A Love Song for Liars (Rivals #1) - Piper Lawson Page 0,27

head to the garage and reach for my keys.

They’re not there.

I whirl and stalk back to the patio, where Tyler and Brandon are still sitting.

“Where are my keys?”

Tyler clasps his hands behind his head. “Beats me.”

I’m halfway down the driveway to catch the Uber I called when I hear footsteps behind me.

“Come back. Your dad’ll be pissed if you leave on my watch.” Tyler’s voice at my back is one part amused, one part annoyed.

“I need to rehearse.”

“You can rehearse in the house.” He catches up and cuts me off.

“I’m going. You can’t stop me.”

“Wanna bet?”

He slings me over his shoulder before I can take another breath.

The ground is a few feet from my face, blood rushing to my head as I try to orient myself. “What the hell! This is medieval. No, these are like… press gang tactics. Put me down!”

“Once we get to the house.”

I grind my teeth together as I bounce on his shoulder. “You’re staring at my ass, aren’t you?”

“As much as you’re staring at mine.”

The finger I’m tracing over the stitching on the back pocket of his jeans stills, and Tyler chuckles.

“I was hoping you’d have a comic strip on your thigh. This is a long driveway.”

The only sounds for the next dozen steps are his steady breathing and my awkward huffs of breath.

When he finally sets me down, we’re in the rose garden where I was with Kellan last weekend.

“I have to tell you something,” he says.

I blink, feeling the blood flow back down my body and out of my head. “Okay…”

Tyler bends to pick something off the flagstone, turning back to me. It’s a purple rose, its stem broken but its petals intact.

“I called you nothing that day because I figured if I said it enough, I’d start to believe it.”

My throat tightens. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Not great.” He rubs a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in a way that should be stupid but isn’t. “Before I came here, Jax told me to keep my distance.”

Unbelievable.

I open my mouth, but Tyler continues first.

“He was right, by the way.” He steps closer until I’m forced to lift my chin to hold his gaze. “I have no business inserting myself in your life.”

I fold my arms over my chest, taking in his contrite expression. “I will be the judge of who inserts themselves in my anything, thank you very much.”

His mouth twitches, and he holds up the rose.

A gift has to cost something. Not money but time, emotion.

The flower’s not a gift, but it feels like one.

I take the stem from his hand and turn it between my fingers. “When I lived with Aunt Grace, back before I learned Jax was my dad, we had roses in the house at least once a month. Usually red. Her husband bought them for her.” My chest squeezes hard at the memory. “I always knew when they were coming because it was the day after they fought. She’d sleep in that morning, spend extra time putting on makeup when she got up.”

Tyler’s body stiffens as my words sink in. “Did he ever hurt you?”

His voice is so low I nearly miss it.

“He never touched me.”

“That’s not quite the same.”

My lips curve. “No, it’s not.”

I think of the backhanded comments he muttered when my aunt wasn’t in earshot. How I was useless, didn’t belong, didn’t deserve to live with them.

I know now the words were directed at my dad, not at me, but I found ways to cope. Writing words of encouragement on myself, things I could hold on to, was one of those ways.

Tyler looks past me, his jaw working. “Fuck, you must hate roses.”

He reaches for the flower, and I hold it away. “Not at all. They’re breathtaking and fragile and resilient. For everything in life that sucks, there’s something beautiful if you know where to look.”

The disbelief on his face has me smiling in earnest.

“Our lives are the stories we tell about them. The stories we sing about them,” I go on pointedly. “And our hearts don’t belong in cages. We’re meant to be fragile. We’re born to bleed.”

I squeeze his arm before turning to start back toward the driveway.

“Annie...” His voice is a warning.

I pull up, sighing. “I need this musical. You can let me go to rehearsal, or you can help me.”

He stares me down, emotions running together behind his dark eyes. Helping me would mean more than just going against my dad, and we both know it.

“That’s what