Page 47 of Liam (Preston Brothers #4)

Liam

It’s hard to listen to Addie speak. To listen to her broken breaths and her cries of tortured anguish.

It’s hard to keep track of her words, to make sense of the events that led us to here.

But it’s even harder not to cave into my heart’s desires, not to hold her close and promise that everything will be okay.

Because I don’t know if it will be.

“Anyway,” she says, staring ahead as she wipes the liquid heartache from her cheeks. “During the hearing—before Griffin and Dayna knew the truth—Griffin pushed for a no-contact order for three years. I guess he assumed that Pierson was a bad influence, so…”

“So that’s what the wait for me text meant.”

“Yeah…”

“And that’s why you can’t discuss anything with him?”

Addie nods. “I still have him on social, and for the year after the wreck, he didn’t post anything.

I don’t know if it was a rule of his boarding school or what, but…

I was too scared to communicate with him, and he hadn’t messaged me, so maybe he felt the same.

But he’s posted some in the past couple of years, and I see what he’s doing, who he’s dating…

” She’s still staring ahead, her eyes unfocused as she continues, “I don’t even know if he remembers sending that text or what it means.

It’s just—for the past almost three years, I’ve done what he’s asked, because it’s the least he deserves.

” She finally faces me, her eyes red and raw.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Liam. I should have. ”

I shake my head. It all seems so inconsequential now. “When Roman mentioned it, all he said is you have a boyfriend, and?—”

“He doesn’t know. I mean, obviously he knows about Pierson, but just that he exists, where he exists, and how long he’s existed for. He doesn’t know about the circumstances.”

“Does he know about the car accident?”

“Yes, but not to the extent you now do.”

“Why haven’t you told him?”

Her shoulders lift with her harsh inhale. “Because that day we left, that emergency phone call I got? It was from Wyatt, asking me why I didn’t tell him that Roman was out of prison. I didn’t even know he was.”

Realization hits. “You were on your way here to see him?”

Heartbreak forms her smile. “I haven’t told him that part, either.”

“Why not?

She sighs. “Because he lives with enough guilt as it is when it comes to me.”

“It must run in the family,” I tell her, hopping off the truck.

“What must?”

“The guilt,” I call over my shoulder. I walk a few steps, searching the ground until I find what I want, then bend at the waist to collect it. “Come here.”

She’s slow to get down, slow to make her way toward me.

“Close your eyes,” I say, just above a whisper.

She does as I ask, her cheeks still damp from all the tears she’s shed. Darkness clouds her closed lids, and I’d wager she’s had very little sleep the past few days. And still, she’s beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Then again, she always has been.

I gently grasp her hand, hold it between us, palm up, and set my new find in the center of her palm.

“Open them,” I whisper, and so she does.

She looks down at the orange paint chip in her hand, her breath catching instantly.

Tears well in her eyes when she looks up at me.

“I know it’s too late, and it doesn’t mean anything, but I just need you to know…

it never mattered before you—the whole Pierson thing.

I could’ve happily gone another three years waiting for what I’m pretty sure is nothing, but with you, I couldn’t—I can’t control the feelings I have for you.

” She pauses a beat. “You’re the only one, Liam. ”

I reach up to cup her face, my chest warming when she leans into the touch.

“Why did you ask me to come here?” she questions. “I mean, why are you here at all?”

I wipe the fresh tears from her cheeks. “Because I owe you.”

“You owe me ?” she asks, eyes wide.

I nod. “I owe you an apology. I was hurting—about the boyfriend thing. And I let it get so deep in my head that I made up a scenario that didn’t exist. I brought up things from our past I shouldn’t have?—”

“I had a right to know.”

“I know, but not like that,” I rush out.

“Not with the sole intent to hurt you. And I’m sorry I did.

” I swallow the knotted ache in my throat.

“More than anything, though, I’m here because I want you to know that I forgive you.

But my forgiveness doesn’t mean shit if you can’t forgive yourself. For everything .”

She pulls out of my reach. “You can’t just click your fingers and forget the past?—”

“I don’t want to forget the past,” I admit. “The past is what got me here.”

“And you think that mindset is enough to forgive me?”

“You think it’s not?”

She shakes her head. “Honestly, no.”

“Fine. Then I’ll just spend the rest of your days here proving otherwise.”

“Yeah?” she laughs, but it’s sad. “How do you plan to do that?”

“I don’t know,” I muse, then smile to one side. “Anyone ever mean to you before? Because I got an entire baseball team’s worth of bats and some pent-up rage I might want to get rid of.”

“Oh, my God,” she mumbles, covering her face with her hands.

I step closer and pull her to me, smiling wider when she buries her head in my chest. It’s not the infamous chest-lay my brothers speak of, but it’s close.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, holding back a chuckle. “But you really went at it, Addie. Jesus.”

“Stop,” she whines, trying to pull away.

I only hold her tighter. “Not going to lie, it was a little hot.”

“You do lie.”

“Fine. It was a lot hot . ” I run a hand over her braid—pale pink ribbon today. “Come back to work,” I almost beg, rearing back. I wait until she’s looking up at me to shift the stray hairs from her eyes and look directly into them when I tell her, “I miss you.”