Page 51 of Twins for the Enemy

~KIERAN~

My library armchair faces the bar cart—a quiet nod to the fact that I probably reach for the bourbon more than the books. But honestly, I’ve gotten pretty good at doing both.

I’ve brought over a book on the history of the construction of the Crystal Palace, but my attention keeps returning to the surveillance video on my phone.

On the screen, Farah has her arms crossed as Neal holds his hands over his chest and his mouth rapidly moves. The surveillance system picks up the low rumble of his voice, but only an occasional word is clear enough to understand.

I take a gulp of my whiskey.

They’ve been at it for nearly twenty minutes now. Farah grabbed a coat before she went out, but I still worry about the cold. I still worry about her ankle, though she’s leaning against a pillar.

I never should have told her that it was him outside. I should have just lied back down beside her, pulled her so close to me that the rest of the world disappeared. Neal wouldn’t have been able to get inside the house. He would’ve died from exposure before being able to become a threat to Farah.

I need to turn back time. I need to close the doors, lock them forever, and I’ll keep her to myself. I’ll protect her from these liars and thieves.

But isn’t she a danger herself? Couldn’t she burn us down?

I’d let her.

She could burn down everything I have and everything I am. And the way she looked at me when I toldher the truth—I might as well be what’s left after the fire.

I look over my shoulder at the library’s shelf, where Ellie had hidden the mini replicas of the buildings Henry had designed. The engagement party is in three days. With the chaos of Farah’s ankle injury and everything between us, the calendar slipped away from me.

I can’t let Ellie and Farah encounter each other. If Ellie finds out that I’ve been harboring Farah, it will break her heart. If Farah finds out that I’d hidden the fact that the one she injured was my sister, she’ll run.

I sit up as I hear the door open and close. On my phone, I see Neal walking away from the house. I exit out of the app.

Farah pauses outside the door of the library. She turns slowly to look at me.

“Did you ask him about giving up your location?” I ask.

“No,” she says. “I don’t need to.”

She walks toward me, eyeing the liquor wistfully. I pick up the glass beside mine, holding it up for her. She looks at it, one brow raised, touching her stomach.

“It’s not liquor,” I say. “I got you some apple juice from the kitchen.”

“You knew I’d come and sit with you?”

“I’d hoped.”

She takes the glass and sits down in the chair on the other side of the bar cart. She takes a sip from the glass. She looks down at the juice, rotating the bottom of the glass against her palm.

“He was still very young when he became an addict,” she says. “I remember being eight and I already associated the smell of marijuana with him. It wasn’t long after that when he started doing harder drugs. I know how easy it is to say that it’s not my responsibility, but he’s been the one pillar in my life and he loves me. I know it doesn’t look like that now, but he used to be a great brother. He could be an asshole like all brothers,but he took on the responsibility of raising me and making me feel cared for. I just want to reciprocate. I never want him to feel like he isn’t loved or that I won’t be there for him.”

“I can understand that,” I say. “You’re not responsible, but I know that feeling of responsibility for a sibling. I felt it for a long time. I’ve imagined myself in that driver’s seat and considered over and over if I could have saved Olivia’s life if I’d turned the other way or if I’d been going a little slower or a little faster. I wonder if I’d done everything right while doing chest compressions or if I shouldn’t have moved her out of the seat. It used to fill me with so much rage that I avoided Ellie because I didn’t want her to see that. It’s because of you that I’m learning to put that anger aside.”

Her mouth twists into a half-smile. “How exactly am I doing that? It’s not like I don’t frustrate you.”

“You do,” I say. “But you also make me question things—like whether people are only the sum of their worst mistakes.”

She takes another sip of her juice, her gaze sliding down to her feet.

“I wish I could tell you everything about that night, but I don’t think I can yet. Maybe after the twins are born and I can get drunk off of more than apple juice.”

“You don’t need to tell me anything,” I say.

I mean it. If she thinks too much about it, she might realize that I’ve been so angry because Helena is Ellie. That she injured my sister.

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