

My life is a series of reckless decisions, and agreeing to come here for the summer might be my most reckless one of all. That, and the fact I failed to ask questions when my brother told me he worked retail and his boss had a job for me.

Maybe I interpreted it wrong, but what he could’ve said is that he works construction, currently building a retail space, and that his boss is Tom Preston.

Preston , as in the owners of the property I’d broken into last night.

Great.

Now I’m here, sitting in the passenger’s seat of Roman’s truck in front of a small cabin on the sprawling Preston property, waiting for—“Who exactly are we waiting for?” I ask, turning to him.

“Logan.”

“Logan… who?”

“Preston.”

Of course. If my memory serves me correctly, all the Preston kids have L names. It’s as ridiculous as it is confusing, but who am I to judge?

“He’s my boss,” Roman adds.

“I thought Tom Preston was your boss.”

“Tom is my boss’s boss,” he explains. “Lucas, the oldest son, does residential, and Logan runs the retail side. I work with him.”

I really only know Lincoln and Liam through school and baseball, but I think the oldest one—the only girl—was in the same grade as my brother, which means that whoever this Logan guy is, he’s likely younger than Roman.

I wonder how he feels about it. I’ll be sure to add it to my list of Roman-related questions I’ll no doubt never ask.

Roman turns at the sound of a car coming up the long gravel driveway and says, “Here he is.”

I step out of the truck when he does, then wait awkwardly for Logan to do the same.

He’s tall, around the same height as my brother, and maybe if I paid more attention to Roman, I’d realize that the navy work shirt he’s wearing has the Preston Construction logo on it, because Logan’s wearing the same one.

“Mini Roman!” Logan practically yells, his smile reaching his deep-blue eyes. He’s undeniably attractive, and I bet he knows it, too. “Your brother’s told me a lot about you.”

“He has?” I ask, looking up at Roman, now standing beside me.

“Yep.” Logan looks between us before making his way toward the cabin. Over his shoulder, he says, “I’m glad you decided to come for the summer. I hope you weren’t as nervous about it as your brother was.”

Nervous?

Roman clears his throat—a silent message Logan apparently receives, because he continues as if nothing was said.

“Anyway. The job isn’t strenuous. Like, at all.

But it’s repetitive and boring as hell.” He opens the door and waits for Roman and me to step through.

The first thing I notice is the living room to the left, though it’s not much of a living room, so much as a…

studio? There’s a single three-seater couch, with an LED sign on the wall behind it that reads Preston Twins, and in front of the couch is a bunch of cameras and microphone equipment.

In the corner of the room is a computer set up with three monitors.

Logan must sense my confusion because he asks, “You know the twins? Lincoln and Liam? Roman said you were the same age.”

I nod, my mind running circles.

“They’re big on social media now. YouTube and whatever. You’ve probably seen their videos.”

I haven’t, and I sure as hell wouldn’t want to.

“Anyway, they turned this into their studio when my sister moved out. You’ll be in the back room most of the time, so hopefully they won’t bother you too much.

” My pulse kicks up at the mere thought of it.

Because whatever the pay is for this job, it sure as hell won’t be worth seeing Liam Preston every day.

Liam

Loud voices stir me from my sleep, and it takes a moment to gain my bearings. I’d worked late last night and fallen asleep in the studio, which seems to be my norm now.

I like it here.

I like my own space to delve into my own thoughts, my own creativity.

My own peace and quiet . Which is something I’m not getting now because the voices are getting louder, and the only people I could think would be here besides Linc are my sister and her husband.

It’s obviously not them, or I wouldn’t be in the state of panic I currently find myself in.

I sit up, allowing the lightweight covers to fall to my waist as I strain to listen.

I immediately recognize one voice as my brother, Logan, and then a girl speaks, but I can’t quite make out what she says.

Another male voice—one I recognize but can’t instantly place—says something, and he and Logan laugh as they make their way past my unofficial room and open the door to the only other bedroom.

There’s nothing in there besides a dozen filing cabinets filled with paperwork from old Preston Construction jobs.

They were all kept in the basement until the cabin became free, and Logan moved them here.

What anyone could want with them now, I don’t know.

But I’m sure as hell going to find out.

I dress quickly and run a hand through my hair, attempting to look somewhat presentable before stepping out.

At the sound of the door opening, three heads swivel, all sets of eyes now on mine, but only one pair captures my attention.

Even if her single braid wasn’t cascading over her shoulder, her eyes give her away.

“Liam?” she says, squinting, head tilted slightly.

Air traps deep in my lungs, and I keep it there as my gaze refuses to leave hers.

The first time I came face-to-face with Adelaide Baker, I thought she was an angel. Like a legitimate, physical angel sent from heaven just for me. To be fair, it was the first day of kindergarten, and I was five, but still…

She hasn’t changed much in the years since I’ve seen her—same golden-brown hair, contrasted by the darkest eyes to match her wicked soul. Her eyes should’ve been a warning from the beginning, but like I said… I was five .

“I didn’t see your car out front,” Logan says, snapping me back to reality. I tear my gaze away from the devil incarnate and focus on my brother.

After clearing the immediate anger, fear, and confusion from my chest, I answer, “Golf cart.” And it’s all I say before turning on my heels and walking out, slamming the front door behind me.

The summer air bites at my flesh as I bypass Logan’s truck. And then Roman’s. I didn’t even register that he was the other person in the house, and sure, I could’ve put two and two together, but the moment I saw Adelaide, everything went to shit.

Roman works construction for my dad; therefore, he’s friends with my older brothers. I’ve been around Roman plenty in the past few years, and he’s a great guy. Which, I guess, makes it easy to push aside the fact that his little sister is my actual nightmare.

He never spoke about her in the years I’ve known him, so I just assumed she wasn’t in his life anymore. When she left town five years ago, her name died along with everyone else’s memories of her.

Everyone but mine.

Addie

Dayna

So… How are you? How is Roman? Tell me everything. PS: The boys miss you. We all do. But… I may be missing you the most. I love you. Come back! No DON’T! I mean it. DO NOT COME BACK. Anyway… how are you?

I’ve been staring at the text from my foster mom for a good few minutes now, not knowing how to respond. Not even to her most basic question.

How am I?

Besides the looming fear of potentially being charged with burglary and assault on a police officer after last night’s chaos, I actually woke up this morning feeling the closest to “good” since I arrived.

But then Liam. I figured I’d probably run into him at some point, but I thought he’d be somewhere in the distance, far enough away that I could ignore his existence.

Never in my wildest nightmares did I expect to have to live or breathe in his presence.

I should quit.

And believe me, I’ve contemplated it in the hours I’ve sat in this makeshift office, scanning and digitalizing old Preston Construction paperwork.

But… I didn’t want to disappoint Roman, and I definitely didn’t want to relive the reason I wanted to quit before I’d even started.

Besides, Logan had already spent the better part of an hour walking me through the job—explaining what I’d be doing, how much I’d be paid (way too much), and even handing me a key so I could come and go as I liked.

If I wanted an out, I should’ve done it already.

I feel stuck. I type out the reply, then delete it completely and move on to the next question.

How is Roman?

I don’t know how he is, because I don’t know who he is. Next.

Tell me everything.

I don’t really feel like typing out a novel, so… next.

The boys miss you. We all do. But… I may be missing you the most. I love you.

I crack the faintest of smiles.

When my foster parents found out they couldn’t have biological children, they made it their life’s mission to open their home to others.

When I came to them at fourteen, I was the oldest they’d ever taken in.

It was supposed to be temporary, just until the cops or CPS found my parents.

They never did. And I… never left. Right now, they have three brothers staying with them, aged between two and six, while their mother serves a short prison stint for corporate fraud.

The boys are great. A little on the rambunctious side, as Dayna says.

To which her husband, Griffin, replies, “As boys that age should be.”

To say that I struck gold with my foster placement would be an understatement.

I know, deep in my heart, that I am loved by them because they remind me of it every day.

And I adore them back. I may even love them, too.

But, I’ve never been able to say the words.

Not written. Not verbal. Not to them, and not to anyone else besides Roman.

Call it superstition, or even delusion, but I see it as fact —everyone I’ve ever loved has left me, whether by choice or force. I don’t want that same fate with them.