Chapter 20
Soren
“ W hat are you doing?” I freeze in my tracks, like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t as Mickey comes bouncing down the stairs. “Are you going somewhere?”
There isn’t much point in lying since the front door is open and I’m clutching my car keys. “Going to see Nana,” I say. For some reason, it sounds like I just made that up on the spot, which, for the record, I didn’t. I haven’t been asleep at all, so I’ve had plenty of time to decide how to spend my day.
It’s been three days since we had the pregnancy confirmed, and made the owner stop by to scare Gail into coming with us willingly. Cupid’s Court is one of those places that value their high-profile clients, so all it took was one call to ask for a favor.
With some of the shit Dr. Patel spewed, I’m pretty sure she was asked to say those things. There’s nothing in Gail’s contract preventing her from going home, or even saying she can be sued.
Gail still doesn’t know it was a setup, something we arranged ahead of time. And if I have my way, she’ll never need to find out.
Today, I need time away from Gail. Not that she isn’t being the model unwilling-houseguest. True to her word, she’s followed us everywhere. In turn, we’ve allowed her access to her phone when we can be around to see what she’s doing, which isn’t much. Apparently Lucia’s gone for a few days, so they haven’t been able to talk yet. She’s talked to her brother, and mom though. I heard her reassure them both that she’s fine when she called them yesterday.
Mickey nods slowly. “So in other words, you’re running away?” he grins, regaining my attention.
“Am not,” I snap even though that’s exactly what I’m doing.
He just laughs. “Whatever, man. I’ll stay and look after our runaway liar.” The smirk on his lips is fucking unnerving, deranged, almost. But instead of hanging around and asking exactly what he’s up to, I bolt from my own fucking house like the hounds of hell are hot on my heels.
On my way to Nana, I make a quick stop at her favorite cafe, picking up all her preferred danishes. Then I call ahead to the doorman so he knows I’m coming and that I, as usual, will be driving straight to the parking garage instead of stopping for a visitor badge.
I’m filled with nervous energy, so I don’t bother waiting for the elevator, and instead take the stairs two at a time. Then I push open the door to Nana’s apartment—the one I bought for her with my first big contract signing—and the familiar scent of lavender and oatmeal cookies wraps around me like a comforting embrace.
Her living room is bathed in the morning sun, gleaming off polished surfaces and expensive trinkets I know she never uses. “Darling Soren.” Her voice, frail but warm, pulls at something deep inside me. I turn to see her standing there, leaning slightly on an elegant cane that looks more like a decorative piece than a necessity. “Did I know you were coming?” she asks, sounding confused.
The lines on her face tell stories of laughter and a lifetime’s worth of wisdom, her almost black hair tied neatly into a bun, those green eyes mirroring mine—with a spark that age hasn’t managed to dull.
“Hey, Nana.” The words come out softer than I expect, my throat tightening as I take in her pale appearance. “No, you didn’t. But I missed you,” I beam at her.
“Aww, isn’t that nice,” she says softly. “Come here, let me get a look at you.” She beckons me closer with a gnarled hand.
I cross the room in three long strides. My arms envelop her in a gentle hug, feeling the fragile bones beneath layers of clothes. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can stay, help out around here… or hire someone…” I trail off, knowing full well what her answer will be.
“Enough of that, Soren,” she chides, pulling back to give me a stern look that could still make a grown man squirm. “I’m fine. Better now. You’ve done more than enough, buying me this place, checking in all the time.”
To Nana, what little I’ve done is more than enough. To me, it’s not enough—it can never be enough when it comes to her. “Can’t help it,” I murmur, my gaze dropping to the floor. “You’re all I’ve got.”
“Ah, but I’m tough,” she insists, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “It’ll take more than old age to keep me down.”
Whenever I visit Nana, I’m transported back to a part of my life where I felt like everything was out of control. Much like I’m feeling with Gail and the baby—Fet as we should all call it, apparently. Maybe coming here today wasn’t the best idea, but I needed to see Nana.
“So you’re really okay?” I ask again.
“I’m okay,” she replies softly, placing her hand on my cheek. “I’ll be better when you show me what you’re hiding in your hand.” She points at the paper bag I’d all but forgotten I was holding.
I follow Nana into the kitchen, where the tea is already brewing in her gold-rimmed tea pot. She keeps telling me to quit it when I try to take over, so I end up leaning against the fridge while watching her place the danishes and some oatmeal cookies on a plate that matches her tea pot. But I put my foot down when she tries to carry the tray, and she relents. Though not without huffing something about my stubbornness.
Takes one to know one, I suppose.
When we’re back in the living room, I place the tray on the table and pour us both some tea. Then I unapologetically shove two of her famous oatmeal cookies into my mouth.
“Only two this time?” she quips, raising her eyebrow at me while she reaches for a danish.
I smile widely, knowing it bothers her when I eat like this. “I can go for three next time,” I laugh once I’m done chewing.
“Soren, you were raised better than that,” she scolds me. We both fall quiet at the mention of being raised since neither of us speaks to the people who… well, raised me.
“You would know,” I mutter, feeling like I need to say something.
She smiles, her green eyes meeting mine, mirrors reflecting a shared past. Together, we take a walk down memory lane. Nana recalls her fondest memories, and where she has gaps, I fill them in. It’s a thing we do, and I know she loves talking about the past. And honestly, I don’t mind it at all, but even if I did, I’d indulge her. I owe this woman everything, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.
“You’ve always had such a big heart,” she says, squeezing my hand. Her touch is frail, yet filled with a strength that defies her age. “Speaking of hearts,” Nana begins, her tone shifting. “What about yours, Soren? And your parents?”
I stiffen, feeling the old wounds tug at my insides. “You know how that story goes,” I say, trying to keep my voice light despite the way my stomach plummets.
Nana sighs, her disappointment clear even as she attempts to hide it behind concern. “I just don’t want you to live with regret, dear. Reconciliation can heal—”
“Like you reconciled with Dad?” I interject softly, not willing to let her deflect.
Nana’s eyes are soft, but there’s a steel in them that I’ve only ever seen when she talks about my parents. “When your mother and father failed you, they failed me. They forgot that family should always come first.” Nana’s voice is coated with disappointment so thick it could choke you. “After Ryan died, they should’ve been here for you, not just physically, but emotionally, too.”
I nod, feeling the familiar sting of their abandonment and blame like a fresh wound. The day my twin died was the day I lost my parents. Although it took them a few weeks to actually tell me they thought it was my fault Ryan fell through the ice and drowned, I felt it the second Dad pulled my twin’s lifeless body from the water.
We both knew we weren’t allowed to go skating on the ice, but we did it anyway. Even though we’d done it plenty of times, that day we didn’t get away with it.
I feel the weight of the past press down on my chest, heavy with the burden of guilt that’s been my constant companion since I was fifteen. It seeps into my bones, a reminder of the blame that was thrust upon me by the very people who should have held me tightest in the aftermath.
Rationally, I know the accident wasn’t my fault. But hearing your parents shout that it was, cancels any logic. Words spat out in anger and grief, branding me as the one who lived when I should have looked after my twin. It’s why I ran away only a month later and moved in with Nana.
“Blood doesn’t obligate you to forgive their failures,” Nana continues, her gaze unwavering. “I love you enough for both of them, Soren. Always have, always will.”
“Thanks, Nana,” I say, my throat tight. “Love you, too.”
I swallow hard, pushing down the rising tide of emotions as I meet her nearly green eyes, so much like mine. Her frail hand reaches out, and I hold it between my calloused ones, feeling the fragility of her bones against my strength.
We sit in a comfortable silence that stretches beyond emptying the pot of tea, even the second and third one I brew so she doesn’t have to get up. As the clock on the wall ticks away, and the light from outside changes from warm hues to colder ones, Nana turns on the TV and picks up whatever it is she’s knitting. Maybe another sweater.
I’m content sitting on the couch, watching her. There’s something about being in her presence that makes my thoughts shut the hell up, and today, that’s exactly what I need.
Looking up from her project, Nana takes my hand. “You know,” she says, her voice soft. “Ryan would be so proud of you for living your life, darling.”
The mention of Ryan’s name sends a shiver down my spine, and I can feel the ice from years ago creeping into my veins. The memory of Ryan’s laughter echoes in my mind, a haunting melody I can never escape. I hate talking about him, yet I can’t bring myself to shut Nana down.
“Life dealt you a tough hand,” she says, squeezing my hand gently. “But you’ve played it with grace, my boy.”
It makes me feel like a fraud that she thinks that highly of me. It’s true that I usually try to do the right thing, be a decent person and a great grandson. But lately… I’m not so sure I can say that’s true. Not with how I’ve treated Gail.
“Sometimes I wonder…” My words trail off as I fight back the lump in my throat. Ryan was supposed to be here, living this life with me. Instead, I’m here in Nana’s luxury apartment, surrounded by her love, yet still feeling like half of me is missing.
“Life isn’t about wondering ‘what if,’ Soren,” she chides softly. “It’s about doing the best with what we have.” Nana leans forward, her expression earnest. “And remember, you’re not alone.”
I know I’m not alone; I have Nana, Mickey, Sawyer, and… maybe a baby on the way. Fuck me. But one thing I know for certain now, I need to make an effort to get to know Gail. Not for her, or even for me. Regardless of whether me or Mickey is the dad, we’ll both be in the baby’s life. So I suppose getting to know the mom is only right.
Especially since there’s so much more to her than what meets the eye. The version of her I played with at Cupid’s Court is so far from the one I’ve met when we were out with our mutual friends. Maybe she’s deserving of the benefit of the doubt, but I also know I can’t give her that without Mickey feeling the same way.
Nana pulls me out of my reverie when she starts talking about Sawyer and Mickey, asking when she’ll see them again. “I haven’t even met Sawyer’s wife,” she huffs. “I should have met her by now, Soren. This isn’t right.”
I shake my head, a smile playing on my lips. This is so Nana. She loves Mickey and Sawyer like they were her grandsons, too. “Why don’t you come visit soon? I’ll make sure everyone’s there.”
I decidedly don’t mention Gail, as I don’t even know how to explain her. That’s a lie, I do know. I just don’t want to.
Since it’s getting late, I only stay for another hour, long enough to order and eat Chinese. Then I drive Nana to her bingo, dropping her off and making her promise she won’t walk home alone. I know she has this mantra that for as long as her legs will carry her, she wants to walk, but I don’t like the idea of her walking alone at night.
After I drop her off, I preorder an Uber, paying extra to make sure it’s there half an hour before bingo ends. Then I drive through the muted streets until I reach the graveyard, and with the help of my phone’s flashlight, I quickly find my twin’s grave.
“Hey, Ryan,” I rasp, running my hands across the smooth marble of the gravestone.
I usually take Nana here every second month, but this is the first time I’m here by myself. The thought of going has never appealed to me, but tonight, I know I need it. And as I look up at the stars, I tell my twin everything that’s on my mind.
Once I’m done, I feel lighter than I have in, well, years. I don’t believe in an afterlife, Heaven, or even Hell. But if there really is anything after we draw our final breath, maybe the calm I’m feeling now that I’ve gotten everything off my chest is a gift from my brother.
“I miss you so fucking much, Ry,” I croak, swallowing harshly. “You woulda known what to do.” Since I’m completely alone, I allow the tears in my eyes to fall rather than blinking them away.
I once watched a documentary on grief and loss where they talked about the martyr complex. It wasn’t in the way it’s usually used, but more about how it’s applied to people that died before they could make any lasting mistakes—in other words, people that died young.
As I’m standing here by myself, I can’t help but wonder if that’s what I’ve subconsciously been doing with Ryan since he died. If there’s such a thing as the good twin, Ryan’s automatically been cast in that role, because he died. But if I’m honest with myself, he was no fucking saint.
I’m pretty sure he was a bit of a bully, and he was definitely not the nicest to the girls at school. Sure, he was only fifteen when he died, but that didn’t stop him from dating two or three girls at the same time.
Shit, I haven’t thought about that in years. In fact, I haven’t given any thought to any of my brother’s mistakes. The second he died, though, his score was reset, and everything bad was forgotten.
The wind picks up, making some of the leaves around me rustle as branches swoosh back and forth. “If that’s you, Ry, you’re still a dick,” I chuckle.
I wish I could say that being here, and spending the day with Nana, has given me some kind of clarity, but it hasn’t. Not really. All it’s done is cement the fact I need to talk some fucking sense into Mickey, somehow make him see that his greatest fear coming to life isn’t the end all be all.
Deciding it’s time to go home, I get back in the car and turn the radio on, hoping some mindless tunes will quiet my brain. It seems to work because before I know it, I’m parked in front of my house.
It’s completely dark and quiet as I slip through the front door, my mind a tempest of emotions. The silence of the house settles on me like a cloak as I let my feet carry me upstairs. Instead of heading straight to my bedroom, I stop in front of Gail’s room.
I push the door open without a sound, the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains casting shadows across her sleeping form. And there he is—Mickey—curled up behind her, as he’s been every night since we were at the doctor’s.
The sheet they share is pooled around their hips, exposing her naked upper body. Mickey’s hand is on her naked breast, and I wonder if he’s the one who undressed her, or if she did it willingly. Hmm, is she completely naked?
My breath catches as a dark cocktail of possessiveness and raw desire floods me. Unable to just stand here, I peel back the sheet, which is enough to see she’s not wearing any clothes at all. I catch sight of Mickey’s fingers buried deep in Gail’s heat. Just the sight of it, makes my cock throb with need.
It’s a craving that grips me by the balls—a fierce, primal hunger that demands satisfaction.
I’m already hard as rock, my control slipping away as the dominant beast within awakens. Without hesitation, I unzip my jeans and free my aching dick from my briefs, wrapping my fingers around its girth.
“God, what I wouldn’t give to taste you right now,” I whisper into the shadowed room, my voice laced with lust and darkness.
My hand moves, the friction of my calloused skin against my shaft sending jolts of pleasure coursing through me. I imagine it’s Gail’s mouth wrapped around me, her tongue swirling, her blue eyes locked onto mine.
“Shit,” I grunt, my other hand bracing against the wall for support as my strokes become more urgent, rougher.
My hips jerk involuntarily as I chase the high, the edge coming fast and hard. Each pulse of pleasure brings me closer to oblivion, to that sweet release where nothing matters but this moment, this all-consuming need.
The pressure builds, a crescendo of raw, untamed lust that threatens to shatter me. I bite back a curse, determined not to wake them, to keep this stolen moment secret. Just as I’m about to nut, I slip the tip of my cock into her mouth. Even in her sleep, she’s a good whore—her tongue caresses the head, and I’m fucking done for.
I come, my release spilling into her hot mouth, spurt after spurt filling her, and once I’m done and pull away, I watch her swallow. The only evidence of what I just did, is a small glob of cum trailing down the corner of her mouth to her chin.
Breathless, I watch them a moment longer, the sight of Mickey’s fingers still buried in her tight cunt is enough to make me want to go another round. A devilish smirk plays on my lips as I tuck myself back into my jeans. I retreat from the room, closing the door with a soft click.