Tell Me It’s Right (Sweetspire #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

LIAM

I need to get out of the truck. I’ve been sitting here for a good ten minutes now.

The typical sea of designer suits and dresses brushes past me toward the monstrosity of a home ahead. Even the gifts they carry are overly polished in a way that should be wildly out of place for a six-year-old’s birthday party. All polka dots and ribbons and shiny gold wrapping paper.

The house itself looks like a catalog ad for a party store. Streamers, lights, and balloons are spilling out the doors, windows, and over the sides of the balconies. But there’s a method to the chaos—every glittery decoration hung just so.

I glance at the bag in my passenger seat. Neon green tissue paper and a cartoon car with a missing tooth.

“Liam!” A fist pounds against my window, and I lurch back. Miles’s dorky smile stretches across his face—all freckles and dimples—as he presses his nose against the glass. “Didn’t think we’d be seeing you here.”

“Get off my truck.”

There’s an imprint left behind as he shrugs and pulls away. He has to be, what? Twenty-three by now? But I swear he doesn’t look any different than he did at fourteen. Must be the baby face. Or the too-short pants that show off his chicken ankles.

Why he and my brother Asher are still friends is beyond me. I’d been hoping it would fizzle out after high school. I might be only three years older, but their debauchery threatens to put me in an early grave.

Finally, I force myself to open the door and climb out.

Miles takes off at a jog, triple-checking the pockets of his khakis as he goes. A tick of his I’m all too familiar with. I give it half an hour before someone busts him and Ash with a joint in the bathroom.

The gift bag crinkles as I tighten my fist around the handle and start the winding trek up the drive. There were spots closer, but I didn’t want to risk getting blocked in and forced to stay here longer than necessary.

I try to deduce a theme as I follow the music and chatter through the house—everyone must be gathered in the backyard—but the place looks the same as always, just with added glitter and balloon arches lining the dual curved staircases at the entrance.

I guess the walls look different these days. But Christine’s been slowly swapping out the art pieces since the day she moved in. Give her another few years and there won’t be any trace of my mother left in the house at all.

“Liam!”

Ah, just who I wanted to see.

Christine skitters around the corner, looking like she’s about to break an ankle in those shoes. They’re as gold and shiny as everything else in here. Her dress is skintight and red, white, and blue, topped off with an American flag scarf knotted around her throat.

“You’re just in time!” she squeals, and it’s too late now, because she’s barreling toward me with her arms spread wide. “The games are about to begin!”

Games? I peek around her at the open French doors moments before she yanks me into a hug. For such a small woman, she certainly knows how to knock the air straight out of you. Small stations are situated around the pool—a net, a Ping-Pong table, some kind of makeshift track.

An Olympics theme then.

I pat her on the back a few times until she releases me, and her eyes go comically wide as she takes in the bag I’m holding.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!”

As if I’d show up to my own brother’s birthday without a gift.

She beams as I offer it to her.

“Where is Casey?”

“All the kids are out back! I was about to go check on the cake. They were putting some finishing touches on it earlier.”

“Liam! You’re here!”

Casey sprints down the hall, his little arms pumping at his sides. His swimming trunks are green, white, and red, and he has the same colors painted across his cheeks. I kneel as he lunges in for a hug, then ruffle his hair as he pulls away.

“Since when are you Italian?” I ask.

“Each of the kids picked a different country,” Christine explains.

I resist the urge to ask why she’s dressed like the Fourth of July then.

“Is that for me?” He points at the bag in his mom’s hands.

“Uh, are you the birthday boy? Or is there someone else turning six around here that I don’t know about?”

“Just me! Mom, can I open it now?”

Christine gives him an annoyed look, but she’s smiling. “We talked about this. We’ll open presents after the cake.”

“Just Liam’s, though! Please .”

She glances at me sideways, and I shrug. “I don’t mind.”

With a drawn-out sigh, she hands over the bag. Casey immediately rips the tissue paper out, but he’s gentle as he removes the wrapped package.

“What is it?” he asks as he turns it over in his tiny hands.

“That would be the point of opening it,” I say. “To find out.”

He sticks his tongue out at me, then rips the wrapping paper off. I can feel his mom watching me, but I pointedly ignore her as Casey inspects the gift.

The sketchbook itself is plain—black cover, spiral binding—but as soon as Casey flips to the first page, his face lights up, and I exhale my relief.

Every few pages is a different drawing, broken down step by step as simple as I could make it. The biggest gamble was choosing which superheroes and characters to do, seeing as Casey’s interests change on an hourly basis.

His head pops up like the best idea ever just occurred to him. “If I get as good as you, can I draw your next one?” He points at the tattoos on my arm.

Christine scoffs, then covers it up with a laugh. “Casey…”

“Absolutely,” I say, meaning it. Can’t be any worse than my first few.

His little nose scrunches up. “Can I watch you do it? Or does it get all bloody?”

I chuckle, knowing full well he wouldn’t make it that far. Poor kid passes out just seeing the needle for a shot at the doctor’s. “Not always.”

“You should get back to your friends, don’t you think?” Christine smiles and leans down to nudge Casey. “Don’t want them to think you’re ignoring them.”

“Liam, are you gonna watch me compete? I’m gonna dominate .”

I quirk an eyebrow at the fancy vocabulary, even if he has trouble pronouncing it. “Of course! It’s the whole reason I’m here.”

He grins, exposing a missing tooth I hadn’t noticed before. “It’s gonna be awesome!” Then he pivots and sprints the way he came—the only speed he has these days, really.

“Thank you for coming,” says Christine. “Really. I know things have been…tense, but it means so much to Casey. Especially since Taylor can’t make it. And God only knows where Asher is.” She gently tucks Casey’s book in the bag. “And this was really thoughtful.”

She says that like I’m the responsible brother now. My, how the tables have turned. I clear my throat and avoid whatever meaningful look she’s giving me.

She’s trying. I know. I can’t fault her for it. But I’m also not interested in some woman who’s barely five years older than me trying to act like a parental figure just because she’s Casey’s mom.

“Wouldn’t miss it. Have you seen Leo? I think he said he’s already here.”

“Oh.” She frowns. “I haven’t. But he might be out back!”

I smile and step around her, knowing very well Leo is not coming today, but it does the trick. She waves and heads off for the kitchen, effectively ending the conversation. Though today would definitely be easier if Leo could come. I don’t know what it says about me that my best friend has always been better at dealing with my family than I am.

But he’s got his own family stuff this weekend, what with his sister moving in. I still can’t fucking believe they decided that was a good idea. Gracie and Leo under the same roof again? I give it two weeks before one of them kills the other. And my money’s on Gracie.

I make it two steps onto the patio before I catch sight of my dad across the pool, which is almost enough to make me spin on my heel. A herd of screaming children rushes past me, followed by some woman telling them not to run, and that’s when I notice who my father is standing next to.

The internal groan vibrates through every cell of my body.

The girl smiles along politely to whatever my dad is telling her while she sips a glass of champagne. Looks like one of the Hastings daughters. Like most of the adults, she’s dressed like she’s ready for the country club instead of a kid’s birthday party.

If he’s doing what I think he’s doing…

As if sensing my thoughts, he looks up, meets my eyes, and smiles. Nothing about it is warm. He gestures for me to join them.

Yeah…absolutely the fuck not. He can play matchmaker with one of his many other kids. I pretend not to see him and slip back inside.

I’ve been in this house all of ten minutes and it already feels like ten minutes too long. The perks, I guess, of growing up here—at least I know all the right places to hide.

I swipe a beer out of a cooler before heading to the second floor. It’s quieter, the music and voices drifting up muffled. I fish my phone from my pocket once I hit the bay window that overlooks the pool and pull up my texts with Leo.

Liam: You suck

Leo: That bad already?

Liam: I think my dad’s arranging my engagement

Liam: And Christine is campaigning for teen mom of the year

Leo: Ah, the Candyman never rests

Leo: Oh come on. Christine’s nice

Liam: Too nice

Leo: Did Casey open the present yet

Liam: Yeah

Leo: And he loved it, didn’t he?

Liam: Stop trying to make me feel better

Leo: Right

Leo: You’re a disappointment to the whole family

Leo: You have bad taste in music

Leo: And you really fucking need a haircut jesus christ

Liam: thank you