Page 62 of Axe Backwards
He dropped the six-pack onto the counter with a loud thud. “Not you too. What the fuck?”
“Me too?”
He shook his head, muttering to himself.
I scrutinized him, trying to employ that twin telepathy, but he was much better at it than I was. “Do you have a fake girlfriend too?”
He pinned me with a glare.
I only shrugged. It was worth asking, given his reaction.
He took off his glasses, cleaned them on his shirt, and then put them back on. It was a classic Jude tell. He had a secret, and he wouldn’t share it with me. “Next, are you gonna tell me you’re secretly in love with her and ask for advice about how to win her over?”
“Weirdly specific question, but no.” Although a tiny voice in my head was screaming that my statement was not entirely factual.
“Good. Don’t. Rule number one of a fake relationship: Don’t fall in love.”
Huffing a laugh at how bothered he was, I crossed my arms. “How are you the expert on fake relationships?” There had to be a story here.
He ducked his head, avoiding eye contact as he pulled two beers out. “I read,” he said. “And people tell me things.”
“I’m only telling you—”
He held up a hand. “I won’t say a word. So what do you need from me? Advice? Absolution? Since I’m basically the family priest these days, lay it on me.”
“I’m here for the pizza and beer.” I twisted the cap off mine and took a quick sip. “You know I can’t lie to you, so I figured I’d get it out of the way.”
Lips pressed together, he nodded.
“You sure I can’t help?”
He shook his head, slicing mushrooms so paper thin they were practically transparent.
It was such a Jude thing to do. He’d clearly mastered the art of the homemade pizza. He was like that, focused and fastidious. The total opposite of me.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he was studying the Italian language in order to make the experience more authentic.
He might have been a bachelor, but he was anything but stereotypical. His house was a small cape north of town, near themountains. It was pristine and looked nothing like one would expect the bachelor pad of a professional lumberjack to.
His refinished hardwood floors gleamed, and every window was adorned with a flower box overflowing with color.
His furniture was tasteful, and his walls were decorated with artwork. The spare bedroom housed several musical instruments, and his graphic novel collection took up one entire wall of his living room.
Jude had always been this way. He paid attention, and regardless of what he was doing, he gave it his all. It was why he was such a talented musician. As a kid, he’d stay up all night learning new chords on the battered acoustic guitar my mom had bought him at the pawnshop.
In many ways, I was jealous of him. He knew where he fit in this life. He did his job, and he had his hobbies, dog, and home. He was settled.
In contrast, I was deeply unsettled. I was the one who had a child to care for, yet I had no plan, no career, and no idea how I’d make it through the next few years, let alone a solid eighteen with Tess. The thirty-four years I’d been on this earth had been spent chasing the next adventure, the next opportunity to be a hero. I’d trained and drilled and traveled, chasing fires and good times.
I collected scars as I went, both physical and emotional. Being home, spending time with Jude, though he was my twin and my best friend, had made me realize that I would never fit the way he did. I’d never settle.
My brain wouldn’t quiet down enough to let me.
I’d always be itchy and chasing the next thing.
For the first time in my life, that terrified me.
Because I had more than myself to think about now. I had Tess.
