Chapter 1 Lily
LILY
Grief is a funny thing, isn’t it? It can take the person you love most in the world and make you hate them.
It makes you hate them so fucking much, because the only thing you can feel is the giant, gaping hole in your chest that their absence created.
And I hate my twin brother Logan, more than I have ever hated anybody.
He wasn’t supposed to leave me like this, he was supposed to be here, by my side, navigating this fucked-up life alongside me.
That’s what he said he would do. In fact, that’s what he promised he would do when we were five years old, and we were ushered into a room at the hospital and told both of our parents were dead.
We were orphaned in the space of one fucking night, and with no other living family to take us on, we were thrust into the foster system, and all we had left was each other, our bond, and that fucking promise.
Now I’ve lost him too. So fuck my twin for dying, but fuck him even more for breaking his promise, and letting me down worse than anybody ever has.
I tip the last remnants of vodka into my mouth and let the bottle roll to the floor, as I lay back on my couch and stare at the ceiling through blurred eyes, so desperate to just drown.
Eleven months and twenty days. That’s how long it’s been since he died, and I’m so sick of people fucking telling me it will get better.
That time heals all wounds, and that he wouldn’t want me to be throwing my life away like this.
It’s fucking bullshit, all of it, time doesn’t heal anything, not when the one person you shared everything with has been ripped away from you.
Logan was my person, don’t they get that?
He was the only one in this entire world who truly understood me, who fucking saw me, all of me, and loved me anyway.
It didn’t matter what I said or what I did, he had my back, no matter what, and now he’s gone, I have no one.
That thought barely takes hold in my mind before I hear the front door of my apartment open and close, followed by the firm pad of footsteps heading straight for me, and I close my eyes and will myself to disappear into despair.
I wish I had no one.
Logan and I only spent a few months in foster care before the Roytons found us and made us their own.
Arthur and Helen Royton were kind, successful, wealthy people, who had never been blessed with the gift of children of their own, so they decided to adopt.
They are the blueprint for perfect parents, and not just on paper, and they chose us, both of us, keeping us together as brother and sister, giving us a life we could have only dreamed of.
And the cost? The death of our real parents.
I owe them everything, more than they could ever know, and I wish it was them here to check on me, but it’s not.
It’s my brother, Zack, my adopted brother, the first child our parents welcomed with open arms and made their own.
The good one, the successful one, the one not completely fucking falling apart after our brother’s untimely death, and my worst nightmare.
He’s here to check on me before bed, just like always, like I’m a child that needs to be observed in case I do something stupid, and to him I guess I am.
Which is funny, because the twin that did something stupid isn’t here anymore, and I’m the one left to deal with the fall out.
He’s not the brother I want or need, and still I love him, but that’s the problem.
The feelings I have for him, the ones that I bury into the deepest pits of my soul, are not sisterly at all, and like a coward I remain still with my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.
I can’t do this with him, not right now, not when the constant worry and disappointment in his stare every time he looks at me, tears me apart.
Zack Royton was nine years old when Logan and I came barreling into his life, and I can still remember the first time I saw him.
His messy blond hair, his inquisitive blue eyes, he was sitting at the bottom of the stairs of our new home, watching us fiercely, and I was instantly entranced.
In the coming weeks he welcomed us with open arms, constantly reassuring us that our new parents were good and kind, and that we were safe and wanted.
It was weird to grieve the life we lost with our biological parents, while also experiencing a whole new, better life with the Roytons, and Zack always looked out for us, protected us, loved us.
He loved being our brother, but unfortunately for me, it wasn’t the same way I came to love him.
Now at twenty three years old, I wish I could say I got over the secret crush and love I harbored for him all through my childhood and my teens, but even the loss of Logan didn’t seem to dim my feelings for Zack.
There was a time where I thought I may be able to move past them, a time where I was starting to shove them deeper than they ever have been before.
A time where Max Foster wasn’t just his best friend, but my illicit secret that was turning into so much more than I ever imagined.
And then Logan died and I did what I do best, I pushed him away.
So now here I am, doing absolutely nothing with my psychology degree, living on my trust fund, drowning in my grief, and numbing it with alcohol any chance I get.
Zack sighs as he reaches me, and even with my eyes closed I can see the look that is no doubt on his face.
The one of pity and sorrow, and I’m sure any second another tear is going to splash against my cheek, but I remain silent and still.
The clink of something on the coffee table probably means he just picked up the empty bottle of vodka I polished off, and he sighs again.
“I wish you would stop doing this to yourself, sweetheart,” he whispers, sounding tired like always, but I guess when you are one of the youngest billionaires in the country, you must always be tired.
His fingers brush across my temple, sweeping my hair back from my eyes, and it’s so tender and kind that I almost break. I want to grip his hand and beg him to never let go, to let him stop me from drowning, but all I would do is pull him down with me, and I can’t lose anyone else.
The soft vibration of his phone sounds out between us, and he quickly pulls his hand away to answer it.
“Hello.” He greets whoever is on the other end quietly, listening intently before sighing, “Of course I’m here.
” More silence followed by another sigh, “She’s fine, Mom, don’t worry, she’s fast asleep.
” Another pause, and then another lie. “No, she hasn’t been drinking,” he adds, and I can almost hear the grind of his jaw as he covers for me to our mom, and I feel even worse than I did before.
They don’t deserve this, they don’t deserve me, not when they had Logan.
He was the good twin, the one training to be a doctor, he was going to save lives, he did save lives, just not his own.
The grief from before comes rushing back and I can’t hold back the quiet sob that escapes me, and I feel Zack shoot around.
“You know I will look after her, I always do, but listen Mom, I have to go, I’ve got an early meeting and I need to get to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow,” he tells her, before quickly exchanging goodbyes and hanging up.
“Lils,” he whispers my name like a plea, and all it does is make me cry even more.
“Come here, sweetheart.” His arms are around me, lifting me into his lap before I can even protest, cradling me against him like I am the most precious thing in the world, and he just wants to make my grief disappear.
What he doesn’t realize is that I’m grieving him too, and I’ve never even truly had him, not in the way I want. How fucked up is that?
“I’m fine,” I lie, trying to pull away from him, but all he does is hold me even tighter.
“You’re not fine, and that’s okay.” I almost scoff at his answer, because of course he would say that.
He spends his life living to make sure everyone else is okay, looking after me and our parents, and the rest of our new found extended family, and all it does is remind me of the time a couple of years ago when we almost lost him.
Zack has another sister, a biological one, Elle, and they share the same mother.
He only found out about her because she was hurt by some bad people, but as soon as he did, he dropped everything to go to her, to bring her home to us, welcoming her the same way he did us.
I was away at school a lot during that time, but I saw their sibling bond, it’s so similar to the one I shared with Logan and that’s when I truly knew that I would always see Zack differently.
He wasn’t my brother, he was something else entirely.
After Elle King came into our lives everything changed, the things that happened to her I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, and the secrets she uncovered were enough to bring down a small empire.
She spent four years getting herself better, and then she hunted the people who hurt her.
Erasing them to protect those closest to her, but that’s the problem with war, the casualties are never one-sided.
Zack took a bullet and almost died, and he wasn’t the only life we almost lost, but we survived.
We left that time in our lives littered in scars and trauma, but I thought we were past it, that everything was going to be okay, but it turns out there are always more bad people to replace the ones you make disappear.
We all learned that the hard way, and Logan paid the price.
“None of this is okay,” I snap, hating the war we found ourselves in, and hating even more that Logan didn’t survive it. “He’s never coming back, Zack,” I sob, and I don’t miss the hitch in his breath, as his arms pull me in even closer.
“I know, Lils, I know,” he tells me, rubbing his hand up and down my back, and even the weight of his touch can’t pull me back from the edge.
“I just miss him so fucking much,” I admit, knowing he is the only person in the world I can be this honest with.
“I miss him too, kid,” he sighs, and his words are like a dagger to my heart.
Kid.
The same nickname he has always called me, except now it leaves a bitter taste on the back of my tongue. That’s all I’ll ever be to him, and that’s okay, but letting him console me like this, knowing this is all it will ever be, isn’t.
Forcing back my tears, I push up off him and wipe my face, moving to stand up as I grab the empty bottle from the table, and head to put it into recycling.
“You really don’t have to keep checking on me,” I state pointlessly, knowing that these days he checks on me almost every night, and I don’t miss the sound of his deep exhale, as he stands and follows me into the kitchen.
My steps are less than elegant, and I let my hand grip the island to allow myself to remain upright, as his eyes travel over the full length of me in appraisal. If I were sober it might make me feel something, so thank you to vodka and its numbing magic, I guess.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, sweetheart, that’s all,” he replies gruffly, and I almost roll my eyes, stumbling as I move toward the fridge, and his hand catches my elbow before I can fall.
“Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine,” I grit, snatching my arm away from him, but before I can open the fridge, he slams it shut with his hand.
“Look, you can act out as much as you want, I don’t care.
I just wish you’d leave this apartment to do it.
You want a drink? Go to a damn bar. You want to be sad?
Go cry at a movie. You just need to get out of these four fucking walls.
It makes no difference to me how you do it, but I’m still not going anywhere, that’s what brothers do.
” His words are harsh, but I know his meaning is warm, like him, but like everything else in my life, I ruin it.
“Yeah and sometimes they die,” I spit, before pushing his hand away, snatching another bottle of vodka from the fridge. “Lock the door when you leave,” I add, before storming from the kitchen and slamming my bedroom door behind me.
I wait until I hear the bang of my front door before I let myself break, and like every night since I lost my brother, I force myself to do it all alone.