Page 101 of Liam

“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.”

“Youdolie.”

“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.”

38

Liam

Linc and I decided to have a morning gym session the next day, so I enter the studio later than usual. I stop just inside the door, hoping to hear the click, click, clicking of the keyboard, and when nothing but silence greets me, my shoulders drop.

I make my way to the back room, just to be sure, but Addie isn’t in her usual spot.

Technically, she neversaidshe’d be returning to work, so I don’t know why I’m so disappointed.

We were quiet on the drive back from the junkyard yesterday, and when I got to her place, I met Victor in the parking lot. He got out of his truck at the same time we did. “Addie!” he beamed.

“Victor,” she growled.

I walked her to her door, made sure she was safely inside, passed Victor on the way out, and waited five minutes in the truck before getting out again and releasing the air from all four of his tires.

Addie

“Good morning,” I say, causing Liam to jump in his desk chair.

He spins to me, his eyes as wide as his smile. Before I can protest—not that I would—I’m in his embrace and being lifted off my feet. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“I was in the kitchen getting a drink.”

He sets me back on my feet. “I’m glad you’re here.”

We can’t stop smiling at each other. “Me, too.” Then I motion to his computer screens. “Have you got a lot on today?”

He sits back in his chair, looks down at the notes in his planner. “A little, but I can fuck it all off if you want to do something.”

“I have some catching up to do, but maybe after?” I tell him, focused on the planner. “So… I have a question.”

“Go for it.”

“One time, I was near your desk and saw this,” I say, tapping on the open page. “I noticed these random letters or codes at the corner of each day?—”

“Are you spying on me?” he teases.

“No!” Maybe a little. “I was just curious, is all. Is it a YouTube thing?” For days after I first saw it, I would occasionally glance at the planner if he wasn’t at his desk, but obviously, I’ve never figured out what it could possibly mean.

“Nope. Not a YouTube thing.”

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