Chapter Twenty-Six
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Lanie
T he moment we pulled into the driveway, I knew something was wrong.
Mark went rigid beside me, his face turning white as he stared at the sleek, unfamiliar car parked beside his parents’ truck. Something expensive. Something out of place in this town.
I turned toward him, searching for an explanation, but his expression had gone unreadable. Masked. And that sent a ripple of unease through me.
A man stood on the porch, his hands in his pockets as he spoke to Mark’s parents. From this distance, I could only make out his posture—rigid and businesslike. Like he was waiting impatiently for something.
Mark put the car in park but didn’t move.
My unease grew sharper.
I unbuckled my seatbelt, my pulse ticking faster as I studied the man again, trying to place what felt so... off. He shifted slightly, turning enough for the sunlight to hit his face.
Holy shit.
I froze. A breath lodged somewhere between my ribs.
He looked exactly like Mark.
Not similar. Not a passing resemblance.
Exactly.
A coldness swept through me. My fingers curled against the door handle, trying to anchor myself to something solid, but the world had already started to tilt beneath me.
Beside me, Mark inhaled sharply—like he’d been bracing for this moment. And then, finally, he turned to me.
“I should have told you.”
His voice was low. Regretful.
I turned to him, pulse hammering. “What?”
Mark swallowed. “Lanie, I—”
The words tangled and died before he could get them out. He dragged a hand down his face, his posture going tense, then forced himself to meet my eyes.
“It was unexpected,” he said. “And stupid. And a—”
The breath left my lungs.
I knew that tone. That hesitation. That guilt.
It slammed into me like a tidal wave, dragging me under and straight back to the past.
“The dare?” My voice came out thin, barely a whisper.
Mark winced. “Lanie—”
He reached for me, but I was already pulling away, my skin going ice cold.
The world inside the car went silent, but inside my head, it wasn’t quiet at all.
Laughter. Their laughter. The kind that followed me down the hallways in high school. The kind that cut deeper than any words ever could.
Stupid. Gullible. Pathetic.
The ugly ones always put out.
I was in high school again, begging my mother not to send me to school because of the rumors after the prom. No wonder she rushed us to Portsmouth.
I barely registered Mark getting out of the car. The slam of his door barely penetrated the rush of blood in my ears.
I inhaled sharply, forcing air into my lungs.
I’m not that girl anymore. I refuse to cower.
Forcing my hands to steady, I opened my door and stepped out.
Mark was already halfway up the driveway, his posture tense, like a man walking toward his own execution. His parents had turned to face him, their expressions tight with barely restrained emotion. And in front of them—standing at the top of the porch steps—was him.
Mark’s doppelg?nger. When his cold eyes met mine, I knew without being told that this was the man who had come to Portsmouth.
On a drunken dare.
My stomach twisted. I barely felt the gravel beneath my feet as I closed the distance, my breath coming shallow as realization solidified inside me.
Mark had sent him.
Mark, the man I’d spent the night with... imagined spending many more with.
This clone of Mark’s stepped forward, his gaze flicking between Mark and me, something cautious in his expression. “Hi, Lanie.”
Between clenched teeth, I said, “You’re not Mark.”
“No, I’m not. I’m Dylan DeVoss.”
He said his name as if it would mean something to me. I shook my head and turned to Mark. “Is this some kind of joke? Because it’s not funny.”
As if I hadn’t spoken, Dylan cut in, “Mark, we need to talk.”
Mark stepped toward me. “Lanie, I was going to tell you today. I thought I had time—”
“You’ll have time to repair your relationship after I tell you what I came to say,” Dylan said dryly.
Mark’s body coiled tight, and he snapped at Dylan, “Not now.”
Dylan held his ground, cool and in control. “Calm your little redneck ass down.”
“That tone has no place on my porch,” Mark’s mother said.
“I’ll use whatever tone necessary,” Dylan said coldly.
Mark’s father put his arm protectively around his wife and said, “Now you’ve crossed a line.”
And that’s when Mark snapped. “Get the hell away from my parents.”
I shifted beside him, unsure of my role in this. Mark’s voice was raw when he looked from his parents to me. “Lanie, please. Let me explain.”
I didn’t move. I didn’t blink.
Joke or dare. I wanted to hear the reason Mark had done it come out of his big fat head. So, I folded my arms across my chest and waited.
Mark waved a warning finger at Dylan then stepped closer to me and lowered his voice. “I didn’t think you still had feelings for me.”
“So, you decided to prank me?”
“No, it wasn’t like that. I met Dylan, realized we looked like twins, and we had a few drinks. Truth be told, we got sloshed, and that’s when I thought—”
“That it would be funny if he pretended to be you?”
“Yes. No. Not funny, but that’s when the idea came to me that he looked enough like me to—”
“Fool me?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “When you say it like that it sounds bad.”
I poked a finger in his chest. “That’s because it is bad.”
“Do you really want to do this in front of us?” Dylan asked with a groan.
Mark spun on his heel and strode over to Dylan. “What the hell do you want? Yeah, you sent business, but I’m so done with you. First, why go to see Lanie at all if you were going tell her about the dare? And then come back and tell me that she doesn’t care about me at all? Why lie? What the fuck did I do to you that you seem hell-bent on punishing me?”
Dylan’s chest puffed and ice shot from his eyes. “You were adopted. We’re twins. And shit just gets weirder and worse from there...”
Mark’s mother gasped then burst into tears against her husband’s chest. His father steadied himself with the railing. I followed my instincts and went to stand with them. Although I was struggling to understand what was happening, Mark’s parents were two of the sweetest people in the world. Mark’s mother turned, her eyes wide and wet, and grasped my hand. A silent plea. A silent question.
I didn’t know what to say. But I squeezed back.
Mark went nose to nose with Dylan. “You can get in your car on your own or I can toss you into it.”
Dylan scoffed. “The truth hurts, but it’s better than spending your whole life being lied to.” In response to the growl Mark made, Dylan adjusted the sleeves of his jacket in a dismissive manner. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. Hear me out.”
“Hear you out?” Mark barked. “Even if anything you’re saying is true, this isn’t how you do it. Get. Away. From. My. Family.”
Raising a hand in mock surrender, Dylan said, “You’re going to wish you’d heard me out.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Mark snapped.
“Whatever,” Dylan turned and walked toward his car. “It was nice knowing you, brother.”
With that, Dylan got into his car, slammed the door, and peeled out of the driveway as Mark watched him go. When he turned back to where I was standing with his parents, he swayed on his feet and his eyes were dark and tormented.
And I might have forgiven him a little bit right then.