Page 24 of Finn Rhodes Forever

I didn’t like it.

The last thing Olivia needs is a guy like you dragging her down, her mom had said to me after Liv and I got in trouble for skipping class.

She had been right, and Iknewshe was right. That’s why I left. That’s why I said the things I did on the front porch when I got home on graduation night.I’m bored with this town. Bored with you.

It was only a matter of time until Liv figured out she was too good for me. Her mom saw right through me.

My stomach sank even lower. Fuck. No wonder Liv didn’t trust me. My entire life, I’d shown her that I couldn’t be trusted, and then I bailed on her the same night I told her I loved her.

Fucking hell, I was an asshole.

My brothers must have seen the anguish written all over my face, because Emmett clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Show her you’re not that guy anymore.”

What if I am that guy, though?I glanced at Liv with her terrible haircut. Her eyes met mine, and my stomach flipped.

For Liv, I could change.

I swallowed. “Yeah. Okay.”

“First thing you have to do is tell her you want to be friends, nothing more,” Emmett said.

I shook my head at him. “I don’t want to be just friends with her.”

Holden let out a long-suffering sigh and Emmett raised an eyebrow at him.

“It wasn’t long ago that you were in a similar position,” he told Holden.

Holden rolled his eyes and turned back to the game.

“I’ve already told her I’m going to make her fall back in love with me,” I explained, feeling dumber by the second.

Why did I show my hand like that?

She breezed past behind the bar, tray in hand, and my gaze stuck to her like glue. My heart twisted, sharp and sweet, and I swallowed past a tight throat.

Because it was Liv. Because I had never been able to keep secrets from her. She made me say everything in my head. Around her, I got dumb.

“Forget the friends thing, then.” Emmett crossed his arms and rubbed his jaw, thinking. “Focus on showing her how you’ve changed. Put on a nice shirt. Comb your hair. Cover up the tattoos. Get a responsible car.”

A strangled laugh slipped out of my throat. “What? No.”

My car was my baby. A black 1969 Mustang I had bought in my early twenties. When I was away, I paid a friend to keep it in his garage at the edge of town, covered by a protective sheet. I had it detailed regularly, only used premium gas, and brought it in for maintenance more than I needed to.

I loved that car. My happy place was driving it along the coast with the windows down, wind in my hair and music roaring through the stereo. Gripping the shifter in my hand, the way it felt to change gears on the open road.

“I can’t get rid of my car.” I shook my head. “No fucking way.”

“You need to get something responsible,” Emmett said, “like my car.”

“I’m not getting a loser car.”

He blanched. “My car isn’t alosercar.” Emmett drove one of those sporty crossovers made for families.

“It’s one step below minivan.”

Holden and Wyatt chuckled.

Emmett’s jaw clenched. “Don’t youdaremake fun of minivans.”

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