Page 15 of Liam

“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 becauseshe’dhave 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 allwoe 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’veseenthe change.

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

7

Liam

I don’t recall anyone ever reading me bedtime stories. I know it sounds like apoor mesituation, but it’s really not. And it’s not to say that it didn’t happen; I just don’t remember it. I guess that’s what happens when your mom dies when you’re only four, your dad has a lot on his plate, and you’re raised by a nanny for the next few years. My brothers—the older ones—have mentioned Lucy taking over between the death and the new hire, but again, I was way too young to remember much of anything from that time.

I remember being sad.

I remember dressing up in a suit and going to the cemetery and then having a bunch of people over at the house.

I remember sitting in the corner, not knowing how to feel or act while Lincoln played with toys on the floor. He seemed fine, and I didn’t quite understand why.

I remember all of this, but… I don’t remember bedtime stories.

To be fair, if someone was reading to anyone, it would’ve been to my little brother. Besides, Linc and I had always been… Linc and I. Even now, there’s barely a time when we’re seen as two separate people. Growing up, every one of my siblings got their own bedrooms, but not us. We’d always shared. Even when my sister moved into the cabin during her junior year of high school, we didn’t even consider taking her room. Maybe that’s why no one read to us, because we’d always fall asleep in each other’s company.

Either that, or maybe we were just forgotten.

Who knows?

I pull out of my thoughts and back to reality, taking in my surroundings. The walls of the bedroom are blue, with flecks of different shades to mimic outer space. If I got close enough, I could run my finger along the glittery swirls and feel the crushed rock embedded in the paint. All the furniture is wooden, taken from my brother’s childhood bedroom. There are two identical shelves filled with books.

Over the past two years, since my brother Leo has known his son, Benny has picked up on Leo’s love of reading. And Lucy, who owns a bookstore, provides him with enough of them to last a lifetime. There aren’t just books on the shelves, though. There are rocks, too, some of them encased in plastic display cubes next to a picture of each uncle who helped him find them. It’s a genuine display of the pure love my nephew has for us, and I can’t help but smile as I roll my head on the pillow and glance at the little boy sleeping soundly beside me.

I finally close the book in my hands, even though I’d finished reading it a good ten minutes ago, and carefully set it under his pillow where he likes it kept. And then I just take a moment and watch him. Around a year ago, doctors diagnosed him “on the spectrum,” though his parents made it clear to us it changes nothing about the way they’ll raise him or the way we treat him,which was a given, but… I lose sleep over howotherpeople will treat him, not just now, but in the future. I’d hate for him to live in a world where he has to mute his true self, or hide his emotions, or… be anything other than who he truly is.

I’ve lived that childhood, and I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.

Besides, Benny is special. Not because of his diagnosis, or even because he’s my blood. But because there’s something deep within him… like a quiet stillness that resets your senses, forgives the darkness in your soul, and steadies the world around you. He’s the calm to my storm, even when I don’t feel the raindrops.

My sister-in-law, Mia, is doing the dishes when I finally make it downstairs. She turns to me as I approach, her smile soft. “All done, Uncle Twinny?” she asks, using the name Benny created for Linc and me.

Outside of my immediate family, there are only two people in this world who have always been able to tell us apart. Mia is one, and the other… Well, the other stormed out of my studio in a rage a few hours ago. The one thing that’s killed the anxiety since then has been spending time with Benny and Mia.

Nodding, I roll up my sleeves and grab a dish towel, ready to dry.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says, pushing into my side.

I grab the nearest pot and get to work. “I know. I want to,” I reply, and it’s not a lie. Whenever Leo works nights, I stay here, in the spare bedroom. Not because Leo hasn’t made his house safer than Fort Knox, but becauseIsleep better knowing there’s someone here to protect them. Though, the likelihood that something will happen is close to zero because: One, you’dbe a stupid motherfucker to mess with Leo’s family, and two, Mia’s dad is the billionaire Linc is obsessed with. So, if anythingwereto happen, you’d be dead within hours and your existence erased off the face of the earth.

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