Page 108 of Merging Wright

Fuck. “And you couldn’t have given us privacy?”

“Something in her eyes begged me not to go. I think she feels weak around you.”

“Jane isn’t weak.”

Myles sighs. “Maybe weak isn’t the correct word. She knew she couldn’t be strong with you. She’s wrapped around your finger just like Tracy was.”

“Jane isn’t wrapped around my finger,” I sputter, dismissing the idea. “And as for Tracy . . . I thought you fucked my wife.”

“Ainsley might have mentioned that.” Myles bitterly scoffs. “No wonder you’ve hated me all these years. And I thought it was only the fact Tracy died under my watch.”

I could ask why she was even with him, but I now have an answer. My thoughts flip through all my brother has suffered. The loss of his friend. Perhaps the loss of the love of his life with Ainsley. The weakness of his leg. Months of rehabilitation for his body. Years enduring Fischer after I left.

“I thought you got her pregnant.” I sip my scotch and watch Myles over the rim of my glass.

He fumbles against his cane before catching himself and looking over at me. “How could you think that?”

“Because I thought you were sleeping with my wife.” The truth is blanketed in twenty-five years of pent-up hurt and anger. Unwarranted anger that could have been righted had I only asked questions or confronted my twin. Instead, I chose my reality of the situation and misread the rest.

Myles narrows his eyes at me. “Do you really think I’d do that to you? Do you think Tracy would?” His voice rings incredulous. Ainsley reminded me that I didn’t actually believe Tracy would sleep with my brother, but perhaps it was easier to think she had than accept her death. Harboring that hatred toward Myles took over the grief of losing my wife and child.

“How did you know she was pregnant?”

“She told me. She was driving me to Ainsley that night. She told me about your fight and how she couldn’t stay here. She suspected she was pregnant, and she’d taken a test. She hadn’t even been to the doctor yet.”

Our argument floats through my head.

“Maybe we should call this what it is, if you don’t love me enough to go with me.”

“What is it?” Tracy had questioned.

“The end of us.”

My eyes close. Yeah, the fight had been brutal. Words had gotten ugly and vindictive because when you’re twenty-two with the world before you, you want to start running, and you want your wife by your side in the sprint.

You react before you think, Ma said.

“She told me she couldn’t let you go. She didn’t want to raise the baby without you. She was committed to you. She was going to tell you the next day.”

The day after . . . the accident.

My eyes burn. My nose prickles. I whisper to my glass of amber liquid. “I hadn’t told her I loved her.”

Myles’s glare weighs on me.

“Even if we fought, we never went to bed without I love you said.”

That night we didn’t go to bed together.

“You tell Jane you love her every night?”

“Jane and I aren’t like that.” The sour words pour forth, and I lift my glass to choke down more burning alcohol.

“Why not?” Myles’s curiosity rankles.

Because we just aren’t. But the truth is, why hadn’t I told Jane how I felt? Why didn’t I say I love you to her yet? The answer was the partnership. I wanted to clear that up before I laid my emotions before her. Part of my fear was Jane’s reaction. If the partnership was all that was important to her, she wasn’t going to share my emotions. She wasn’t going to love me in return.

My heart couldn’t take the battering.