Page 8 of Liam (Preston Brothers #4)

Addie

I should’ve taken up Dayna’s offer to come home for the weekend, but it didn’t feel right to bail on Roman after only a week.

Not that I planned to disappear forever, but the temptation to stay would’ve been there, and I didn’t want to risk it.

Now it’s Saturday, and I find myself slow-strolling up the long-ass driveway toward the Preston cabin, because there’s nothing else to do.

After the first two days of work, and Roman having to come home on his morning break to pick me up, I told him not to bother.

That I could find my own way. His apartment wasn’t all that far from the Preston property, so I could walk.

Besides, I needed the exercise. I didn’t want to become completely stagnant over the summer break.

I’ve spent the past few days in the cabin alone, with only my phone to keep me sane. It’s a complete contrast to my life back home. Even without the boys around, there was always something to do. Something to keep my hands and mind busy.

I’m antsy, bored, and constantly on the verge of giving up on this little charade.

And, admittedly, I may be a little homesick.

From what I can tell, no one else has stepped foot in the cabin while I’ve been there, and I expect it to be the same when I unlock the door.

It’s not.

I freeze the second I step inside and notice the twins sitting on the couch, their camera equipment set up in front of them. Liam looks away, but Lincoln… Lincoln’s smile is huge as he stands up and approaches me, his arms wide open. “Addie!” he greets.

Before I can protest, I’m locked in his embrace, and—surprisingly—I don’t want to push him away. Liam stays on the couch, unmoving, unwavering from his clear and unwarranted hatred toward me.

Idiot.

Lincoln pulls away, saying, “It’s good to have you back!”

Is it though? Because I swear, I can’t recall ever speaking to Lincoln in my life. “Thanks. It’s good to see you, too,” I say, continuing the ridiculous facade.

“You’re working on a Saturday?” he asks.

I shrug. “My brother’s at work, so I figured I may as well get as much done as possible.”

“My dad’s crew doesn’t work Saturdays.”

“Yeah, he’s working at an auto shop today,” I inform. A detail I just recently discovered. My brother works two jobs, six days a week, and I haven’t had the nerve to ask why.

“Right on.” Lincoln nods his approval, as if I needed it, and I glance toward Liam, who’s gone from passive to outright glaring.

Asshole.

“Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair,” I tell him, not waiting for a response before making my way to the back room.

I set myself up for the day while the twins’ hushed voices filter through the open door.

I don’t pay them much attention until one of them yells, “What’s up, guys!

We’re back!” I assume it’s a well-rehearsed intro into one of their videos, though I don’t care enough to find out.

“What the fuck?” Lincoln yells, and I know it’s Lincoln because he’s always been the loud one. The outspoken one. I guess that’s what happens when you have to speak for two.

I sit taller, suddenly curious about Liam’s response. “I’m done for today,” he says.

“What do you mean ? ”

Liam doesn’t raise his voice, just stays stoic and calm. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Lincoln argues. “I had plans with Julie today. You were the one who wanted to block out this time.”

“Fuck off!” Liam snaps. Finally . “Just call her and tell her. She won’t care.”

There’s a beat of silence before a door slams shut, and for a long moment, I stay still, listening.

I expect another door to close, or signs of movement, or…

anything. Nothing comes. And so I carefully step out into the hallway, creeping my way toward the living room.

Liam is still there, sitting on the couch, facing the cameras.

His body remains still, but his eyes… His eyes slowly find mine.

I suck in a breath, release it slowly. Guilt nips at my insides, and I lower my stare. “Did I ruin your flow or something?”

“Yeah, you did,” he huffs, standing to full height. He walks toward me, mumbling, “I thought I told you to stay the fuck out of my way.”

That guilt I’d felt? Completely gone and immediately replaced with anger. Who the fuck does this guy think he is? Before I can retort, he’s pushing past me and toward the front door, and I almost recoil at the loudness of the door slamming shut between us.

“Fucking asshole,” I mutter under my breath. My rage simmers just beneath the surface as I force myself to get to work. The quicker I get this shit done, the sooner I’ll never have to see his stupid face again.

An hour passes before the door opens again, but I don’t bother checking who it is.

I keep my head down and do what I need to pass the time.

It only lasts a few minutes before drilling begins.

Rolling my eyes, I give up on work and leave the office.

Liam is… hanging curtains. I assume to block my view of the living room should I arrive unexpectedly again.

It’s kind of ridiculous considering his family’s in construction.

Surely they could hang some doors. Clearly, this petty little act of his is less functional than it is a message.

I cross my arms as I watch him set the rod in place. “Really?” I ask, then drop my hands to my sides. “Honestly, asshole, I don’t know why you’re holding on to so much anger toward me. I’m the one who should be pissed at you.”

“Still with the name-calling,” he mutters. Then he turns to me, his giant frame closing in. “And what the fuck did I ever do to you?”

There’s no way he would’ve forgotten. I sure haven’t. But since he asked… “You told the cops where I was hiding that night!”

His face falls… while my anger rises. For years, I’ve held on to this animosity toward the boy in front of me, and I don’t know how I’ve kept it locked away until now.

When I saw him again, almost exactly where we stand, the first thing I wanted to do was kick him.

The second is what I’m about to do—let him know exactly how I feel about him.

“You led them right to me!” I yell, trying to hide my emotions.

But it doesn’t work. A knot forms in my throat, comes out in the wavering of my voice.

Still, I raise my chin, attempt to show an iota of strength, all while I crumble inside.

“You have no idea what I went through that night! You don’t know what it’s like to be grabbed, thrown to the ground, and handcuffed .

” A single tear breaks through, and I’m quick to swipe it away.

I haven’t spoken about that night since…

. e ver. But if anyone’s deserving of a retelling, it’s the one person who made it happen.

“They threw me in the back of a squad car as if my life meant nothing. As if I meant nothing!” I lock my eyes on his, so he understands the weight of what I say next.

“ You did that!” I stab a finger into his chest, determined to hurt him the way he hurt me.

“ You ripped me away from the only family I have! And I hope you live the rest of your fucking life knowing how badly you broke me!”

I can barely breathe after my outburst, let alone inhale the same air as Liam fucking Preston, so I grab my shit and leave. As soon as I’m out of the house, I send Roman a text telling him not to pick me up like we’d originally planned, then call Wyatt.

He takes approximately six minutes to pull into the cabin’s driveway, and I spend those six minutes making sure my tears are dry and my voice is even so he doesn’t pick up on my emotional state.

He does anyway. “You good?” is the first thing he asks when I get in his truck.

I make a pointed effort to stare out the window so he doesn’t see my face. “Yeah.”

He sighs, waits a beat before mumbling, “You still suck at lying, Addie.”

We don’t speak another word as we drive to Main Street, where he tells me to wait in the truck while he goes into the grocery store. He returns only minutes later with a full bag and throws it in the back seat before I can see what’s inside, and then we’re off again.

I should probably ask where he’s taking me, but the answer wouldn’t change anything.

We pull up to the closed gates of a private residential area, where he enters a code into the panel of the security gate and waits patiently for the iron bars to spread so he can drive through.

Wyatt still lives at home with his parents, on what assholes like Liam would refer to as the bad side of town.

The only reason he has access to this neighborhood is because he’s messing with some lonely housewife who lives here.

He takes us to an undeveloped piece of land that overlooks the town below it and reverses to the edge.

After he grabs the bag from the back, we hop out and meet at the tailgate.

I assume we’re just going to sit and talk, but instead, he grabs a golf club from the bed and hands it to me.

I look down at the club, then back at him.

He remains silent as he pulls a backpack toward him and unzips it to show me the golf balls in there, then motions over the cliff edge.

“One,” I say. “Did you steal these?”

Wyatt works at a golf course a town over and spends his days serving the elite while cursing them behind their backs. “Of course.”

I nod. “Two. I don’t golf.”

Wyatt smirks. “Neither do I.” Then he lowers the tailgate and sits in the bed of the truck, resting his back against the side. “You still got it, slugger ?”

My smile is slow, built up by the sudden onset of excitement swarming my stomach. Fingers tingling on the grip of the club, I place the shaft on my shoulder, then raise it. “Have you still got it?”

He scoffs. “Did I ever?”

“Not really,” I retort, and we laugh together as he throws a golf ball high in the air toward me.

I swing… and miss completely.

Wyatt busts out a guffaw.

“Shut up! It’s harder than it looks!” I motion for him to throw me another one, only to get the same result. This happens three more times before I finally hit the ball with a loud thwack, and I turn to Wyatt, my smile unrestrained. And maybe a little cocky.

“ Nice,” he muses, watching the ball until it disappears completely.

“Hey, Wy?”

His eyes trail to mine. “What’s up?”

“Thank for this.” It’s exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it.

“Are you kidding? I finally have someone around to do dumb shit with.” He throws another golf ball my way. I hit this one farther than the first. “Wow. Your stepdad’s really been working with you, huh?”

“Foster dad,” I correct.

He shrugs. “Same thing.”

“Not even a little bit.”

But Griffin isn’t the one who got me into softball.

Roman did. He introduced me to T-ball as soon as I could hold a foam bat, and I’ve loved it ever since.

I don’t know if I love the game so much as I love that I got to experience it with him, but either way, it’s turned out well for me.

Roman was a pitcher in high school, but he always played second to another guy on his team—a guy now in the major league.

Sometimes, I wonder how far he could’ve gone if someone else hadn’t always outshined him.

Considering he dropped out of school at sixteen, I have a feeling he didn’t care all that much about baseball.

But I do. Even with the wrong equipment, being out here, doing this…

it’s the first time I’ve felt like myself since I got here.

It feels like I haven’t been able to breathe until now.

As if there’s been a constant weight on my shoulders, an unbearable ache in my chest, and I wish I knew the source, so I could kill it dead.

I spend the next few minutes hitting ball after ball, while Wyatt rips into the snacks he’d bought (possibly stolen) earlier.

But he’s quiet, almost too quiet, and I already know what he’s thinking before he even says the words.

“So… are you going to tell me what happened today?” he asks around a mouthful of chips.

“Or do I need to pay our old friend a visit?”

I turn to him, my head tilted slightly. “Our old friend?”

“Twincest.”

With a sigh, I lower the golf club I’d been using as a baseball bat and ask, “You’re not still messing with him, are you?”

“No.” He laughs once. “I couldn’t give fewer fucks about the kid. Why? You want me to?”

Maybe. “No.”

“Good,” he responds, motioning for me to sit on the tailgate as he hands over a bag of Starbursts. “He’ll probably post about it on YouTube.”

I sit my ass down and carefully open the bag, making sure the tiny squares of sugary goodness don’t explode everywhere. “Yeah, I heard about that.”

“Heard about it or saw it?”

I pick out a orange Starburst and focus on unwrapping it. “I don’t really go on YouTube that much.”

“Still… they’re kind of everywhere.”

“They are?” I ask, glancing up at him.

Wyatt nods, saying, “They’re kind of a big deal. Not so much around here anymore, but definitely online. They have, like, six million followers on YouTube alone.”

“Is that good?”

“Addie,” he says through a chuckle. “When they first got big, the town was infiltrated with horny preteen girls every weekend, all hoping for just a glimpse of them.”

My eyes widen. “No shit?”

“Shit,” he deadpans. “Their dad had to hire extra security for the shops on Main Street just to deal with them. Their sister’s shop—the bookstore…

” I kind of remember the store from when I lived here, but I’ve never stepped foot in there.

“It had to shut down for months because she’d have stalkers. ”

“You lie.”

“I don’t.” Wyatt shakes his head before adding, “Kind of nuts considering how they got their fame.”

“What do you mean?”

“The first video of theirs that went viral was all about Liam. He was all woe is me. I hate school. I get bullied. I have anxiety. Blah, blah, blah.” He rolls his eyes. “The kid’s a fucking joke, Addie, and he hasn’t changed a bit.”

Oh, but he has, I want to tell him.

I’ve seen the change.

And even though I’ll never admit it to anyone, I almost fear the change I see within him.