Prologue

Liam - Age 14

The cushion flies at my head so fast, I don’t have time to respond.
“Knock it off,” Lincoln snaps. “You’re making me anxious.”
“Bro’s literally just sitting there,” my younger brother, Lachlan, says, his gaze switching from Linc to me.
I take the cushion from my lap and place it beside me on the couch, then shrug. It’s really all I can do in this situation, but he’s right. Linc was scrolling on his phone, and Lachy was watching whatever’s on the television, and I... I was just sitting here, doing absolutely nothing. I hadn’t shown any outward signs of anxiety, even though my mind was filled with it. That’s the thing about Lincoln, though—he reads me better than anyone. Some people think it’s that twin telepathy bullshit. Too bad for me, it only seems to work one way. I’ve never been able to predict what Lincoln is thinking, let alone feeling. Maybe I don’t try hard enough. Or maybe he doesn’t give me time to figure it out before he makes it known to everyone around him.
Without a word, I get up and exit the house through the front door. The sun’s just beginning to dip now, turning the world that shade of orange that makes everything look better than it truly is. I’ve just made it down the porch steps when the door opens behind me. “Son.”
I turn to my dad, standing in the open doorway. I’d hate to calculate how many times in his life he’s used that single word. Six sons, one daughter, and come to think of it, I’ve never heard him refer to my sister, Lucy, as just “daughter.”
For as long as I can remember, the dynamic between the Preston kids had always been the same. Lucy’s the oldest and only girl, so she’s kind of always led the charge. Then there are the older boys: Lucas, Leo and Logan. There’s a three-year difference between Lucas and Logan, the same amount of years between Logan and us, but it’s enough of a difference to seem to separate us. The three older Preston boys are in one world, and we’re in another. Then there’s Lachlan, the “baby,” who’s three years younger than us, and he’s in a world all on his own.
Dad motions to the detached garage twenty yards away. “You going for a ride?”
Nodding, I tell him, “I’ll probably take one of the ATVs.” Not that he needs to know that information or would really care either way, but sometimes I feel like I need to speak just for the sake of speaking.
“Okay,” he says, returning my nod. “Don’t be out too late. You have school tomorrow.”
As if I needed the reminder. Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t read me the way Lincoln does, because if he did, he’d know that school is the sole reason for the level of unease currently creeping through my veins. Not just school, but high school. 
Linc has referred to this impending moment in our lives as a fresh start. A reset, if you will. Personally, I just see it as a bigger campus with a lot more people. New people. People who can hear one lie about me and join in on continuing to make my life a living hell.
Fun.
Dad watches me, his eyes narrowed slightly, set on mine, as if doing so will allow him to crawl into my brain and pick apart the pieces. “Are you ready?”
Define ready, I want to say. Instead, I offer another nod and a mumbled lie. “Yeah, I’m good.” He wasn’t in the living room with the rest of us before, so I assume he was in his office. I add, because again, I feel like I need to say something, “You work too much.”
Dad stands taller at my words. “You think?”
I shrug.
He entertains my musings. “Maybe I’ll retire soon.”
“Nah,” I say, glancing toward the garage. I need to leave. And soon. “You’ll get bored too easily.”
“That’s... true.”
I face him again and force a smile. “I won’t be out too late.” Then I head toward the garage, not once looking back.
The garage is filled with what my dad refers to as Big Boy Toys: ATVs, dirt bikes, golf carts—none of them belonging to any one person. With three older brothers, these “toys” seem to have spawned out of nowhere and have accumulated over time. I hop on the nearest ATV, the keys already in the ignition, and bring it to life. By the time I pass the house, Dad’s already back inside.
***
When I was younger, I thought the best thing about living on a hundred-plus acres was that there was always somewhere to play. Now, the best thing is that there’s always somewhere to hide.
The problem?
I’m not the only one who likes to hide out here.
I keep that in mind as I ride the same tracks created by my brothers before me—tracks that wind through tall trees and short brush, over large roots and fallen branches, then into the vast opening by the lake. My eyes remain open the entire time, searching for any signs of her.
It was around the same time—almost four years ago—when I was riding around on a bike and stumbled across her. She was alone, on a phone, sitting against the old VW bus left here by my sister’s husband. Its initial purpose was a fort for Lachlan, back when he was still a toddler. He’s ten now. It had been years since anyone had used it, so I don’t really know what compelled me to check on it that night, but I’ve regretted it ever since.
She was hiding—from who or what, I have no idea. All I know is that she told me—no, warned me—not to tell anyone. Right before she ran away.
I stood in shock for a few minutes, then gathered my thoughts and looked around. It was obvious by the amount of junk food wrappers littered around that Adelaide Baker either loved sugary treats, or... it wasn’t the first time she’d been there. 
I hate that I can’t look at a Starburst without thinking of her, or that night, or the days, months, years of hell that followed.
Now, I wait until it’s dark—like I do most nights—then take the familiar track toward the VW bus my family refers to as “Filmore.” The first thing I do when I hop off the ATV is search the ground for any new wrappers. Some nights I find them. Most nights I don’t. Tonight, there’s nothing.
I haven’t caught her here again since that first time, and honestly, I don’t know what I’d do if I did. Maybe that’s why I switched to a dirt bike or ATV… so she would hear me coming. Give her a chance to flee. I don’t actually want to confront her. I just don’t want her here. Or anywhere near me.
With only the headlights of the ATV lighting the space and the quiet rumble of its engine to keep me company, I clear a spot on the dirt ground next to Filmore and sit with my back against its aged metal frame. Then I crane my neck to look above. There’s not much to see from my spot—leaves mainly, with the night sky filtering through the gaps. But, it seems to be enough to settle the unease that had been pulsing through me the past few days. It’s strange… The only time I feel safe alone is within the boundaries of my home, even when it’s dark out. It seems fitting, I guess. I’ve always liked the world best when the sun has taken light with it. My dad says I got it from my mother. That she was the same way. I have no choice but to take his word for it, considering I never got the chance to know her. 
I’ve barely settled in when a loud bang gets my attention, followed by yelling. I sit taller, already fully aware of my surroundings. The yelling gets louder, additional voices, and I stand quickly, straining to hear where it’s coming from. It’s definitely not from my house; I know that much. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I jump back on my ATV and head toward the commotion. It doesn’t take long to find the source. There are only a few properties that back up against our land, the nearest being a group of rundown trailer homes. Through the chain-link fence, I can see the flashing red and blue lights, and I make my way closer, but not too close, stopping the ATV a good thirty yards away. There are multiple squad cars parked, all lights, no sirens, and they’re all focused on a house on the rear of the block, the one closest to me. 
Movement at the fence line steals my attention, and I freeze the moment she comes into view, squeezing through a gap in the chain link I hadn’t known was there.
Adelaide had always been an enigma to me, but never more so than at this moment. She runs toward me, her forever braid hitting her back with every step. It’s too dark to make out the color of the ribbon that weaves through the strands, but I know it’s there. It always is. 
“Liam!” she calls out, her eyes wide as she nears.
It takes a moment for my sense to kick in, and I narrow my stare, let reality set ablaze the internal confusion. Not at the situation—at the two cops chasing after her, their silhouettes created by the flashing lights behind them. Not at the question of where she’s coming from or why she’s running at all. No. All of that takes a back seat to the way she just said my name. 
Liam. 
Not the usual names she refers to me by: Twimp, or everyone’s favorite, Twincest.  
“Liam, help!” she huffs, out of breath. She’s so close now I can almost make out the fear in her eyes. “Take me with you!” 
I almost give in to her. 
Almost.
But then I remember…
She’s the reason I get called those names. She’s the reason for the perpetual anxiety of waking up and going to school every day. 
“Please,” she begs, stopping only feet away from me.
She’s the reason for the black eyes and bruised ribs and the constant fucking fear of being out alone.
“Liam…”
I rev the engine, shake my head. “Fuck you, Addie.” And then I leave her there, alone, like she once forced me to do. 
And I never look back. 
Not once.