Page 1 of Liam

PROLOGUE

Liam - Age 14

The cushion flies at my head so fast, I don’t have time to respond.

“Knock it off,” Lincoln snaps. “You’re makingmeanxious.”

“Bro’s literally just sitting there,” my younger brother, Lachlan, says, his gaze switching from Linc to me.

I take the cushion from my lap and place it beside me on the couch, then shrug. It’s really all I can do in this situation, but he’s right. Linc was scrolling on his phone, and Lachy was watching whatever’s on the television, and I… I was just sitting here, doing absolutely nothing. I hadn’t shown any outward signs of anxiety, even though my mind was filled with it. That’s the thing about Lincoln, though—he reads me better than anyone. Some people think it’s that twin telepathy bullshit. Too bad for me, it only seems to work one way. I’ve rarely been able to predict what Lincoln is thinking, let alone feeling. Maybe I don’t try hard enough. Or maybe he doesn’t give me time to figure it out before he makes it known to everyone around him.

Without a word, I get up and exit the house through the front door. The sun’s just beginning to dip now, turning the world that shade of orange that makes everything look better than it truly is. I’ve just made it down the porch steps when the door opens behind me. “Son.”

I turn to my dad, standing in the open doorway. I’d hate to calculate how many times in his life he’s used that single word. Six sons, one daughter, and come to think of it, I’ve never heard him refer to my sister, Lucy, as just “daughter.”

For as long as I can remember, the dynamic between the Preston kids had always been the same. Lucy’s the oldest and only girl, so she’s kind of always led the charge. Then there are the older boys: Lucas, Leo and Logan. There’s a three-year difference between Lucas and Logan, the same amount of years between Logan and us, but it’s enough of a difference to seem to separate us. The three older Preston boys are in one world, and we’re in another. Then there’s Lachlan, the “baby,” who’s three years younger than us, and he’s in a world all on his own.

Dad motions to the detached garage twenty yards away. “You going for a ride?”

Nodding, I tell him, “I’ll probably take one of the ATVs.” Not that he needs to know that information or would really care either way, but sometimes I feel like I need to speak just for the sake of speaking.

“Okay,” he says, returning my nod. “Don’t be out too late. You have school tomorrow.”

As if I needed the reminder. Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t read me the way Lincoln does, because if he did, he’d know that school is the sole reason for the level of unease currently creeping through my veins. Not just school, buthigh school.

Linc has referred to this impending moment in our lives as a fresh start. A reset, if you will. Personally, I just see it as a biggercampus with a lot more people.Newpeople. People who can hear one lie about me and join in on continuing to make my life a living hell.

Fun.

Dad watches me, his eyes narrowed slightly, set on mine, as if doing so will allow him to crawl into my brain and pick apart the pieces. “Are you ready?”

Define ready?I want to ask. Instead, I offer another nod and a mumbled lie. “Yeah, I’m good.” He wasn’t in the living room with the rest of us before, so I assume he was in his office. I add, because again, I feel like I need to saysomething, “You work too much.”

Dad stands taller at my words. “You think?”

I shrug.

He entertains my musings. “Maybe I’ll retire soon.”

“Nah,” I say, glancing toward the garage. I need to leave. And soon. “You’ll get bored too easily.”

“That’s… true.”

I face him again and force a smile. “I won’t be out too late.” Then I head toward the garage, not waiting for a reply.

If we used the garage for its intended purposes, it would be spacious enough to house eight cars. Right now, there are no cars—but there are a lot of what my dad refers to as Big Boy Toys: ATVs, dirt bikes, golf carts—none of them belonging to any one person. With three older brothers, these “toys” seem to have spawned out of nowhere and have accumulated over time. I hop on the nearest ATV, the keys already in the ignition, and bring it to life. By the time I pass the house, Dad’s already back inside.

When I was younger, I thought the best thing about living on a hundred-plus acres was that there was always somewhere to play. Now, the best thing is that there’s always somewhere tohide.

The problem?

I’m not the only one who likes to hide out here.

I keep that in mind as I ride the same tracks created by my brothers before me—tracks that wind through tall trees and short brush, over large roots and fallen branches, then into the vast opening by the lake. My eyes remain open the entire time, searching for any signs ofher.

It was around the same time—almost four years ago—when I was riding around on a bike and stumbled across her. She was alone, on her phone, sitting against the old VW bus left here by my sister’s husband. Its initial purpose was a fort for Lachlan, back when he was still a toddler. He’s ten now. It had been years since anyone had used it, so I don’t really know what compelled me to check on it that night, but I’ve regretted it ever since.

She was hiding—from who or what, I have no idea. All I know is that she told me—no,warnedme—not to tell anyone. Right before she ran away.

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