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“You are,” I affirm, but it’s weak. “What you did to him was awful. Both our lives could have been so different if you’d just told the truth.”
Sam snickers, tired of me defending his twin and not him. “I didn’t tell you the truth because I wanted to save you—” he shouts, charging forward and gripping my upper arms.
“From what?” I cry, attempting to break free because his touch sparks a rage. I’m done with this conversation. But Sam won’t let me go as he shakes me like a ragdoll.
“From him! He’s a—”
“He’s a what?” I scream, uncaring I’ve drawn the attention of almost everyone in a hundred-mile radius. He has three seconds to explain himself because I’m done listening to his excuses.
He tightens his hold, drawing me toward him until our faces are mere inches apart. He makes no secret of his anger toward me or Saxon, but as he examines every part of me, I see that underneath the rage is sheer torment. “What you think you feel for my brother…what you think you know…” He takes a steadying breath, which leaves me parched, gasping for air. “…Ask him about Ivan Preston.”
“Who?” I’ve never heard this name before, but I have a feeling it has the capability to change everything I thought I knew.
“He was Saxon’s best friend,” Sam finally confesses, loosening his hold. However, now that I’m free, I have no idea where I want to go.
“What happened to him?” I’m almost afraid to ask as I rub the goose bumps from my flesh.
Sam pins me to the spot with that lingering look of despair. “He died.”
My heart skips a beat. Why is he telling me this? “Oh, god, that’s aw-awful.” I cup a hand to my mouth.
“Yes, it is. Especially since…”
These drawn-out pauses are grating my already frazzled nerves. “Since what?”
“Just ask him.”
“Ask him what? Why can’t you tell me?” This is the moment I need to shut up and put a lid on my curiosity because nothing good can come from this conversation.
Sam stubbornly shakes his head. “No, you need to see him for what he is.”
It’s now my turn to hold him and not let go. “And what’s that?”
My bravado is seconds away from diminishing because the resolve to Sam’s demeanor reveals that whatever he’s about to tell me has the power to undo the best memories of my life.
“Tell me!” I’m now the one begging for the truth. But what Sam says next…I suddenly wish I could erase this moment in time.
“He’s a monster, Lucy.” I don’t have a chance to defend his honor because his admission takes the breath from my lungs and the song from my heart. “Ivan Preston is dead because Saxon…killed him.”
Idon’t even bother turning off my car as I put it into park and leap out the door. Sam is still in the passenger seat, and if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay there for a while. The ride from the hospital to my home, Whispering Willows, passed me by in a blur because all I could focus on was finding Saxon and begging him to tell me the truth.
What Sam told me, there was no way that could be true. Saxon’s warning plays over in my mind.
“Promise me you won’t fall for Samuel’s lies.”
This has to be one of those times because Saxon would have told me something so monumental—I know he would.
Racing through my house, I call out to Saxon like the madwoman I currently am. The door to the guest bedroom rips open, and when I see him, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Lucy? What’s wrong?”
My nerves are fried, and all I want to do is curl into a ball and sleep for an eternity. “Who is Ivan Preston?”
When Saxon takes a step back, visibly dumbfounded, I can’t believe this is happening. I thought if I came in with guns blazing, he’d tell me to stop overacting because there is a reasonable explanation to all this. But his pallid complexion reveals I already know the truth.
I stop dead in my tracks, shaking my head and hugging my torso. “No.” I gasp. “Please tell me it isn’t true.”
This can’t be happening.
“Come inside,” he pleads.
