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Ryan is a twin.
And I am a fool.
“Are you okay, darling?” Ben asks, just as Seb charges into the room. My gaze darts up to him, the pressure inside me growing with every passing breath.
Seb’s eyes are bright green and oh-so-wide as they lock in on me, and I’m pinned even further into my seat. His clothes are a mess, lots of mud on the knees of his jeans and his shirt, and a rip across his chest with some dried blood on his tanned stomach. He doesn’t stop. Instead, he rushes to my side and lifts me from the chair into his arms.
His heart is pounding, I can hear the echo of it as he clutches me into his chest, but his isn’t the only one this loud.
Why does he get to be comforted when it’s my world that has been torn apart?
Ryan has an identical twin brother.
They’ve had weeks to come to terms with their decision of keeping Ryan’s life a secret. They’ve known for twenty-five years—a quarter of a century—to know that Ryan has an identical twin.
But this has just been dropped on me, and my entire world view has changed.
I shove at Seb’s chest, trying to release the tight grip he has on me so that these stupid sparks can stop and I can collect my thoughts. He growls and, instead, cuddles me tighter. His heart still hasn’t slowed, and neither has his breathing, despite the repeated gulps of breath as he takes in my scent.
I’m struggling to regulate myself, and I can’t, I need to be down. I need space.
But do you? my conscience calls.
“No, Seb, that’s enough,” I say as sternly as I can manage. My breathless tone makes it hard for him to take me seriously. “Place me down on the floor, now.”
“No.” He’s using a no-nonsense tone, one I can’t argue against, as he wraps his arms even tighter around me. It’s a tiny, tiny, squeeze away from being uncomfortable. “Please, mate, let me love you.”
Ugh, he’s so manipulative without actually trying to be.
He sniffs my hair, and I can feel him relax a little when I stop fighting.
“I’m mad.” I mutter the words, a pout on my lips, as I embrace the sparks fully and let him use my scent to calm himself down. I sort of need the hugs here, too.
“I know.” He sounds so sad and defeated in this moment here that I can feel how much he hates this. I relax in his hold and offer him comfort like the weak woman I so clearly am. He presses a soft kiss to my neck as I gently run my nails up and down the back of his scalp and neck.
“She’s mad at me, has called me mean names, and says I’m the ugliest?—”
“She did none of these things,” I snap, pulling away from Seb to glare at Ben over his shoulder. Seb whines, wanting the neck scratches, I think, but unfortunately, his brother needs correcting. “I’ve not once called you any names. And I really didn’t say you were ugly or the ugliest. How immature do you think I am?”
Ben pouts, dropping down from the sofa to his knees. He clasps his hands together and flutters his eyelashes at me. “Please, forgive me, darling. I’ll never lie to you again.”
“Put me down,” I say, and Seb sighs but doesn’t argue, this time. He lets the weight of my body slide down his. There’s so many tingles from where we touch that it soothes my panic that much more.
“Phoebe?” he pleads, and I nod. There’s a grin on his face as he bounds over to unstrap my tiny girl from her swing.
I let out a small sigh and turn properly to have all three men in my sights. Seb’s not looking at me, too interested in Phoebe, but both Alex and Ben are watching me warily.
“As a whole, the four of you have damaged the extremely fragile trust that I have placed in you,” I say, and when Alex opens his mouth, I give him a stern look that has him shutting up. “Can you hear me through there, Christopher?”
“Oh, fuck, the full name,” Ben whispers, not moving from his position on his knees. I don’t acknowledge him, knowing that’ll only make his comments that much worse.
But, fuck, could that imagery look so good if I—no, Maia. We don’t care how attractive Ben looks right now.
“Yes,” Topher says, and it’s only a second later that he comes through from the kitchen. His teeth are clenched together, his shoulders tense, but he gives me a nod that shows he’s willing to listen to whatever I have to say.
It’s about time.
“You four claim we are mates, and I won’t deny that I feel something. But your claims have not matched up to your actions. You claim you want to be in Phoebe’s life, in my life, for the long haul, and yet, you keep something like this from me,” I say quietly. I don’t need to raise my voice, not when all four of them are listening so attentively. Not when we all already feel like shit.
