Page 9 of Liam

“Wow…” I bite back a guffaw, becausewhat? I’d forgotten about that stupid nickname. Clearly, he hasn’t. “You really held on to that one, didn’t you?”

Crossing his arms, he tilts his chin, looking down his nose at me when he declares, “You know how easy it would be to get you fired?”

My immediate thought is, “What the fuck?” and I say it out loud.

“Just stay the fuck out of my way, and we won’t have a problem.”

“Trust me. I have no plans to be anywhere near you.” I push past him and stomp down the porch steps. “Fucking asshole.”

Liam laughs, short and humorless.“You know, I always wondered if you had it in you. That dog you kept on a short leash always did your barking for you.”

I spin to him, my confusion mixed with ragebarelycontained. “What?”

“Your boy,Helmet.”

Liam was calledTwincestas much as Wyatt was calledHelmet. The difference? Wyatt didn’t let a name wound him. Liam clearly has. “Funny,” I muse, just as Roman pulls into the driveway. “I could say the same about Lincoln with you. Where is he, anyway? Off somewhere fighting another one of your battles?”

Liam’s jaw tightens, clearly struck by my words, and it’s obvious he wants to retort, but he doesn’t. He simply looks over at Roman, fakes a smile and a wave, and then enters the cabin without another word spoken.

I inhale one full breath, and then another, before taking the few steps to Roman’s truck. The second I open the door, I freeze.

On the passenger’s seat is my backpack—the one the cop stole from me.

I look up at Roman, who gives nothing away. He simply shifts the backpack from the seat to the floorboard. “Strangest thing…” he starts, and I sit my ass in his truck, already preparing for the worst.

4

Addie

There’s a certain guilt that comes with being saved, especially when it’s happened multiple times by multiple people. While some might look at the whole of my life and consider me lucky, I can’t push past the reasons why I needed saving in the first place.

I think Dayna picked up on this early in my placement, because she booked me in to see a therapist to explore my “feelings.” Whatever that meant. I was fourteen—an awkward age for anyone—and my life had just gone to shit. I went from a small town to a bustling city, moved into an unfamiliar home, and thrown into a school where I knew a total of zero people, all while fearing the absolute worst for the only family I had left—my brother.

Yeah, I hadfeelings.

And no, I wasn’t all that ready to “explore” them.

Thankfully, my therapist was an idiot who didn’t ask questions about my current or past situations. He merely asked, “What do you think life is?”

What a heavy-handed question to ask a fourteen-year-old.

I left the appointment and kindly asked Dayna to never bring me back.

What do I think life is?Pathetic.

I waited until I was eighteen, graduated high school, and finally felt convinced Dayna and Griffin genuinely wanted me around beyond their obligation to tell Dayna about that one therapy session.

It was summer, and we didn’t have any placements, so the house was empty. Quiet. We sat on the back steps leading up to the house, watching Griffin doing yard work. She had a glass of wine in one hand, a fidget clicker in the other, and she stared ahead, contemplating what I’d just told her. “A scavenger hunt,” she finally said.

“A scavenger hunt?” I repeated.

She nodded, her blond hair shifting with the slight breeze as she turned her eyes to mine. “Life is a scavenger hunt, Addie,” she declared. “But all the items are puzzle pieces, and the list is never ending.”

It’s kind of crazy—how one simple concept can change your entire outlook. Like most people, I used to over-analyze thewhyof any occurrences that didn’t make sense. Now, I know to wait. Or, at least, I try to. Because I have to believe there’s a bigger picture waiting to be revealed, otherwise…

I don’t know.

I’d hate to think of my existence as just broken up events that lead to nowhere.

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