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“Of course, I don’t.” Reaching for his hand, I admire the colorful tattoos painted down his arm. Remembering the one inked on his flank tugs at my heartstrings. I haven’t had time to process the fact he has a tattoo to remind him of when we first met. I stroke over the queen chess piece on his forearm, as this just adds to the brilliance of this man. Saxon purrs low, his flesh prickling.
“I don’t blame Sam for saying what he did. He only remembers what Kellie has told him. And I suppose it gives him grounds to think he’s the better brother. In a way, I suppose he is.”
“Don’t you dare say that.” I press my palm to his cheek. “You’re two entirely different people. You may be twins, but you’re nothing alike.” I want nothing more than to go to bed with Saxon and forget the world exists, but we can’t. Not yet. “There’s something we have to do.”
Saxon doesn’t need me to draw him a diagram. He frowns but nods. “No more secrets, right?”
“No more secrets,” I confirm, which has me remembering my encounter with Sophia. “By the way, are you sure Sophia knew you weren’t dating?”
Saxon pulls back, surprised. “Yes. Why?”
There is no easy way to say it. “Because I saw her at the hospital, and she called me a, a whore.”
His jaw clenches, and his nostrils flare. “What?” He takes a moment to compose himself, taking three deep breaths. “Did you misunderstand her?”
I bite my lower lip, wishing that were true. “No. I’m pretty certain I’ll never forget being called a whore who worked both you and Sam.” God, that sounds so ugly.
“What in the actual fuck?” Saxon appears beyond livid. “I mean, we…” When he uses his hands to gesture, I quickly put a stop to a conversation I have no desire to hear.
I wave animatedly. “Okay, enough. I don’t want the details. Regardless of what you think, she’s angry, but most of all, she’s hurt. You may not have feelings for her, but she clearly has feelings for you. I think you need to talk to her. You owe her that. Regardless of the fact she hates my guts and I’m public enemy number one, it’s the right thing to do.”
Saxon’s features soon uncoil, and he reaches for my hand. “You astound me.”
Interlocking our fingers, I bask in his touch. “Don’t be so quick to canonize me just yet. We still have to talk to Sam.”
The mood suddenly sours because we can’t avoid the inevitable a second longer. “No more secrets?” he asks, referring to what I proposed earlier.
The longer we leave it, the harder it’ll be. I have no doubt Sam will lash out and never forgive me, but just as Saxon owes Sophia, I owe Sam. He needs to know everything, and by doing that, Saxon and I both have to talk to him.
He runs his thumb across my knuckles, then releases my hand. I instantly miss his touch. “Let’s not rub his nose in it.” I nod. He’s right. “Here goes nothing.”
We walk down the hallway, searching for Sam. We don’t have far to look. He’s out on the porch, beer in hand as he leans on the balcony railing, staring out at what was once his favorite sight in the world. Acres upon acres of our untouched land. Now, it’s just a reminder of the void we all share.
“Sam?” My small voice betrays my nerves. He doesn’t bother turning around. “We need to talk.”
His snicker catches on the horizon. “I’ve reached my quota on talking for today, thank you very much.”
“Stop being such a smartass and listen to what she has to say.” Saxon’s sharp voice cuts through the stagnancy, but it incites World War III.
Sam spins, narrowing his eyes, his wrath focused on his brother. “Oh, so you’re her protector now? How romantic.”
“She doesn’t need protecting. She’s more than capable of fending for herself.” Saxon folds his arms, not at all intimidated.
His aloofness only seems to infuriate Sam further, and he storms forward, leaving mere inches between them. “We both know you were waiting for me to screw up. Well, congratulations, you won.” He throws his arms out.
Saxon stands his ground while I wait on the sidelines, ready to intervene if things get messy. “This may surprise you, but I actually have a life, and it doesn’t revolve around you.” I rub my forehead as Saxon’s sarcasm is not helping.
Sam’s attention flicks over to where I stand. I swallow but stand tall. “But it does around Lucy. It always has. That’s why you moved away. You couldn’t stand that she wanted me and not you.”
“Stop it.” I know Sam is baiting him, but he won’t listen.
“You were just waiting to swoop on in and save the day, weren’t you?” He shoves Saxon’s chest with both hands. A heavy breath leaves Saxon, but he doesn’t bite, nor does he budge from Sam’s assault. “You could finally be the good guy, right? Make amends for all the sins of your past.” Saxon turns his cheek; Sam’s words far more painful than the physical abuse. “The fact she’s here and not running for the hills means she’s forgiven you for being a monster. Well, good luck to you both…you can have my sloppy seconds.”
Before I know what’s happening, Saxon’s cool demeanor snaps and he pounces forward, nose to nose with Sam. “If you ever,eversay that about her again…it’ll be the last thing you ever say. Got it?” He levels his twin with nothing but utter contempt.
As expected, this has not gone well. “All right, enough!” I yell, attempting to wedge my way between the two brothers. But neither will budge. They are glaring at one another, nostrils flared. Animalistic, ragged breathes leave them both. “This doesn’t solve anything. We’re all going to sit down and attempt to have a civil conversation.” My suggestion falls on deaf ears however.
“Look at you, all chivalrous and shit. I never thought I’d see the day, given you used to fuck anything with a pulse.” I blanch at that image while Saxon’s fists clench and unclench at his sides.
