The Road That Leads to Us (Us 1)

“And sisterhood,” Jeremiah added, hands raised in surrender.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Ollie smacked his hands against the boat in an uneven rhythm. “Daylight is wasting!”

“Here Ollie. Eat a Snickers.” Liam tossed a chocolate bar at Ollie.

Ollie caught it easily and stared at in puzzlement. “Why?”

“Because your normal self is getting on my last God-damn nerve at the moment. Maybe it’ll work some magic on you like those stupid fucking commercials and make you tolerable for the day.”

“It’ll only make me hyper,” Ollie explained, ripping open the paper.

Liam made a grab for the chocolate, but Ollie promptly took a bite. “Too late now.”

Ollie moved over to where Talia sat and the two huddled together, speaking in hushed tones.

“Life jackets.” Jeremiah pointed to where a stack sat. “Put them on. All of you.” He moved his finger to point at Liam. “That means you too.”

“Oh come on!” Liam groaned tossing his hands in the air. “I can swim.”

“My boat. My rules,” Jeremiah said with an easy shrug. “Deal with it or get off.”

Liam grumbled but grabbed one of the life jackets and put it on.

We each put ours on and once Jeremiah was satisfied he started the boat and we headed out into the open ocean.

With the sharks.

Willow

My hair blew in the breeze, tickling my neck. I leaned my head back, my eyes closed, and spread out my arms. Droplets of water flew up from the wake of the boat, hitting against me.

Peace.

That’s what I felt at the moment.

From the way Dean was shaking beside me, I’d say he felt something more akin to terror.

He’d get over it, though, and thank me later for the experience.

The other space beside me on the bench dipped and I glanced over to see that Liam had taken a seat. Dark sunglasses were perched on his nose and he stared off to his right.

Liam was a complex person.

It made him hard to get to know, and even harder to love because you never knew what to expect with him.

It had been hard on all of us—the kids of the Willow Creek band members. The media followed us all closely. Chronicling what we wore, when we messed up, (never when we succeeded), and speculated on what we’d do with our lives.

Mathias, Liam’s dad, was known as the bad boy of the band and for some reason people expected Liam to follow the same path. I knew he hated being compared to his father—not because he didn’t love his dad, because he did, but because the media always made things sound a hundred times worse than it really was.

Growin

g up with famous parents it was impossible to be seen as your own person.

Liam was desperate to prove himself and I knew that was why he pursued surfing so hard. He put in long hours to perfect his sport and be the best. He wanted to be known as Liam Wade the surfer, not the son of Mathias Wade.

“Don’t forget that I’m here for you,” I told him, raising my voice to be heard over the sound of the boat soaring across the water. “I might live far away, but there’s this thing called a phone and you can do this magical thing where you push buttons, and it makes words. You might not have heard it, but it’s called texting. And you can even push some buttons and call someone where you can actually hear their voice.” I faked a gasp. “I know, you’re probably mind-blown right now. I’ll give you a moment to process this profound information.”

Liam glanced at me and cracked a half smile. “I’m good, Willie. I know you don’t think so, but I am.”