Page 56 of Liam

My eyes drift shut, the memories forming, then fading. “Of course.”

“Anyway,” Tom says, and I open my eyes again. He’s looking down at his lap, at his hands as he rubs them together. “I wanted to apologize to you… if what we did—Liam and me—hurt you more than you were already hurting. Roman tells me that your foster parents?—”

“They’re great.”

“That’s what he says.” Our eyes meet again. “If you need anything…”

I nod, the ache in my chest slowly abating.

Tom stands, starts making his way down again. I wait until he’s reached the bottom to call out, “Mr. Preston?”

He turns to me. “Tom, please.”

“I don’t blame you… or Liam…” I tell him, and as soon as the words leave my mouth, I know them to be true. For years, Ineededsomeone to blame, and Liam was an easy target. But the real blame lies with two people who walked away and never looked back. I’ve never heard from them again. I don’t know where they are—or evenwhothey are.

“That’s good, Addie.” Tom’s shoulders drop with his heavy exhale, almost as if he’d been carrying that weight for years. He nods slowly, like he’s assuring himself. “That’s real good.”

I keep my eyes on the space he occupied long after he’s gone. Just when I’ve started accepting the peace that settles in my heart, a throat clearing has me sitting upright.

Lincoln’s at the top of the stairs, his eyes narrowed as he stares down at me. And Lincoln’s eyes—they’re nothing at all like his twin’s…

His strides are slow as he makes his way down, stopping two steps above me. He slumps into a sitting position, his body facing me, but his focus on the framed photos. “You know which one he is?”

I know what he’s asking, but the irate tone in which he says it has me confused. “What?”

“Liam,” he explains. “Do you know which one he is?”

I nod slowly, look away from him, and drop my gaze to my lap. “Where did he go tonight?”

“He’s staying at Mia’s.”

My pulse spikes, and I attempt to settle it. It’s the second time I’ve heard that name. The first time was during Liam’s call with Lachlan right before we picked him up. Whoever Mia is, she must be important to Liam. “Who’s Mia?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer, and I chance a peek over at him. He doesn’t even bother to hide the way he’s glaring at me, head cocked to the side, and I don’t know where this hostility is coming from. I’ve spoken to Lincoln plenty since I started working for his dad. Every conversation has been easy. Casual. Fun, almost. This isnotthat.

“Back in third grade,” he finally says, breaking the silence. “We used to play baseball with a bunch of older kids during lunch. You remember that?”

He waits for me to say something,anything.I don’t.

“Anyway, this one time, I was at shortstop and Liam was somewhere in the outfield, and thishugefifth grader, Owen, came up to bat. We were always afraid of him, just based on hissize alone. Pitcher pitched, and Owen swung, and the bat wentflying…straight for me. I panicked and cowered, but… it never came.” He pauses a breath. “Liam—I don’t even know how he got to me so fast—but he threw his arm out and blocked it. Broke his arm pretty bad. Had to be in a cast for two months…”

Where does it hurt?

I breathe through the ache, through the pain of the memories flooding my mind.

I hope you feel better, Addie.

“The point is…” Lincoln says, and I blink back my emotions as I flick my eyes to his. “Liam protected me then… and I swore to protect him ever since.” He stands, but doesn’t move right away. “You noticed it, too, huh?”

I swallow the misery caught in my throat. “Noticed what?”

He jerks his head toward the pictures. “He stopped smiling at ten… right around the time he becameTwincest.”

Liam

My nephew’s jumping on his bed, nowhere near ready to sleep, and I’m laughing with him—no doubt failing at this whole bedtime routine thing.

Mia opens his door, and we both flop on his bed, pretend to be sleeping, loud snores and all. After a moment, the door closes again.

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