Page 87 of Liam

He’s merely my ride.

The golf course’s parking lot is filled with luxury cars, which makes it easy to spot Wyatt’s beat-up truck. I don’t say a word as I push open the door before Roman’s even put his truck in park. I march toward the entrance, my mind spinning with all the words I need to say. I try to place them in order, one after the other, so I don’t?—

“Addie,” Roman calls out, pulling on my arm to stop me.

I spin to him, my heart hammering against my rib cage. It’s been that way since I saw Liam step out of the cabin. Hasn’t settled since. Hasn’t even waned. Not in the slightest.

Roman’s still grasping my arm when he asks, “I don’t need to know the details. I just need you to be honest. Are you and Wyatt about to get into it?”

I jerk my head toward his truck. “You can wait for me. I won’t be long.”

Roman sighs, his eyes searching mine. Then he removes his work shirt, revealing the plain gray T-shirt underneath.

“I don’t expect you to fight him, Roman. Jesus.”

He shakes his head, walking backward to the truck, shirt in hand. “Ifit gets to that point”—he lifts his balled-up work shirt—“I don’t want to be representing the Prestons.”

Wyatt’s standing by a display of golf clubs at the course’s shop when I enter. He’s in a crinkled white dress shirt and crooked black tie, and he smiles when he sees me. That smile falters more and more as I close the distance.

I disregard the older gentleman he’s serving, ignoring the waft of expensive cologne emitting from him, and glare at Wyatt. “Did you leave Liam a note in his locker in middle school?”

Wyatt motions to his customer with his eyes alone. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

Like I could give fewer fucks. “Just answer me.”

“Excuse me,” he tells the man, plastering on a smile before grasping my elbow and dragging me off to the side. He catches Roman waiting by the door but doesn’t say shit about it. “What thefuck,Addie?”

“Just answer me!” The loudness of my voice doesn’t surprise me, but it sure as hell does him.

His brow lowers, eyes thinned to slits, and I can see his mind working, trying to recall. “Yes,” he says, shrugging as if it’s no big deal. “I’d forgotten all about it until now.”

I shove his shoulder.Hard.And he falls back a step. “Why would you do that?” I cry, try to shove him again.

He grasps my wrist, pushes it away. “What’swrongwith you?” he has the audacity to ask. “Do you forget…you’rethe one who started all this! What did you think would happen?”

My throat closes in, blocking my response.

“You want to act all high and indignant now that you’ve gotten close to him, but you didn’t do shit back then!”

“You ruined his life, Wyatt!”

“Me?” he scoffs, his eyes dancing with amusement, and it only stokes the flames of fury burning inside me.

“Fuck you!” I spit, turning toward the door so he doesn’t see my tears.

“No, fuck you, Addie!” he calls after me. I turn to him, ready for more, but he gets in first. “If you want someone to blame for the way he was treated, look in the mirror!”

I charge at him, but strong arms wrap around my middle, stopping me. “That’s enough,” Roman says, his tone a sense of calm amid the storm. He practically carries me all the way back to his truck, my arms and legs kicking wildly at nothing in front of me. Nothing but my shame that surrounds me, cowers over and around me—a ghost of my past, relentless and haunting.

I wait until Roman’s rounded the truck and behind the wheel before grabbing the baseball bat he keeps under the passenger seat. Then I open the door and run…

The last thing I remember is Roman’s words. “Shit, Addie.Don’t!”

32

Liam

When I was younger, my favorite part of the day was just as it was beginning to end, hence why I’d always choose that time to ride around and just… be alone. I think a part of me was relieved that I simply made it through another day. I’d come back home when the fear would kick in—that a new tomorrow was just around the corner.

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