Page 116 of Liam

To inhale.

Exhale.

My eyes drift closed and stay that way until the sunlight begins to fade. When it’s almost dipped below the horizon, I get back on the bike and go to the only place I know that’ll give me a semblance of peace.

The ballpark is empty—similar to yesterday—but a contrast to how I usually experience it. Usually, when I’m here, it’s for Benny’s games, and the bleachers I’m sitting in are filled with my family. It had always been my life—unbreakable bonds and unwavering support, all through the love of my family. That will always exist, and I’ve never felt the need to search for something else. Something more. And maybe that’s the problem… and I don’t know if it’s me, specifically, or the way Dad raised us—but it’s almost as if I’d been sheltered from the ugliness of the world, the darkness that lurks in the shadows.

My gaze catches on the figure standing at the bottom, and for a moment, I expect to see Lincoln. I stare back out at the field as Logan makes his way up and sits down beside me.

I don’t even know how long I’ve been gone. Hours, I’m sure. The phone in my pocket hasn’t gone off once.

“Lincoln tell you where to find me?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything more, and I’m glad. There’s not a lot I think I could verbalize right now. But the longer the silence lasts, the more the world tilts, and my head spins and spins, and I can’t think. I can’t see. I can’t fucking breathe. “Liam…” Logansays, but he sounds so far away. His hand grips my shoulder, squeezing. “Bro…”

“It’s you all over again,” I mutter.

“No, it’s not,” he says, and I don’t know how he’s managed to stay so calm. “Look at me.”

I do as he asks, but the tears in my eyes make it hard to see him.

“Liam, it’s not the same.”

“Then why do Ifeelthe same?” I mutter. “Why do I feel so fucking helpless?” I shake my head, my pulse slamming against my rib cage. “I just stood there, Logan. While she was drowning in her pain, I just fucking stood there. I could barely look at her, let alone comfort her, which is fucking bullshit, because all of this—it’s my fucking fault, and?—”

“How?” he cuts in. “How is it your fault?”

I wipe at my eyes. “Because we were kind of together before. Then that afternoon after Benny’s game, we all went back to the lake and Roman mentioned she had a boyfriend… The next day, I—I lost it on her. I brought up shit from our past, and that probably triggered this whole fucking thing. Then the whole Wyatt shit happened, and—” I heave out a sigh. “We moved on from it, Ithink, but then yesterday, I mentioned her parents, told her I was sorry, and then she told me about the accident, who was involved, and I told her about Rhys and?—”

“What about Rhys?” Logan cuts in.

“It was his girlfriend’s grandparents—the people in the other car. That’s why she was there today—to apologize to her, and I don’t know exactly what happened, but it didn’t go well.”

“Jesus,” Logan breathes out.

For a long moment, neither of us says a word, lost in our own thoughts.

He’s the one to break the silence—his words so low, I barely hear him. “Addie didn’t flatline, climb that peak, and choose tojump,” he says. “All of that shit—all at once—it pushed her over the edge.”

It’s enough to push anyone over the edge.

“You knew, didn’t you?” I turn to him. “You knew about Addie’s childhood?”

Logan nods, his tired gaze looking out at the empty field. “Roman knows about my past.”

My eyes widen in shock. “You told him?”

“I put him in charge on Wednesday mornings when I have therapy. He didn’t know why I had the mornings off, but when he asked, I told him the truth.” He pauses a breath. “Before he invited Addie for the summer, he asked what kind of therapist I was seeing. He worried that being here might affect her a certain way, so he wanted to be prepared, just in case.” He shrugs. “I trust Roman—the guy’s like a brother to me, so I was open about everything.”

I think about Logan and the bravery it would’ve taken for him to reveal such things. And then I think about me—the biggest fucking coward in the world. I look to my brother, say out loud what I’ve felt since Addie got in my car earlier today. “I don’t know what to do.”

He claps my shoulder, holds me steady. “You just be there for her, man,” he tells me. “She’ll be okay.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she has Roman and her foster parents. And she has you, which means she has all of us.”

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