Page 46 of Liam (Preston Brothers #4)

Addie

The memories I have are fragmented—like shattered pieces of glass spread out over sand, some more hidden than others.

I remember the heaviness of the rain as it pelted down on the windshield, and the sound it made when it collided with the roof of the car. I remember the headlights—the only thing visible until bolts of lightning broke through the atmosphere, lit up the world, but only for a second…

I remember the screams, remember feeling the ache in my throat when I realized they were coming from me.

I remember the blood rushing to my head, and the seat belt cutting into my flesh as it held me in place.

I remember standing outside of the car, but I don’t remember how I got there. Pierson was in front of me, and I remember him asking if I was okay, over and over, and there was this pounding in my head and this ringing in my ears and then?—

I remember a child crying…

It was coming from below us, and I remember looking down at my feet and realizing I wasn’t standing on the ground. I was standing on the underside of another car.

I remember the sirens.

And then?—

I remember the darkness.

Waves upon waves of it.

And the next time I saw light, it was from a hospital bed.

Liam’s still staring at the picture on my phone long after I’ve finished telling him about the accident—or, at least, what I remember of it.

After a moment, he looks up, his gaze as distant as the memories I’ve tried to capture since that night.

“Why do I feel like I’ve seen this before?

” he murmurs, focusing on my phone again.

It’s an image of two cars on the side of a cliff while multiple first responders work at removing the bodies.

One car is upside down, having flipped down an embankment first, only stopping because a tree got in the way.

The other is upright, partially on top of it, the back half crushed completely.

I realized later that opening my door allowed me to step directly onto the underside of the other car.

The picture of the wreck is the only one I’ve managed to find in the almost three years since it happened. It was used in an article written about the accident, headlined: Three Deceased. Three Injured. Teen Charged with Felony Death by Vehicle.

I’m not surprised he’s seen it before. “It happened near here,” I tell him.

“Jesus, Addie,” he whispers, shaking his head as his eyes land on mine. “How the fuck are you not dead right now?”

“I’ve asked the same question multiple times.” In the weeks and months after the accident, I often wished I was. “I should be.”

“But you’re not ,” Liam says, handing my phone back. He exhales a harsh breath before adding, “I’m not one to fall at the feet of some higher power, or even one who believes solely in fate, but… you being here—that’s got to make you feel a certain way.”

“Yeah.” I wipe at the never-ending tears that have kept me company for days now. “It makes me feel guilty .”

“Because you survived and others didn’t?”

“No,” I cry, shaking my head. “Because there were three people in our car that night.” I swallow the knot of anguish that has snowballed for years.

“There was this guy walking on the side of the road—too damn close to traffic. It was pouring out, and Pierson—he said we should pull over and help. So we did. He was a complete stranger to us, but he must’ve been desperate, because he got in the car, and a few minutes later…

he was dead.” A sob bursts out of me, and Liam’s quick to throw his arm around my shoulders, hold me to him.

I don’t deserve this. “Liam…” I pull back.

“We were in Pierson’s car, but… but he wasn’t the one driving.

” My eyes widen as the words leave me. It’s been years since I’ve said them out loud.

But when I have, I said them over and over.

Screamed them. I needed people to hear me.

I needed people to listen. Because even though I was the one driving?—

“Pierson said it was him?” Liam murmurs.

I face him, my breaths strained by the guilt choking my airways.

“Why would he lie?”

“I don’t know,” I cry. “I mean, I can guess, but?—”

“So guess. Addie,” he says. “I know this is hard for you, but… for selfish reasons, I need you to tell me as much as you remember. I need you to make me understand.”

I wipe at my eyes, nodding. And then I take a moment to gather my thoughts into words. After everything I’ve put Liam through, he deserves more than the truth. He deserves it all.

I met Pierson the summer before my junior year.

He was a year older and was staying with his aunt, who lived nearby.

We literally bumped into each other on our morning runs and…

that was it. We spent almost every spare second of that summer together, and we got really close, really fast. He was the first guy I’d ever dated, so it felt like love, though I’m sure it wasn’t.

I was open with him about my life, my past, my parents, and I confided in him that my biggest fear was that I’d become another statistic.

That I’d be just another foster kid with a chip on my shoulder because of my parents and I didn’t want who they were to determine who I became.

And I was succeeding. I was doing so well with Dayna and Griffin, and I think he saw that.

And I think when he was asked who was driving that night, he wanted to protect that. For me.

His dad is a high-profile politician in Raleigh, and I think Peirson assumed he could get him out of it. Or at the least, he could help him much more than Dayna and Griffin could help me.

The night before the wreck, we’d gone to a party together—some guy he’d met at the gym.

Pierson was like that—making fast friends with everyone.

We drank until we were tipsy. It was the one and only time I’d had alcohol.

The guy’s place was close enough that we could walk to my house.

So, once my curfew hit, he walked me home, kissed me goodnight, and left.

The following day, I got a phone call that felt like an emergency.

I felt like I needed to get somewhere right that second.

I had my license, but I didn’t have a car, and I didn’t want to ask to use Griffin’s or Dayna’s, because I didn’t want them asking questions.

So, I called Pierson, asked if he would take me.

He said he was too tired from the night before, especially for an eight-hour round trip, but he said he’d come with me if I could drive his car. So that’s what we did.

And our lives have never been the same since.

I have zero memories of the days after the accident.

I just remember waking up in the hospital, and Dayna was there.

Peirson’s name was the first word I spoke.

I asked where he was. How he was. But she wouldn’t tell me anything.

My phone had been recovered in the accident, but the battery was dead, so I charged it, and when it restarted, there was a single text from Pierson.

It was just three words— wait for me . I didn’t know what it meant.

Not until later.

Dayna waited for Griffin to visit so they could both sit down and fill in the gaps for me.

Pierson had been arrested, charged, and pleaded guilty.

Apparently, once we got to the hospital after the accident, they drew our blood for alcohol content.

I came up zero, but Pierson… he still had some in his system—a tiny amount.

But still illegal for a minor. Dayna told me that during the closed hearing, he admitted he went back to that party and continued to drink.

His dad couldn’t get him off completely, but they agreed on his punishment.

He had to finish high school at a military-style boarding school, house arrest for a year, complete with ankle monitor.

Two years suspended license, and once he got it back, he had to have an ignition interlock device installed on any car he drives until he’s twenty-one.

He also got a hundred and fifty hours of community service, plus reckless driving causing death on his permanent record.

I think the worst part of it all is the investigation concluded the accident was exactly that—an accident .

They took into account the weather and the condition of the roads, the bend where we collided, and it was like…

like a perfect storm, down to the second.

It was unavoidable. The judge said, had Pierson not been drinking, things may have turned out differently.

If he’d just told the truth—that it was me driving…

I tried.

I tried contacting the police department, the prosecutors, the judge…

anyone who would listen. If they’d just look at the seat position of his car, they’d know it was me.

If they looked at the fucking wound on the left side of my collarbone left by the seat belt, they’d know it was me.

If they did anything other than take his word for it, they’d know it was me.

Griffin and Dayna—eventually, they knew it was me. But it was too late. And in the end, they wanted the same things for me that Pierson did.

They wanted to give me a chance at a life I had no right living. They wanted so badly for me to beat the odds. They stand on the sidelines and cheer me on, but… most days, especially lately, I feel like I fall short of their expectations.

Because while the pursuit of perfection may include redemption… my biggest fear, now, is that I’m irredeemable.