She lets out the softest of sighs in her sleep, and my heart clenches with feelings I can no longer deny—no matter how hard I try. Longing. Need.
Love.
I would do anything, give anything, to turn back the hands of time and undo what I did.
I pull the chair I’m sitting in closer to the bed, unable to keep my distance. That was always the problem. As hard as I try to deny it, I am still drawn to Evie like a moth to a flame. Her quick wit, fiery spirit, and dry sense of humor are but of the few qualities that make her irresistible to me. She is beautiful, captivating—inside and out. Her lips are a little too full, her cheekbones a little too round. Her bronze skin, coffee-colored eyes, and caramel-brown hair all give her an air of warmth that reminds me of roasting chestnuts by an open fire.
In fact, sheisthe flame. My Spitfire . . .
As much as I hate to admit it, there was the allure of the forbidden where Evie was concerned. She was destined to be my sister in all but blood—according to Jamie’s obvious albeit unspoken rules. She was never meant to be on my romantic radar. In fact, for the longest time, I never saw her as much more than an annoying kid sister.
As soon as I realized I was attracted to Evie, I knew I was doomed, despite how hard I tried to keep her at arm’s length. I knew Jamie would castrate me if I so much as looked at her the wrong way. Heck, I wanted to castratemyselfthe second I started desiring her. But I also wasn’t the type to walk away if I wanted someone.
And how quickly I had come to want Evie . . .
Virtually overnight, things changed between us. And while the intensity of my sudden desire for her had shocked me at first, it also made complete sense. What we have . . . had . . .went beyond the physical. I loved her, from the very beginning, although not in a romantic sense. My bond with her has deep, almost untraceable roots. And as strange as it may seem, or as cliche as it might sound, the closer we got, the more it started to feel like she was made for me—my perfect match. In every way possible. The Eve to my Adam.
I don’t know if God designs us a perfect match or if there’s such a thing as a soul mate. But one thing I do know is He knits together the one our soul comes to love. And I also know—without a shadow of a doubt—that mysoul,my veryessenceloves Genevieve. This stubborn, infuriating young woman whom I routinely lose sleep over holds my heart captive under lock and key and has for quite some time.
The truth of the matter is that I am in love with Genevieve Montgomery.
It’s as simple and as complicated as that.
Evie’s fingers twitch at her side, and I take her hand in mine. It’s chilled and clammy to the touch. I gently rub it between mine, wanting to keep her warm. Kissing her knuckles every so often, I gaze at her. Her eyeliner has smudged, making her under eye circles look that much worse. That bold red lip she wears has melted away, exposing the natural blush of her pout.
And those freckles . . . A constellation of them swirl across her delicate features like a starry night, concentrating around her button nose. If she’d let me, I would kiss every single one.
She’s beautiful. Breathtaking. Even when she’s not trying.
Her eyelids flutter, and I keep still, not wanting to rouse her.
She sighs again, deeper this time.Oh, Lord. I love her . . .
Evie puts up a good front, but I know she’s hurting. As a child, she had to be the center of attention at all times. She used to be vivacious—full of life, happiness, smiles. She would dance, sing, chat your ear off. In fact, she wouldn’t shut up. Jamie duck taped her mouth shut once, but that didn’t keep her from chatting garbled nonsense. She thrived off our laughter and applause. She would bust out in song and dance whenever she wanted, wherever you were. It was as endearing as it was annoying. Everyone thought she’d grow up to become a singer, dancer, or actress—or maybe even a combination of all three.
But a rain cloud eclipsed her sunny disposition before she’d even hit puberty. Her parents divorced when she was only ten years old—and her mother skipped town shortly after that. Both Jamie and Evie still have no contact with her, and it wasn’t for a lack of trying on their part. It’s as though she disappeared off the face of the planet.
After that, there were only three people who could get Evie to laugh or smile. Those people were me, Jamie, and Maggie. Now, I can barely get Evie to look at me, let alone crack a smile.
Evie might project a convincing image of stone-cold strength and resiliency, but deep down, I know her heart is a bubbling cauldron of emotion. On the inside, she’s still that whimsical, happy-go-lucky girl—the one who used to look at me like I hung the stars.
I’m determined to bringthatgirl back to life.
When I look up from our intertwined hands, Evie’s gazing at me. I sit up. “Evie. How long have you been awake?”
Her expression is cryptically blank. She squints, taking me in like she’s never seen me before, before glancing at the analog clock on the wall. Then she frowns at me. “Who are you?”
My heart drops.
She grins. “Kidding.”
I huff, torn between amusement and relief. “Not funny.”
“I beg to differ,” she says as she struggles to sit up.
Bouncing to my feet, I help her raise the bed. Once she’s sitting upright, the room floods with tension. “How are you feeling?” I wonder, looking her over. She looks a little green.
She shrugs, then winces. “I’ve been better.” Her eyes dart to the door. “Nothing from imaging yet?”
