Page 17 of Liam

“Did you ask him?” Wyatt asks, resting his forearm on the steering wheel.

We’re sitting in the parking lot of Roman’s apartment complex, and I haven’t made a move to get out. I shove the photo between the pages of my journal, muttering, “Not yet.”

“Well, you probably should,” he replies. “You know, I didn’t even realize it until I saw that picture, but you and Roman look nothing alike.”

I crack a smile. “We have different moms.”

“Oh.” His brow dips. “I never knew that.”

“Because it was never important.” He’s right though. Besides our dark eyes we got from our dad, Roman and I are almost opposites. He has dark, almost black hair, and mine is on the lighter side of dull blonde. Roman’s tall, naturally tanned, built, and athletic through genetics. I burn to a crisp under the sun and have to work extra hard just to put on any weight.

Roman had always lived here with his mom, but I vaguely remember him visiting us a couple towns over when I was younger. When he was around fourteen and I was four, his mom met a long-haul trucker and wanted to be with him. She said Roman could join them, but that wasn’t really an adventure he wanted to embark on, especially since he was in high school and wanted to stay, and so our dad, my mom, and I moved here to be with him. My parents took over the lease for their house until the contract was over, then moved to the trailer. The trailer only had one bedroom. Roman and I slept on the floor of the living room until he quit school, got a job as a trainee mechanic, and moved into an apartment with some guys he barely knew. The day he moved out was one of the worst days of my life.

I look up at Roman’s apartment now, noticing the light still on, and heave out a sigh.

“I like Roman,” Wyatt says out of nowhere.

I turn to him, and he shrugs, as if reading my thoughts.

“He’s always been nice to me. I was just some loser kid hanging around his baby sister. He could’ve made my life hell,even now. But he’s one of the good ones, Addie. Maybe you should cut him some slack.”

I shoulder my backpack, refusing to meet his eyes so he doesn’t see the instant tears that cloud my vision. “Thanks for coming to my rescue today,” I tell him, opening the door. “I’ll call you!” I don’t wait for a response before closing the door between us and practically jogging up the stairs toward Roman’s apartment. I stop just outside the door when I hear his voice filtering through the walls. It’s only him speaking, so he’s likely on the phone, but I can’t hear him clearly enough to make out what he’s saying.

I make sure my keys are loud when I unlock the door, so he knows I’m about to enter. The moment I open the door, Roman’s eyes meet mine. Phone held to his ear, he says, “My sister just got home. I’ll call you later.”

Barely a foot inside the apartment, I shake my head. “You don’t have to hang up.”

But he already has. He gets up from his spot on the couch, but doesn’t approach me. “Have you had dinner?”

“Yeah.”

Roman bobs his head, his eyes shifting toward the kitchen, where two brown bags sit on the counter.

“I’m sorry. Were you waiting for me?”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your phone call.” I point my thumb over my shoulder. “I can come back.”

“No. I’m glad you’re here,” he rushes out. “I think—I think we need to have a talk.”

I stand, frozen, unable to comprehend what that means or where he plans to go with it.

He leans against the arm of the couch—his bed currently—and crosses his arms, then uncrosses them. “You don’t have to be here, Addie.”

My heartplummets. A knot forms in my throat, and I attempt to swallow it down, but it doesn’t work. “You… you want me to leave?”

“Not at all,” he’s quick to say, and then he closes the space between us, taking my hand and leading me to the couch. I sit and wait for him to do the same, his entire body turned to mine. “I don’twantyou to leave,” he assures. “But maybe I jumped the gun with this whole thing. I mean, I don’t speak to you for years, and then suddenly I think it’s okay to invite you here for the entire summer? I don’t know what I was thinking.” He’s shaking his head, rambling, letting out all his thoughts, all at once. “Maybe… maybe I should’ve started by visiting you, you know?”

“Or a phone call,” I say as I blink back the tears threatening to fall. “A phone call here and there wouldn’t have hurt.”

Suddenly, I’m in his arms, and I’m a kid again, and he’s my big brother, my guider, my protector. “I’m sorry, Addie.”

For years, I’ve held on to this pain, on to so many questions I never got the answers to. I pull back, wiping at my eyes. “I wrote you letters.”

“I know. I got all of them. Ireadall of them.”

“Why didn’t you write back?”

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