Page 44 of Falling for my Brother's Best Friend

I shake my head. “No.” I school my anxious tone. “I turned down the volume and forgot.”

He puts on the classic rock station my father listened to when he was doing yard work or out in the garage. It brings a sad smile to my face.

“What made you enjoy this type of music?” I ask, at a loss for what else to say.

His knee bounces to the beat of “Sweet Home Alabama” by Lynyrd Skynyrd. “You really wanna know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

He nods with a touché expression. “Your dad. When all you guys told him it sucked, I kind of enjoyed the beat, the lyrics. They wrote about things that affected them back then. Things they lived through. Take this song. It makes me wish I was from Alabama because you can hear their love for their state.”

I laugh.

“Take a right here.” He points in the direction he wants me to go.

We’re leaving Lake Starlight. As we pass the goodbye sign, I release a pent-up breath it feels like I’ve been holding since last night.

“Funny, since the boys never found a liking for it,” I say.

“I think they each kind of like it but are afraid to admit it after giving your dad so much shit. I found Rome listening to Robert Plant once at the restaurant.”

“I’m ashamed to admit I never listen to this music anymore. Classic rock tends to depress me.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” He moves to hit the button, but I rest my hand on his.

“No. It’s okay. It kinda works for me tonight.”

I feel his eyes on the side of my head while I drive. “I’m sorry, Savannah. I never should’ve said what I did.”

The sincerity in his tone now hasn’t been there for weeks. Somewhere in all this, we’ve both changed, and not for the better.

“It’s okay. There’s truth to what you said.”

“Well, it was a shitty thing to say either way.”

I huff out a laugh because whereas some guys would argue or take back their words entirely, Liam doesn’t. Because he doesn’t believe them to be untrue. He’s just apologizing for vocalizing them the way and where he did.

“Yeah.”

“Take another right here. Pull in.”

I take in the restaurant on the other side of the parking lot, Carol’s Crabby Shack. “You want some crab?”

“Ready to get messy?” He opens the passenger door, one foot hanging out as he waits to see if I’ll agree.

“We’ll never get in. It’s Sunday night.” The parking lot is packed with trucks and I can hear the live music from out here.

“I’ll get us in. Trust me.” He winks, and my stomach somersaults. Stupid involuntary reflexes.

When I still don’t move, he turns the keys in the ignition and snatches them.

“Hey!”

“You’ll get them back after dinner. Let’s go have some fun.”

He steps out of my SUV and shuts the door. Waiting in front of my car, he doesn’t even turn to look at me.

My stomach growls. “This is one time I’m going to let him think he’s getting his way,” I mumble to myself before opening my door and meeting him in front of my car.

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