Exclusive Excerpt! THE TROUBLE WITH WANTING by Jillian Liota

“What’s got that dreamy expression on your face?”

My eyes flit to Boyd’s where he’s standing above me, and I tilt my head back as he leans down to kiss my forehead.

“Just talking about how you were my miracle baby,” Patty answers. “The first little love of my life.”

Boyd rolls his eyes but leans over to kiss his mother’s cheek.

“You’re gonna need to lay off the miracle baby stuff around the others,” he says, flicking his hand in the direction of his siblings. “Otherwise they’ll know who your true favorite is.”

Patty lets out a cackle I bet all the neighbors can hear, the sound echoing across the lake.

“You know what I always say,” she responds. “You are my favorite—my favorite firstborn.”

Our conversation drifts to join in with the others, and I make sure to get in another s’more before all the supplies are gone. Eventually, Patty slaps her legs and excuses herself to go to bed. She and Mark hold hands as they head in, leaving me, Boyd, Bishop, and Bellamy to watch their parents.

“I love that their romance hasn’t died,” I say. “It’s not every day you see a couple like them still holding hands and flirting with each other.”

“Don’t remind me,” Bishop groans, his youthful irritation at seeing his parents be lovey-dovey clear in his tone.

“It’s sweet.” Bellamy emphasizes her opinion by slapping her brother across the chest. “Don’t shit on it. Most kids would kill to have parents like we do.”

Her eyes flit to mine for a second but quickly return to the chocolate and graham cracker sandwich she’s been nibbling on.

“Sweet, sure—it’s sweet as a fucking peach pie until you hear your parents having sex through the walls at night, or you walk in on them groping each other in the kitchen where anyone can see them,” Bishop says.

He makes a gagging noise as the rest of us burst into laughter.

“It’s funny until it happens to you,” he adds, pointing a finger at each of us. “And mark my words, you’re going to be coming to me with an apology someday.”

Boyd’s laugh dies off as he yanks me closer, tugging me to sit on his legs, my own dangling off the side of his chair as he tucks me in against his chest.

It’s a snuggly position, and as much as I want to keep my attention on the conversation, it isn’t long before my eyes start to droop.

I listen to the twins argue about something that has to do with groceries and a disappearing bag of Cheetos, but the thread of their conversation begins to get muddled as I sink deeper against Boyd.

“You still awake?” he asks, his voice low, the sound of it rumbling in my ear.

“Mmmmm,” I moan, pressing my face into him, enjoying the heat from the fire on one side and the warmth of Boyd’s body on the other.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Barely,” I mumble, wishing I could just snuggle into his chest and fall asleep.

I know he should take me back to my little house and my own bed right now, know he should say good night and give me a kiss and then leave.

It’s the smart thing to do.

But I don’t want to be smart.