Page 42 of Twins for the Enemy

“The doctor told me.”

“And I’ll find a way to repay you for all of this,” I say. “I know it couldn’t be cheap.”

“I’d consider it an insult if you did.”

I tilt my head toward him, but he ignores it, gathering my bra and helping to pull my arms through it. He clasps it as I lean against thebed.

It leads me to thoughts that I shouldn’t have. The bed frame isn’t fortified enough for the fantasies flitting through my mind.

I need to snap out of it. Think of something sad. Tragic. It shouldn’t be so difficult in a hospital.

“So, you made a large enough donation that they named the trauma center after you,” I mention. “Did you lose someone… from that?”

I remember the name Olivia. I remember the name Robert Young, a name that causes him so much rage it could form a blade or a bullet.

“My sister,” he says. “Olivia. She died in a car accident.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say. “Did you—that must have been horrible.”

“It was.”

He pulls my shirt—his shirt—over my head.

“Is that why you were so nice to me aftermy car crash?” I ask.

“Olivia did cross my mind,” he says. “Until I saw you. I wasn’t thinking much about my sister after that. You were overwhelmingly vulnerable and needed help, but you look nothing like Olivia.”

He rearranges some of my hair that got messed up as he dressed me.

“You’re something new,” he says. And I feel like it for the first time.

Kieran drives, one hand on the wheel, leaning back into the driver’s seat—but not like the college boys where they’re trying to prove how relaxed they are. It’s very natural to him. To an almost concerning level, especially when he hasn’t said a word since we left the hospital.

I hadn’t realized we’d been in the hospital so long. Night has crawled through the roads, giving Chicago the appearance of a moody nightclub.

I should thank him for being with me in the hospital that long, especially when the hospital seemed to be a place that he’s repelled by.

But words seem redundant at this point.

At night, downtown Chicago has the same lit-up traffic signs, streetlights, and illuminated skyscraper offices as every other city, but it’s also darker than other cities. At least, from what I’ve seen in photos and the movies. It should make everything seem more threatening or depressing, but I prefer it. It makes the colored lighting more vibrant and the skyscrapers appear darker, which causes the bright office windows to look more like levitating rooms. It makes you wonder what the person inside is doing—hustling to impress his boss? Rereading her notes for the meeting in the morning? Loosening his tie for the secretary as her dress pools at her feet?

I’ve missed Chicago. At first, I preferred being in the small town without the constant noise of cars, honking, and sirens. I loved how much easier it was to walk around without worrying about all of the strangers onthe sidewalk, but some part of me is always here. Some part of me needs the tension and the darkness.

I just don’t know if I can stay. Because of the police. Because of the man driving me and the way he divides me into several contrasting people, who are feeling more and more like they’re all the genuine version of me.

As I see the red brake lights ahead and police lights flashing, I sink lower into my seat. It’s unlikely the police would be looking inside cars for an arson case from two and a half months ago, but I’m not going to risk it.

But Kieran turns before we reach that point. I let out a slow breath, sitting up again.

“Aren’t we going in the opposite direction from your house now?” I ask.

“We are.”

He doesn’t expand, and I don’t feel the need to make him. There are fewer cars this way. It’s a little moretime that I have with him, where neither of us can find an excuse to leave.

I close my eyes. If he’s going the long way back home, I might as well rest.

The rhythm of the car lulls me. I hadn’t noticed Kieran putting the heated seat on, but I feel it spreading across my back, melting me further into rest.

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