Page 47 of Liam

Lincoln laughs, but it’s more of a scoff. I turn my gaze to his, questioning, but he just shakes his head, turns away.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing.” He glances out the windshield, and I go back to making sure all our equipment is charged. “Bryson says we need to pivot.” Bryson is our agent, who I’ve met—in person—a total of zero times. “Maybe move to white label products.”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“Like physical products, candy or whatever… and we slap our brand?—”

Internally, I groan. Externally, I say, “That sounds like a hell of a lot of extra work… promoting it or whatever.”

“So that’s a no?”

I shrug.

Linc sighs, slumping down in his seat. “What’s the deal with you and Addie?”

My pulse jumps at the mention of her. Not that I haven’t stopped thinking about her. Or that hug. “What do you mean?”

“You guys were standing pretty close when I walked in earlier.”

“We were?” Wedefinitelywere. I was just hoping he wouldn’t notice, and if he did, he wouldn’t bring it up. When we were as close as we were, I was stunned silent by her beauty, and I realized then that maybe that beauty is part of the reason I spent years hating her. Because I expected her tobeoracta certain way, purely based on her appearance. Or my attraction to her. My expectations. Which is dumb, because I didn’t even know her. Not really. And I sure as hell didn’t know about the trauma and conflicts that raged wars inside her.

I’ve never had this visceralitchbefore. The one that makes you want to be around a person just to be around them. It seems, even when that itchisscratched, it only deepens the need for more scratches.What the hell am I even saying?This is what being around Addie has done to me—turned me into a mess.

“Are you guys getting close or…?”

I stop from reaching into my pocket and pulling out the baseball fidget clicker. I’m used to getting interrogated by Linc, but not like this. And not when I can tell there’s an underlying meaning beneath it all. I wish he’d just get to the point. “I mean, we’re forced to be in that tiny cabin together for hours at a time, so it’s kind of inevitable that we’d at least talk.” Lincoln doesn’t respond, and so I face him, prod for more. “Just say it.”

“Say what?” he asks.

I heave out a sigh. I wish he was more like Addie—just says what’s on his mind. In fact, I wishIwas more like Addie. “Whatever you’re thinking. Just say it.”

“Just be careful, okay?”

Suddenly, I’m defensive, and I don’t know why. “Careful withwhat, exactly?”

He shrugs. “Last I checked, she was still friends with Helmet.”

At the mention of Helmet, my gaze lowers and whatever resolve I had turns to dust.

“Sorry,” he says quickly.

“It’s fine,” I return, but it’s not. Not really. I’d been living in an alternate reality where my mind made up a world that was just Addie and Addie alone—no outside forces.Stupid.

“Just forget I said anything, all right?”

I nod, open the car door.

He wants me to forget it? Sure. But the truth is, I worry that being around Addie is making me forgettoomuch.

19

Addie

It took a while, but I finally found my place with Roman again. Not just emotionally, but physically, too. I’ve become fond of the sliver of floor space between the couch and coffee table, and most evenings, he sits on the couch; I sit on the floor, and we eat dinner together while I force him to watch a show about over-dramatized young adults consistently making horrible life choices. I only know of it because the girls in the team group chat tell me Ineedto watch it. That I’llliterallydie if I don’t.

I don’t know if I actually enjoy the show or if I enjoy the little noises Roman makes whenever he gets annoyed by a character’s aforementioned horrible choices, but still—he hasn’taskedto stop. In fact, most of the time, he’s the one who cues it up and hits play.

---