Chapter 4
Tyler
MY SKULL THROBS TO the rhythm of my heartbeat as consciousness drags me back to reality.
Light cuts through the blinds, forcing me to bury my face into the pillow with a groan.
But it’s not just the hangover—it’s the memories crashing back, playing on a loop behind my eyelids.
Liam’s head thrown back. My hand moving where it shouldn’t have been.
The sounds he tried to swallow. The way his eyes burned into mine afterward, not with shame or confusion, but with pure, undiluted fury.
My stomach twists, and I’m not sure if it’s the hangover or the guilt. Maybe both. I force myself to sit up, ignoring the way the room tilts. Water. I need water. And aspirin. And a fucking time machine.
I stumble to the bathroom, flinching at my reflection. Bloodshot eyes. Hair sticking up at odd angles. The ghost of last night’s poor decisions etched into the shadows under my eyes. I down three aspirin, chase them with tap water, and splash my face. The cold shock helps clear some of the fog.
What the hell was I thinking? We’d been drinking, sure. The bottle of whiskey was nearly empty by the time we’d finished playing. The night had been going well. And then I had to go and ruin it.
I close my eyes, grip the edge of the sink.
Was he too drunk to consent? Did I misread everything?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I need to talk to him. Apologize. Figure out where we go from here.
I pull on yesterday’s jeans and a clean t-shirt, then make my way toward the kitchen. The floorboard outside Liam’s room creaks, betraying my presence, but his door remains shut. I pass it without knocking. The smell of coffee leads me forward. When I reach the kitchen, I pause in the doorway.
Liam stands with his back to me, shoulders tense, one hand gripping a mug like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. He’s wearing sweatpants and a faded NASA t-shirt, hair still damp from a shower.
“Morning,” I manage, voice gravelly.
His shoulders stiffen further. He doesn’t turn around. “There’s coffee.”
I move to the counter, careful to give him space. “Thanks.”
The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. I pour myself a cup, grateful for something to do with my hands. When I turn, Liam has retreated to the far side of the kitchen table, still not meeting my eyes.
I take a breath. “Look, about last night—”
“Let’s just forget it ever happened.” His voice is sharp and final. When he finally looks at me, his bright blue eyes are cold, detached. Not the eyes of the guy who fell apart under my touch last night. Not the eyes of someone I thought, for one stupid moment, might actually want me.
My heart sinks. “Liam, I—”
“I said forget it.” He sets his mug down with enough force that coffee sloshes over the rim. “We were drunk. It was a mistake. End of story.”
I force myself to nod, ignoring the sting of his dismissal. “Yeah. Fine.” I take a sip of coffee, bitter and scalding. “Truce?”
He looks at me skeptically.
“We still have three more days stuck here together,” I point out. “I don’t want to spend them walking on eggshells.”
He doesn’t respond, just takes another sip of his coffee, eyes fixed on some point past my shoulder.
“I need to go into town anyway,” I continue, desperate to fill the silence. “We’re out of food, and I could use some real breakfast. You want to come?”
It’s a peace offering. A way to reset things.
Part of me hopes he’ll say no. Let me escape alone to process the mess I’ve made.
But to my surprise, he nods. “Give me five minutes.”
He disappears back to his room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and cooling coffee. I dump the rest in the sink, not trusting my stomach to handle it.
Ten minutes later, we’re in my car, windows cracked despite the crisp morning air. Liam stares out the passenger window, one knee bouncing. I keep my eyes on the road that leads from the cabin into town, knuckles white on the steering wheel.
The silence chokes me. Usually, I’m fine with quiet. Comfortable in it. But this isn’t comfortable silence—it’s a battlefield where words have been buried like land mines.
“You sleep okay?” I venture, immediately regretting the question.
“Fine.”
I nod, swallow, try again. “Weather’s clearing up.”
A noncommittal grunt is all I get in response.
So that’s how it’s going to be. I give up, flicking on the radio instead. Some pop song I don’t recognize fills the space between us. Liam reaches over and turns it down to barely audible.
The town appears around the bend—a small cluster of shops and restaurants catering to lake tourists and locals alike. I park in front of the grocery store, killing the engine.
“I’ll just grab the essentials,” I say as we walk inside. “Let me know if you want anything specific.”
Liam shrugs, grabs a basket, and heads toward the cereal aisle without waiting for me.
Fine. I snag a cart and go the opposite direction, loading up on bread, eggs, lunch meat, chips, and beer.
Hangover food. Maybe more alcohol isn’t the best idea, but the thought of three more days of sober tension seems unbearable.
I round the corner to find Liam at the checkout, talking to the cashier. She’s pretty—curly red hair pulled back with clips, freckles dusting her nose and cheeks. She’s laughing at something he said, leaning forward in a way that makes her interest obvious.
Liam smiles back at her—actually smiles—and it hits me in the gut. I haven’t seen that smile. Ever. “It’s been nice meeting you, Natalie.”
The way he says her name sends a spike of something hot and unpleasant through my chest. I hang back, watching as she rings him up.
Liam turns, spots me standing there with my cart, and his expression shifts. The smile remains, but it’s different now. Pointed. Deliberate.
Did he know I was looking?
I push my cart forward, nodding to the cashier as Liam steps aside with his bag. She’s less animated with me, scanning my items without the flirtatious glances. I don’t blame her. I’m not making any effort to be charming.
“That’ll be forty-three twenty-seven.”
I hand over my card, hyper-aware of Liam watching from a few feet away.
“You two visiting for long?” she asks, handing me my receipt.
“Just a few more days.”
“Well, enjoy the lake.” Her eyes slide back to Liam, and she gives him a little wave. “See you around, maybe.”
I collect my bags, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. Liam follows me out, and I can feel his smugness radiating from behind me. As we load the groceries into the trunk, I notice him slipping a scrap of paper into his pocket. Her number. Of course.
“Gonna ask her out while we’re here?” I snap, slamming the trunk shut.
Liam shrugs, infuriatingly casual. “Maybe.”
I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood. “Good for you, baby bro.”
He looks at me with narrowed eyes. “What’s your problem?”
“No problem.” I unlock the car. “Just making conversation.”
We climb in, and I start the engine with more force than necessary. A thought occurs to me—petty, childish, but too tempting to resist.
“Actually, can we swing by that coffee shop on Main before heading back?”
Liam gives me a strange look, but shrugs. “Whatever.”
The coffee shop is only a few blocks away. We walk in, and the bell above the door announces our arrival. The smiley barista with the man-bun looks up from the espresso machine and his face brightens with recognition.
“Hey, you came back,” he says, eyes sliding from me to Liam and back again. “Coffee, black, large, right?” He smirks, quoting me.
I nod. “And whatever he wants,” I add, gesturing to Liam.
“I’ll have a latte,” Liam says flatly. Of course he drinks lattes.
The barista nods, setting to work. “You guys enjoying your stay at the lake?”
“It has its moments,” I reply, leaning against the counter. “Weather could be better.”
“Yeah, but rainy days have their advantages.” He winks as he steams milk for Liam’s drink. “Forces you to find…indoor activities.”
The innuendo isn’t subtle. I laugh, feeling Liam’s eyes boring into my back.
“I’m Nick, by the way,” he says, nodding at his name tag and extending a hand across the counter.
“Tyler,” I reply, shaking it. “And this is Liam.”
Nick nods at Liam, who returns the gesture stiffly.
“So, you guys up here for vacation?” Nick asks, sliding Liam’s coffee towards him.
“Sort of a forced family bonding thing,” I explain, accepting my cup.
“Oh!” Nick’s eyebrows rise. “So you’re brothers?”
“Stepbrothers,” I clarify.
“I see. I guess that’s why you don’t look alike.” Nick flashes a sheepish grin. “I thought maybe you were, you know…together.”
Liam chokes on the latte.
“No, no, no,” I say quickly. “Definitely not together.” I stifle the urge to pat Liam on the back as he coughs. I shouldn’t care about the dickhead.
“Huh,” Nick says, looking between us with new interest.
Next to me, Liam has stopped coughing, but he’s now glaring at Nick.
I take a long sip of my drink, grateful for the distraction. “This is really good.”
“Thanks,” Nick gives me another bright smile. “So, Tyler, how long are you here for?”
The emphasis on my name, the subtle exclusion of Liam from the question—it’s no accident.
“We’re heading back Sunday.”
“Shame,” Nick says. “But I’m off tomorrow if you wanted to check out some local spots. There’s more to do around here than most tourists realize.”
I have to bite down on my lower lip to stifle my triumphant grin.
Now, I’ve never been interested in guys before.
Correction, I’ve never been interested in any guy, except for my infuriating stepbrother, for some bizarre reason.
But it feels nice to have Nick’s attention on me.
Liam is seething next to me, and it feels good to give him a taste of his own medicine.
Before I can respond, Liam sets his mug down. “We should go. The ice cream will melt.”
I blink at him. “I didn’t buy ice cream. Did you?”
Liam stares at me, jaw clenched. “I’m going to wait in the car.”
He stalks out, the bell jingling in his wake.
Nick raises an eyebrow but says nothing.
I sigh, finishing my coffee in a few quick gulps. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries.” Nick pulls out a napkin, scribbles something on it, and slides it across the counter. “My number. In case you do have some free time tomorrow.”
I hesitate, then take it. “Thanks. I’ll see.”
“No pressure,” he says with another amiable smile. “But the offer stands.”
I tuck the napkin into my pocket and head out to where Liam waits in the passenger seat of my car, arms crossed over his chest. I climb in and start the engine, waiting for the explosion I know is coming.
I don’t have to wait long.
“You took me there just to flirt with him in front of me?” Liam snaps as soon as we pull away from the curb.
I grip the steering wheel tighter. “I wanted coffee.”
“Bullshit. There was coffee at the cabin.”
“That sludge you made? Barely.”
“So it had nothing to do with making sure I saw you and barista boy making heart eyes at each other?” Liam’s voice rises with each word.
I can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes me. “Why would you care? You were all over Natalie five minutes into the store.”
“That was different.”
“How? How exactly was that different?”
Liam turns to face the window again. “Just…drive.”
For once, I do as he says and steer the car toward the lake house. The rest of the drive passes in hostile silence, both of us rigid in our seats, gazes fixed ahead.
When we reach the cabin, Liam gets out before I’ve even put the car in park. He grabs his grocery bag from the trunk and stalks inside without a backward glance. The door to his room slams moments later.
I take my time bringing in the remainder of the groceries, putting everything away.
My hands shake, I don’t know why. I keep replaying everything—the way Liam’s eyes lit up when he smiled at Natalie.
The look on his face when he watched Nick flirt with me.
The way his body responded to my touch last night.
My pocket feels heavy with Nick’s number. Maybe I should call him. It would be a perfect excuse to escape the suffocating tension. To be around someone who wants my company.
But I don’t. I stand in the kitchen, fists clenched at my sides, heart racing.
What am I doing? What do I even want? Liam made it clear that last night was a mistake.
A drunken error in judgment we should both forget.
So why does the thought of him with Natalie make me want to put my fist through a wall?
I retreat to my room, shutting the door behind me.
The bed creaks as I collapse onto it, staring at the ceiling.
Three more days. Just three more days, and then we go back to our regular lives.
Back to barely seeing each other except at forced family dinners.
Back to pretending we’re nothing more than reluctant, distant relations thrown together by someone else’s choice.
The thought should be a relief. Instead, it sits like lead in my stomach.