Page 5 of Liam (Preston Brothers #4)

Another alert on my phone grabs my attention, and I’m quick to open the text from Griffin.

Griffin

You left her on read.

You know what that means, Addie…

I giggle to myself as I reply:

Addie

She’s spiraling, huh?

Griffin

Fast. You know she’s concerned about you.

Addie

I’ll call her now.

Griffin

Thanks, AB. Love you.

Surprisingly, the phone call with Dayna is all I needed to get through the rest of the day.

I told her about my new job, minus the idiot boy who might come with it, and let her know that everything with Roman is good.

She was incredibly encouraging with my decision to leave for summer, stating how important it was that I rebuild whatever relationship I had left with my brother.

Dayna was more than a foster mom to me. In the years I’d known her, she’d become my best friend—a bond made easy considering she was only twelve years older than me…

two years older than my brother. We told each other almost everything.

Our fears, our dreams, our wants and souls’ desires.

Throughout our call, I could hear her clicking away at one of the hundred little fidget clickers she keeps scattered around the house—a sign she was trying to control her unease.

I grabbed the one attached to my keys and started doing the same, all the while assuring her, over and over, that I was fine.

That I was happy. Because anything else would just cause her worry, and she already worries enough.

I spend the rest of the day listening to true crime podcasts while scanning page after page and organizing the files into folders.

It’s slow, monotonous work, which sucks in a way, because it allows me to dive deep into my thoughts, digging up old, forgotten memories of the boy who apparently sleeps only feet away.

Liam hasn’t returned since he stormed off this morning—thank God—because I don’t know how I’d react if he did.

I’d probably punch him.

No, I wouldn’t.

But I want to.

A text comes through from Roman, letting me know he’s on his way, and so I make sure I have everything saved and quickly gather the few items I brought with me.

I purposely ignore the “studio” part of the cabin when I make my way to the door, and as soon as I step out, I immediately come face to chest with Liam.

Great. He’s shirtless, covered in sweat, and it’s obvious he’s just come back from a run or workout.

As much as it pains me to say, puberty plus time has been good to little Liam.

He’s no longer the scrawny kid always hiding in his twin brother’s shadow.

Now, he’s all grown up, all man and muscle, and if I leaned in close enough, I’m sure I’d be able to inhale all the testosterone leaking from his pores.

I trail my gaze from his bare chest up to his face, where a thick strand of dark hair falls over his brow.

He palms it aside as he lowers his eyebrows, his ocean-blue eyes darkening with every passing second.

Clearly, he’s about as happy to see me as I am to be standing here.

Though, to be honest, I don’t know what the fuck his problem could be.

I almost roll my eyes at his reaction.

Almost.

Instead, I put on a smile and greet him with a peachy sweet, “Good afternoon, Liam.”

He scoffs, looking over my shoulder as if there’s anything there besides the door I just walked through. “ Liam , huh?”

My brow dips in confusion.

He shrugs, his gaze meeting mine for the first time. “What? No Twincest anymore?”

“Wow…” I bite back a guffaw, because what ? I’d forgotten about that stupid nickname. Clearly, he hasn’t. “You really held on to that one, didn’t you?”

Crossing his arms, he tilts his chin, looking down his nose at me when he declares, “You know how easy it would be to get you fired?”

My immediate thought is, “What the fuck?” and I say it out loud.

“Just stay the fuck out of my way, and we won’t have a problem.”

“Trust me. I have no plans to be anywhere near you.” I push past him and stomp down the porch steps. “Fucking asshole.”

Liam laughs, short and humorless. “You know, I always wondered if you had it in you. That dog you kept on a short leash always did your barking for you.”

I spin to him, my confusion mixed with rage barely contained. “ What ?”

“Your boy, Helmet .”

Liam was called Twincest as much as Wyatt was called Helmet .

The difference? Wyatt didn’t let a name wound him.

Liam clearly has. “Funny,” I muse, just as Roman pulls into the driveway.

“I could say the same about Lincoln with you. Where is he, anyway? Off somewhere fighting another one of your battles?”

Liam’s jaw tightens, clearly struck by my words, and it’s obvious he wants to retort, but he doesn’t. He simply looks over at Roman, fakes a smile and a wave, and then enters the cabin without another word spoken.

I inhale one full breath, and then another, before taking the few steps to Roman’s truck. The second I open the door, I freeze.

On the passenger’s seat is my backpack—the one the cop stole from me.

I look up at Roman, who gives nothing away. He simply shifts the backpack from the seat to the floorboard. “Strangest thing…” he starts, and I sit my ass in his truck, already preparing for the worst.