Page 66 of Twins for the Enemy

“He wouldn’t make that choice,” she says firmly. “I may have been blind to it before, but I know it now. He wouldn’t do that for me. What did you do? He can’t survive in prison.”

She stops a few inches away from me. Her hands are trembling. I reach down to take them, but she jerks them away.

“I would’ve turned myself in before I let him go to jail,” she says. “When did this happen? Who do I need to call? I’ll take his place.”

“It’s too late, Farah,” I say, reaching toward her again. She steps back. “He showed them the burn scars. He told them details only he would know.”

“I’ll tell them those same details.”

“Do you know which accelerant he used? Where he started the fire?” I ask. “I don’t imagine your brother was very talkative about those details. This was for you, Farah. For your freedom.”

“Fuck you,” she says, quiet but biting. “You get to kidnap me to avenge your sister, but I don’t get to lieto protect my brother? How does that make sense? You act like you care about me, but this is the worst betrayal you could’ve done to me. This is my family, Kieran. You couldn’t even tell me—”

She throws my credit card at me. I grab her arm before she can pull it back. I pull her close enough that her chest is pressed against my chest. Her eyes are burning green flames.

“You can question my motives for many things,” I say, the words coming out like they were scraped out of my throat. “But I’m not acting like I care about you. I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anybody. That’s why I talked to your brother. I can help him through the legal process. You can still talk to him. This doesn’t need to be the end of anything.”

Her face reflects a kaleidoscope of emotions, her mouth stiffening and quivering, and her eyes tensing then getting damp in a way that makes my chest clench.

“You have to believe me,” I say.

“I can’t.”

She jerks out of my grasp, moving toward the door.

“Stay away from my brother,” she says. “And stay away from me.”

She grabs the door handle, swinging it open and leaving so quickly that I can still feel her body heat as the door closes. I look out at the view of the city, trying to think of nothing. The sky is getting dark, despite the morning hour.

The problem with chasing after a storm isn’t the threat of a tornado picking up your car and hurling you into another county.

It’s that you’ll always be chasing it.

It’s outstretching your hand to touch wild winds—and feeling them dissipate until the only thing left in the eye of the storm is a credit card.

Chapter nineteen

~FARAH~

“This whole thing is lame,” Layla says, dragging out the last word for emphasis. She leans against the counter and grimaces, wiping the traces of water off her arm. The breakroom counter is usually covered in crumbs and dried spots of coffee, but I’d just wiped it off, and water droplets still cling to the laminate. “What kind of asshole calls us in to work on a Saturday night?”

“I don’t mind,” I admit. “It’s a shotgun wedding—how often do we get to cater for that?”

“It’s a hotel, Farah. You can do it every other weekend.” She rolls her eyes. “At least these people will besaving some money on the wedding so they can pay for the divorce lawyer later.”

“So, no wedding bells in the future?” I ask.

“Oh, I will have at least three weddings.” She grins. “There is nothing more romantic than a wedding registry and guilting your family and friends into buying you new sets of knives.”

I laugh, but I stop as a memory captures my attention—Kieran grasping my hand as he uses his pocketknife to cut me out of my seatbelt after our crash.

The most insignificant details have reminded me of him for the last month. Whenever I drink coffee, I think of him bringing me coffee in the hotel bedroom. When I see something with natural beauty, I think about how he joined me to watch the deer. The sight of any kind of bandage reminds me of being with him at the hospital. The glow of lights at night reminds me of our drive through the city.

Even my bare mattress in my small apartment reminds me of when we had sex in his personal gym.

It’s ruthless that someone who spent so little time in my life eclipses everything else in it.

“Farah?” Layla asks. I snap my smile back on.

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