Page 107 of Liam

His smile is wicked. Cocky.Hot.“Say more.”

“I mean, Pierson and I did it a couple of times?—”

“Say less,” he cuts in.

I giggle into his arm.

“You think I’m joking?” he asks, shifting closer and settling his hand on my hip. The urge to throw my leg over him and closethe distance between us is palpable. Thankfully, I have enough self-control to remember we’re out in public. He adds, “The idea of another guy’s hands on you makes me want to a punch a hole through the wall.”

“That’s very… possessive.”

He shrugs. “I guess we both experienced firsts, then.”

My eyebrows pinch. “What about your previous girls?”

“Girl. Just one.” He heaves out a sigh. “She was one of Julie’s friends from college. Came to town last summer to visit, and… that’s about it.”

“So, one time, last summer?”

“No. I mean, it was multiple times during the summer, but it’s not—” he breaks off there.

“It’s not what?” I push.

“It’s not like it meant anything.”

“So it was just, what? A summer fling?”

Another shrug. “I guess.”

“Like us?”

His mouth opens, shuts. Then he rolls onto his back, rubbing his eyes, before using his forearm to shield them. After a long moment, he finally asks, “Is that what this is to you?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “I guess I’m trying to figure out howI’many different.”

His throat moves with his heavy swallow before turning to me again. “Because with her, it was purely physical. We had needs we could take care of for each other, so we did. But it’s not like I thought about her when she wasn’t around. I didn’t miss her when she was gone. And believe me, those feelings were mutual. Whatever we had—it was easy to get over.”

“And this isn’t? Easy to get over, I mean—you and me?”

His eyes search mine for the longest time, and I can see the brightness dull with each passing second. Ihateit. “Canyouget over this?”

“No,” I answer freely. Because I know, deep in my soul, I’llneverget over Liam Preston. I’ll never inhale another breath without a part of him in it. He’ll live inside me forever, in the deepest recesses of my heart—the parts I’ve been too afraid to explore but will now willingly go—just to search for a tiny fragment of him.

“Addie,” he whispers, and I love the way he says my name. The way his palm feels against my jaw. The way his thumb strokes my cheek. The way his eyes continue to search mine, long after I’ve shown him everything inside me. “You know why I brought you out here?”

“No.”

“Because this place reminds me of you. It always has—since we were kids. And I’ve been thinking about it a lot the past few days… all the games we played… all the practices… I’m trying to remember if I ever saw your parents here…”

I’m quick to sit up, every inch of muscle tensing inside me… right before they all turn to ash.

40

Addie

We were in the middle of apaint-chipmoment. A sudden, unexpected sliver of perfection hidden between the cruelties of reality. Of life.

Why did he have to ruin it?

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