But there was no magical time-machine. No second chance to rewrite what he'd broken.
Only the silence of the house, and the empty space where Sage should have been.
Ronin hesitated, then clicked the photo.
An involuntary gasp tore from his throat.
Brenson heard it. "Uncanny, isn't it?"
Because the man staring back at him could have been Ronin's twin, only younger. The same green eyes, the same dark hair. It was like looking into a mirror.
Ronin's mind spun. There was so much he didn't know, and he needed answers.
"Do you have a work address?" he managed to ask through his tight throat.
"I'll send it now," Brenson replied.
Chapter 21
The resemblance had been haunting him ever since he'd opened Brenson's file, but standing in the lobby of James Floyd's clothing store was something else entirely. His palms were damp, his throat felt like it was closing up. Every step towards the reception desk in the admin wing felt weighted, as though the floor itself might give way.
The blonde secretary looked up from her computer, her face lighting with easy recognition followed by confusion. Then she frowned, blinking twice, her eyes rounding. "Oh... Hello," she said warmly. "You look so much like James. Are you related?"
Ronin's mouth opened but nothing came out. But before he could answer, the office door swung open, and James Floyd stepped out.
His face was open, easy, the kind of expression that invited trust. Then his gaze caught Ronin, and he stopped dead.
The confusion was immediate and unguarded. His eyes roamed Ronin's face, scanning, cataloguing every similarity, as if he were staring into an unfinished reflection.
"I don't...know you," James said slowly. His brows drew together, then lifted with a half-smile that didn't quite disguise his unease. "But is there something my parents haven't told me?"
Ronin swallowed, his pulse loud in his ears.Not your parents, he thought bitterly. The words scraped his throat. "No," he managed. "But I do need to talk to you. May I come in?"
James hesitated, still studying him, still trying to fit Ronin into some frame of recognition. Then, reluctantly, he stepped aside. "Yes," he said at last, pushing the door wide.
As Ronin crossed the threshold, he knew the next conversation was going to change his life. Behind him, the door clicked shut.
Ronin was still in a daze after the events of the last few days when the doorbell rang.
And the person on the other side was the last person he wanted to see.
He consciously relaxed his grip on the door as he stared at the woman who had wrecked his life. Who was he kidding? He had done it to himself.
"Go home, Amanda," he said, his tone laced with steel.
"No," she said quickly, her voice low but sharp. "You have been avoiding me. If you don't want the whole neighbourhood to know what we have been up to, then you'd better let me in." Her chin lifted towards the low hedge where Gwenda lingered, pretending to busy herself with the roses, but stealing glances all the same.
Something flickered across Ronin's face then, a hardness that hadn't been there before. He used to soften when Amanda looked at him like that—eyes shining, mouth tremulous, as though she were the wounded one. It used to make him feel he owed her something. Like he was powerful and macho and had all the answers to her problems.
But not anymore.
His mouth was a flat line, his tone iron. "Not today. Not here. You've done enough damage already."
Amanda's lips parted, stunned by the steel in his voice, but he didn't wait for her answer. He closed the door firmly, the click of the latch final, and leaned back against it, breathing hard.
For the first time in months, he hadn't caved.
He could hear more footsteps crunching the gravel on the path followed by low voices. Ronin knew who that was and hurried to open the door and stop the trainwreck.
