My stomach clenched hard enough to hurt. Heat flushed through me, crawling up my neck, the kind of sick heat I’d only felt once before—when I found out that my mother had drowned. “So you thought I was Reef?” The word scraped out, raw.
She nodded, face tight. “I still can’t believe it either.”
I barked out a laugh that felt all wrong. “Wow. Hmm. That’s wild. Like crazy.”
“Batshit crazy,” she agreed quickly. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just… with all the other stress, I didn’t know how.”
I raked a hand through my hair, heat building under my skin. Reef. Of all people. My own mirror. Childhood memories flashed—being mistaken for him by teachers, girlfriends, strangers. That old irritation, magnified a hundredfold now. This wasn’t confusion about names. This was my girlfriend’s body, once, in his hands.
“I guess you were right about him,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “So trashed he didn’t remember.”
“So I thought,” she said with a hesitation that made me want to vomit. “But he remembers. We talked about it. Briefly. Awkwardly. At Publix, of all places. I asked him not to say anything to you because I wanted you to hear it from me.”
The words sliced deeper than I wanted to admit. Reef remembered. I’d have to look him in the eye knowing that. Worse—I’d have to look at myself, the reflection of him staring back in every mirror.
“It meant nothing,” Jasmine insisted. “To either of us. Had I not met you, it would’ve faded completely, like it never happened.”
I wanted to believe her. Hell, I almost did. But the question slipped out anyway, sharp and low. “What if it had been Reef who walked into the Whistle that night instead of me?”
“Babe.” Her voice caught, fierce and certain all at once. “I would barely recognize my own self from three years ago if she walked into the bar. I’m a different person now. And I’m not attracted to your brother.”
“Oh, c’mon,” I tried, grasping at humor I didn’t feel. “That’s a stretch. Everyone’s attracted to Reef. He looks just like me.”
Her lips curved into a smile, soft but steady. “Yeah, but he’s not you. You’re different. Many layers, more complex.”
“Like an onion,” I offered, still scrambling for levity. But, damn, this was heavy.
“Less pungent.” She wrinkled her nose, leaning in. “Although you’re pretty ripe right now.”
The laugh that broke from me was half relief, half disbelief. But it loosened something in my chest. Somehow, even with my twin’s ghost in the middle of us, Jasmine still chose me.
After pouring my heart out to her, it felt bruised. Not broken. Not shattered. Just sore in that dull, lingering way a body feels half an hour after a kick to the nuts—when the sharp edge is gone but the ache refuses to let you forget. Through no intent or malice of hers, I knew. I couldn’t fault her for a drunken hookup years ago. Couldn’t even fault her for not telling me sooner. Her honesty, I admired. But the truth? It still stung.
“I’m not gonna lie,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “I feel a little weird. It might take me a minute to process this.”
Jasmine’s eyes searched mine, full of regret. “I understand. And I’ll understand if it’s just too weird. Really. You have an incredibly close family, and creating drama or driving a wedge between you is the last thing I’d ever want. As much as I’d hate to lose you, I really would understand. So take your time. Think about it.”
“Thanks,” I said, awkwardly shoving the sandwich wrappers and empty Prosecco bottle back into the Yeti. It didn’t feel like there was much to celebrate anymore.
Jasmine quietly took her position on the bench seat at the helm. I felt like part of me was sinking to the 1,500-foot depths, the bow rising as I eased the throttle forward. For a while, the only sound was the hum of the engines and the hiss of the wake peeling away behind us. The sun beat down hot on my shoulders, the salt air sharp in my lungs, but none of it loosened the knot in my chest. Jasmine sat close enough that our shoulders brushed when the boat shifted, but neither of us moved.
My thoughts churned harder than the prop wash. I could still feel the bruise of her words, the sting that wasn’t quite pain but wouldn’t let go either. She was right—I had a close family. Tooclose sometimes. And the idea of Reef, of all people, tangled in our history made my stomach twist.
A pair of pelicans skimmed the surface off our port side, wingtips grazing the water before they lifted away. I caught myself watching them too long, maybe because it was easier than looking at Jasmine. She sat with her chin tipped high toward the horizon, hair streaming in the wind, looking steady. But her hands were knotted in her lap, white at the knuckles.
The half-hour ride stretched on like that: quiet, thick with the things neither of us knew how to say yet.
I slowed the throttle as we eased into the sandbar channel, gliding past the rows of anchored skiffs and pontoons. The channel thumped with competing soundtracks. Country twang dominated briefly, only to be overpowered by classic rock, and further along, reggaeton ruled. Half the town seemed to be out, soaking up the sun and turning up their beers. The smell of grilled burgers and coconut sunscreen floated across the water, colliding with the bass lines that vibrated our hull.
While passing a sleek Contender that was blaring Buffett, I recognized the blonde in a red bikini dancing on the bow. Misty Pinder. We’d dated for… maybe a month, a few years back. Misty probably wasn’t my only ex in the crowd. This island wasn’t exactly big, and my history wasn’t short. I’d never been a fuckboy, not exactly, but my longest relationships had topped out at a year. Eight or nine years single in between… yeah, the numbers added up. Odds were Jasmine would run into more of my exes than I’d ever run into hers. That was the way of a small town.
And somewhere in musical battle that faded behind us in a chaotic harmony that was pure Keys, as we reached the end ofthe channel, I realized I had a choice: keep chewing on the past until it poisoned us, or put it behind me before it had the chance.
I let out a rough laugh, shaking my head. “You know what, Jasmine? That’s just bullshit.”
Her brows shot up over worried eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else you want me to say. Maybe we should wait to talk about this after you’ve had some time—”
“No, no.” I cut her off, turning to face her fully. “I mean me, feeling weird. It’s bullshit. Sure, it kind of sucks that it’s my brother. But Reef and I? We’ve had the same girls chasing us for half our lives. We had this unofficial code not to repeat each other’s mistakes,” I tried to joke.
