Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
My reluctance to engage, my refusal to rise to his bait.
And while I can’t tell him why I am the way I am, I can tell him this much, “You’re my brother. My twin. And I wronged you. I went behind your back. I betrayed you. You have every right to fight me. You have every right to declare war. Just know that I’ll take it. I’ll take whatever you dish out.”
He keeps his tight grip on me for a second or two.
Then, in an expected turn of events, lets me go.
He spits on the floor, muttering, “Fucking pussy.”
And turns around, ready to leave, when I call out, “Just…” He pauses but still has his back on me. “Just take care of her.”
At this, he turns around. “What?”
“Just…” I breathe out, swallowing. “I lied to her. I deceived her. I hurt her. She’s going to… She’s going to need someone. She’s going to need someone to be there for her. She’s going to need someone to hold her hand, to wipe her tears, to…”
“To what?”
Pain stabs in my chest as I say, “To love her. She needs someone to love her. No one has ever loved her and it fucking blows my mind. She’s…” I swallow again. “She’s different. She’s rare. She’s… everything. She needs to be protected. She needs to be cherished and treasured. So just… treasure her. Give her whatever she wants.”
Because I can’t.
I’m not allowed to. I wouldn’t even know how.
Shepard was right when he said she’s bright and colorful and passionate. And I deliberately lead a dull and colorless life. She’s reckless and I need to be leashed at all times. She’s untamed and I need to be tamed.
She’s fire and I’m wildfire.
I’m not a good fit for her.
But Shepard is.
He keeps watching me for a few seconds, his dark eyes taking my features in. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but if it’s veracity, then he should be able to find it. He should be able to see that I mean every fucking word.
I mean it and I want to set fire to it at the same time.
Because I want to be the one to give her everything.
I want to be the one to protect her.
Me, no one else.
But I’m the thing she needs protection from, so it will have to be him.
I know the exact moment he finds what he’s looking for—I still don’t know what exactly that was, though—as he says, “Stay away from her.”
With that, he leaves, and Byron and Ark follow him.
A small crowd has gathered around the nook and I see a couple of cell phones out. Thankfully, Homer takes the responsibility of waving them away while I gather myself and get ready to leave. Before I can do that, though, he’s back and the way he’s staring at me, I know he has something to say.
I wait and his growled words come out. “What the hell were you thinking?”
I take in a deep breath. “I wasn’t.”
Homer gets his handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to me. “He’s your brother. You don’t do that to your brother.”
“I know,” I reply, taking it and wiping off the rest of the blood.
And I’m guilty.
For going behind his back, for betraying him. But for some insane, unknown, bizarre reason, I’m also not. Because in my twisted head, I still think she belongs to me. I still think he’s between us. He’s the wrong twin not me.
For the millionth time, it doesn’t make sense.
But I can’t shake it away.
It doesn’t matter, though.
It’s over. It’s done.
A different voice interrupts my thoughts. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
It’s Byron.
With his big and broad body, Byron looks more like a football player than a soccer player. And he did play football in school, but he always gravitated toward soccer, so that’s what he chose. Pair that with his dark bun and a full beard, he looks like a lumberjack football player who’s a soccer player. Which is why the media calls him the Big Daddy. Byron ‘Big Daddy’ Bradshaw.
And right now, he looks pissed.
“You don’t fucking do that to your brother.” He keeps growling.
“Already covered that,” Homer says, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
Byron doesn’t move his eyes away from me, though. “I know you guys don’t see eye to eye. Not that Shep would ever tell us why but… Jesus. You’re supposed to be the good twin. The twin who follows all the rules. Who’s so annoyingly good that I always wanted to punch you. What the fuck happened? What the fuck did you do?”
“Apparently I’m just an asshole in disguise,” I say.
Byron stares at me for a few seconds. Then shakes his head. “You need to sort yourself out, you get me?”
I watch him.
I want to punch him too.
I’ve always wanted to punch him because he’s friends with Shepard. Because Shepard trusts him more than he trusts me. As he should, but still.