I open my phone and text.
Beckett:
I’ll send a car for you. Can you be ready in a half hour?
Liam’s still watching me, so I nod at the bottle.
“Thanks.”
He shrugs and leaves me too. I chug the rest of the bottle and grab my phone. My fingers scroll back to the first message I ever sent Ash.
Chapter nineteen
ASH
Iwatchthecardrive away, then glance up at the house. Estelle would be having kittens if she knew I was doing this. We’d binged a whole true crime doc about an omega trafficking ring, and it started just like this. A lone omega lured to some alpha’s house, then boom, gone. They found her in pieces along Route 66.
I knock twice and wait. I’m doing this regardless.
The neighborhood is nice. All the houses are enormous, all the cars look expensive, and nothing needs a fresh coat of paint. There’s a big SUV in the driveway and a smaller car. A Charger. Reed didn’t have a car, but Pierce did—a beat-up pickup. He always talked about getting a Charger.
The door swings open and my brain seizes.
Liam.
Not as tall as I remembered, but I was twelve when I saw him last. I barely came up to his armpit back then. He was already analpha and twenty-four, just like Reed. He’s not as skinny. He’s probably not hungry all the time now either, like I was, like we all were. He looks older, but tired. And he’s beautiful now. That part stings. I expected him to look different, but not this good. I look over at the Charger again. Would Reed be driving that? Would Reed be good looking too?
“Can I help you?”
“I’m—” I yank the words back into my mouth. I almost called myself Lynn. I don’t remember much about my mom, except for the stories Reed told me. One was about my name. She’d been angry that Papa would only call me by my middle name.
“I’m Ash. Beckett invited me over?” I try and fail to make that not sound like a question.
“Oh. Hey,” he says, swinging the door wider. “Come on in.”
My mouth isn’t working so I just nod. My hands are cold. I’m standing in front of the guy who used to sneak me snacks and stand next to Reed no matter what. No, that’s wrong. He is also the guy who stuck with Pierce. He wasn’t there that night, but that doesn’t mean Liam didn’t also leave Reed bleeding on the living room floor.
“I’m Liam.” He offers me his hand.
I smile tightly, even though my lips feel like they’re trembling. The second our fingers connect, everything wants to rush out.
He drops my hand and jams them into his pockets. The house smells like smoky cinnamon and the laundromat. I want to breathe it in deep, but I’m afraid it’ll make my head spin.
“Beckett’s downstairs,” Liam says and then adds, “We have, like a media room.” Like he knows that’s kind of creepy. “You want anything? Water? Coke?”
I shake my head. His hand grazes my back as he steers me toward the basement stairs, and I don’t flinch at his touch but at the memory.
Me upstairs, hands clamped over my ears, listening to Papa and Reed go at it. Liam paced my bedroom. Then he grabbed his backpack, yanked out his Discman and those fat headphones. He kneeled, fitted them over my head, and showed me the buttons: play, skip, volume. He cranked it up, and suddenly all I heard was screaming guitars and melodic voices, so loud it erased everything else. I clamped my hands over the headphones, and Liam smiled, then left the room. They all had black eyes the next day.
I blink and the memory’s gone. I take the stairs without looking back at Liam.
The basement isn’t creepy at all. It’s warm, with buttery light and carpet so soft I want to roll around on it. There’s a U-shaped sectional sofa bigger than my whole apartment, a wall of bookcases crammed with trophies, game consoles, and battered novels, and workout gear everywhere. Beckett is curled up on the couch, blanket to his chin.
“Hey,” I say. He jumps, then stands.
“Hey,” he echoes. Stepping forward, he gently takes my coat and drapes it over the back of a chair. Then he leans in and kisses me. His lips are soft. I tense and then relax. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“Well, you do owe me cake.” I pause. “And other things.” I whispered the plan over and over in the car on the way here.Get close to Beckett, figure out a way to make them hurt. Guilt settles into my tummy at his blush and goofy smile, but I push it away. “How are you feeling?”
