Chapter 1
The Wildfire Thorn
I find him at The Horny Bard.
It’s one of those seedy bars with loud music, sticky tables, and everything bathed in red neon light. It’s never been my favorite place to hang out in Bardstown, but apparently is very popular among the soccer players.
Including him.
This is probably not the ideal place for me to do what I’ve come to do. I probably should wait until I can get him alone. But the longer I put off doing the right thing, the more time I have to do the wrong thing.
The more time I have to do something dangerous.
Because that’s what I am, aren’t I?
I’m dangerous.
I’ve always known that. I’m like my father. I’m a danger to my family.
But what I didn’t know was that I’m a danger to her as well. I’m a danger to her heart, like she said. I’m a danger to her happiness. To her happily ever after.
I’ve always considered her a threat.
A threat to my peace. My control. My promise.
A threat because she makes me feel things. She melts the ice around my heart.
And while that may be true, I’m the one who’s gone out of his way to ruin her. I’m the one who’s selfishly tried to use her and abuse her.
Not her.
So she’s not the problem. I am.
In fact, I realized something. I realized she’s the girl who makes my heart race. But not in the way my anger does. She doesn’t make the world disappear or she doesn’t make my vision blurry. I don’t have to look for a grounding object to get control of myself, no.
She makes the world bright. She brings the world into focus. When I’m with her, I don’t feel like I’ll burst out of my body. I feel like I can feel it for the first time. The heat on my skin. The air in my lungs. The blood in my veins.
I feel human.
I don’t know why I didn’t realize that before. Maybe because I was so focused on running away from her, so focused on keeping her at a distance, blaming her, being angry at her and the fact that she makes me feel when I don’t want to, that I never focused on the feeling itself.
I never focused on the fact that when I focus on her, I’m grounded.
She’s my grounding object.
And I have to protect her, don’t I?
She’s a treasure. A rare fucking treasure that I need to guard with my life.
So this is it.
This is how I do it.
He’s in his usual nook in the back of the bar. It’s hidden by a brick pillar and is made of plush leather couches. And as expected, they’re occupied by his—our—high school friends. Ark Reinhardt, an ex-soccer player who went pro for a couple of years but blew out his knee and now runs a security company, The Fortress, along with a very famous boxing gym in town; Homer Davidson, another ex-soccer player, but he never chose to go pro in favor of following in his father’s footsteps and taking over the family business; Byron Bradshaw, who did choose to go pro and currently plays for Seattle. He’s in town because we’re playing against his team the day after tomorrow.
Anytime we’re all in town or are close by, they insist on getting together. While I’m not much for hanging out with people, it’s one of the very few get-togethers I don’t dread. However, I’m not here to meet and chat people up.
So as soon as I reach their nook, I slide the phone out of my back pocket and set it down on the table.
Right in front of Shepard.
He’s been watching me approach the group—they all have been—but while they all had looked relaxed before, well, except Shepard maybe, they don’t now. They read the tightness in my frame, the determination in my eyes.
“This belongs to you,” I tell Shepard.
He’s in the middle of taking a sip of his beer when his gaze shifts to the phone on the table. I know the instant he recognizes it as his phone. His entire body tenses, a light frown appearing between his brows. He slowly lowers the bottle, his eyes glued to it for several seconds.
Then, looking up, “That’s my phone.”
I shift on my feet. “It is.”
His eyes are slowly getting dark.
For being identical twins, there’s a tiny difference between him and me. I don’t think people notice that; well, she probably does, but that’s not the point. The point is that his eyes are a touch lighter than mine. So when he gets angry, you can see them getting darker and darker by the second.
While mine always remain dark.
“Where’d you get it?” he asks, slowly and softly setting his beer bottle down on the table beside it.
“I found it,” I tell him truthfully. “In the locker room.”
“When?”
“The night I benched you.”
“That’s the night I lost it.”
“Yeah.”
He watches me for a few seconds, his breaths still even, but like the darkness in his eyes, they’re getting heavier. “So what, you had my phone this whole time?”
“I did, yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because”—I take a deep breath and fist my fingers—“for the last six weeks, I’ve been using it behind your back. I’ve been using your phone to pretend that I am you. To lie.” Then, “To her.”
Even though I’m completely focused on my brother, I can see movement in my periphery. I can see Ark shifting; Byron straightening up from his sprawl; Homer fidgeting with his crisp tie. I can even hear them mutter things. Ark cursing; Byron whistling under his breath and Homer, being closest to me in nature, simply holding his silence, but I can sense his gaze sharpening.
The only person who hasn’t moved or said anything is my twin brother.
It’s coming, though.
It’s going to happen.
Because unlike her, he believes me. I can see that.
I can see that he believed every word I said.
Good.
Slowly, he stands up.
Again, I see movements in my periphery; Ark’s coming to his feet as well. Byron too. Ark and Byron and Shep were inseparable back in high school. All three of them were soccer gods and popular as fuck. All of them never backing down from a fight. With Ark’s tatted up body and Byron’s heavy muscles, no one messed with them at school. I know they’re both doing it to be on the ready, to have Shepard’s back. Homer stands up as well, but given that we used to be the closest to each other in the group, he’s probably doing it for me.
They don’t need to do that; I’m not here to fight or fight back.
Not only because I will never fight my brother, my family, but because I’m here for the exact opposite reason: surrender.
“You’ve been using my phone,” he begins, his voice low, eyes now completely dark, “behind my back.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been doing that to pretend. To lie to her that you are me.”
“Yes.” I nod. “She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know that the guy she’s been talking to these past weeks is me. That she’s been talking to the wrong twin. She’s got no clue and?—”
He pounces on me then.
And given his reflexes, it happens in a flash.
One second, he’s on the other side of the table and the next, he’s upon me. He’s got his hands in my collar, and he’s pushed me several paces back until my back thumps against the pillar. And with him, come our three other friends, who simultaneously grab Shepard and try to pull him off me.
I address them all in general. “It’s okay. You can let him go.”
They don’t.
But before I can insist, Shepard thumps my back against the pillar once more and gets up in my face. “You’ve been pretending to be me.”
I keep my fists at my sides and reply as calmly as I can against the jarring pain in my back, “Yes.”
Another shove against the pillar. “To get with my girl.”
“She’s not your girl, though,” I say, again as calmly as I can.
He tightens his fist in my collar. “What’d you say to me?”
“Shep,” Ark warns, his tatted hand on Shep’s collar, his green eyes alert, “let him the fuck go, okay? Let your brother go.”
Byron pulls at Shepard too. And given how strong Byron is in addition to rumors about his steroid use, Shep should move back, but it’s the testament to my brother’s hatred and anger that no one can make him budge.
In fact, he tightens his hold even more and gives me another shove. “Say that again.”
I grit my teeth against the pain. “I know.”
“Yeah, what’d you know?”
“About the ultimatum.”
His features still for a second before rippling with rage and I can’t help but envy him. I envy him for being able to display his emotions so freely. I envy him for having that freedom.
I fucking envy him.
Which is strange because I’ve never done that.
For all my crimes against him, I’ve never envied him, begrudged him his freedom. In fact, I’ve always been grateful that it was me and not him or any of my other siblings. Yes, Ledger has issues with anger, but they’re not as big as mine. And for all the ways I’m wrong, I’ve always been grateful that it’s me and not them.
Not my twin brother.
“I know what the world thinks isn’t true,” I continue. “What I thought isn’t true.”
He clenches his jaw. “You shut your fucking mouth.”
“And you never corrected anyone, you never corrected any assumptions because either your ego didn’t let you or because you wanted it to be true so badly that you didn’t mind the deception. Either way?—”
This time, his retaliation comes in the form of a punch.
A hard jab to my left jaw.
At which point all three of them try to calm him down but to no avail. They try to pull him away, but Shepard doesn’t budge. His anger is too much in this moment and I can see that.
I understand that.
For the first time ever, I empathize with him.
I’d do the same thing if I were him. I’d beat the shit out of me too.
“Either way, you love her,” I say, wiping the blood off my mouth.
“Yeah, I fucking do, you asshole,” he growls.
“So—”
“And if you think you’re going to take her away from me, I’ll?—”
“I’m not,” I tell him truthfully.
“Yeah?”
Looking him in the eye, I state, “I told you before: she’s yours. She’ll stay yours.”
“So then why the fuck did you go after her? Why the fuck”—he gets closer to me even more—“did you go behind my back and lie to her?”
Because I’m an asshole.
Because I’m selfish.
Because I thought it would solve all my problems, these unruly feelings that I don’t know what to do with. And because what I told her the other night is true. Until I said it to her, I hadn’t known. Why I pretended, why I lied. There was no reason for me to do that. There was no reason for me to carry on the deception past that first night.
And the answer is that I did want to get to know her.
I couldn’t do that as Stellan. The man with hidden anger and control issues. The man always on the edge. The man who has to cage himself, leash himself tightly in order to keep the chaos inside of him in check.
The man who thought of her as a threat.
But I could do that as Shepard, her best friend. As my twin, I could assume a role, a character, and be with her even if for a little while. I could get to know the girl who’s only ever been out of reach but somehow has been the center of my fucking universe since the moment I saw her.
My Lolita.
My Cherry Lips.
My flame.
Dora.
The girl who torments me and grounds me at the same time.
“It doesn’t matter why,” I tell him.
In response, he twists his fists in my collar for a second before laying another punch on my face. This one was harder than the first, so it takes me a moment to gather my wits. Spitting out the blood on the side, I pant, “It was wrong and I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have?—”
Another punch.
That not only jars me but also our friends. This time, Byron manages to get Shepard to step back a little but only for a few seconds. And then my twin brother is right where he was, raging and twisting my collar in his fist.
“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” he growls. “I told you, didn’t I? I told you that she’s mine. That if you go near her, I’ll fucking declare war and guess what’s coming, you asshole.”
Again, I wipe the blood off my mouth. “If that’s what will make you feel better, then fine. You can have your war.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “I will.”
“But I won’t fight back.”
A muscle jumps in his cheek.
I know he’s always hated it.
My reluctance to engage, my refusal to rise to his bait.
And while I can’t tell him why I am the way I am, I can tell him this much, “You’re my brother. My twin. And I wronged you. I went behind your back. I betrayed you. You have every right to fight me. You have every right to declare war. Just know that I’ll take it. I’ll take whatever you dish out.”
He keeps his tight grip on me for a second or two.
Then, in an expected turn of events, lets me go.
He spits on the floor, muttering, “Fucking pussy.”
And turns around, ready to leave, when I call out, “Just…” He pauses but still has his back on me. “Just take care of her.”
At this, he turns around. “What?”
“Just…” I breathe out, swallowing. “I lied to her. I deceived her. I hurt her. She’s going to… She’s going to need someone. She’s going to need someone to be there for her. She’s going to need someone to hold her hand, to wipe her tears, to…”
“To what?”
Pain stabs in my chest as I say, “To love her. She needs someone to love her. No one has ever loved her and it fucking blows my mind. She’s…” I swallow again. “She’s different. She’s rare. She’s… everything. She needs to be protected. She needs to be cherished and treasured. So just… treasure her. Give her whatever she wants.”
Because I can’t.
I’m not allowed to. I wouldn’t even know how.
Shepard was right when he said she’s bright and colorful and passionate. And I deliberately lead a dull and colorless life. She’s reckless and I need to be leashed at all times. She’s untamed and I need to be tamed.
She’s fire and I’m wildfire.
I’m not a good fit for her.
But Shepard is.
He keeps watching me for a few seconds, his dark eyes taking my features in. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but if it’s veracity, then he should be able to find it. He should be able to see that I mean every fucking word.
I mean it and I want to set fire to it at the same time.
Because I want to be the one to give her everything.
I want to be the one to protect her.
Me, no one else.
But I’m the thing she needs protection from, so it will have to be him.
I know the exact moment he finds what he’s looking for—I still don’t know what exactly that was, though—as he says, “Stay away from her.”
With that, he leaves, and Byron and Ark follow him.
A small crowd has gathered around the nook and I see a couple of cell phones out. Thankfully, Homer takes the responsibility of waving them away while I gather myself and get ready to leave. Before I can do that, though, he’s back and the way he’s staring at me, I know he has something to say.
I wait and his growled words come out. “What the hell were you thinking?”
I take in a deep breath. “I wasn’t.”
Homer gets his handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to me. “He’s your brother. You don’t do that to your brother.”
“I know,” I reply, taking it and wiping off the rest of the blood.
And I’m guilty.
For going behind his back, for betraying him. But for some insane, unknown, bizarre reason, I’m also not. Because in my twisted head, I still think she belongs to me. I still think he’s between us. He’s the wrong twin not me.
For the millionth time, it doesn’t make sense.
But I can’t shake it away.
It doesn’t matter, though.
It’s over. It’s done.
A different voice interrupts my thoughts. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
It’s Byron.
With his big and broad body, Byron looks more like a football player than a soccer player. And he did play football in school, but he always gravitated toward soccer, so that’s what he chose. Pair that with his dark bun and a full beard, he looks like a lumberjack football player who’s a soccer player. Which is why the media calls him the Big Daddy. Byron ‘Big Daddy’ Bradshaw.
And right now, he looks pissed.
“You don’t fucking do that to your brother.” He keeps growling.
“Already covered that,” Homer says, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
Byron doesn’t move his eyes away from me, though. “I know you guys don’t see eye to eye. Not that Shep would ever tell us why but… Jesus. You’re supposed to be the good twin. The twin who follows all the rules. Who’s so annoyingly good that I always wanted to punch you. What the fuck happened? What the fuck did you do?”
“Apparently I’m just an asshole in disguise,” I say.
Byron stares at me for a few seconds. Then shakes his head. “You need to sort yourself out, you get me?”
I watch him.
I want to punch him too.
I’ve always wanted to punch him because he’s friends with Shepard. Because Shepard trusts him more than he trusts me. As he should, but still.
I want to do the same now too. I want to break his jaw and I know he’ll give back as good as he gets. But I can’t. Shepard needs good people around him. So all I do is reply, “You should be with my brother. He needs you. He needs a friend.”