Chapter Twenty-Eight
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Mark
T he old wooden planks groaned under my weight as I stepped out of the truck. The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting golden streaks over the slow-moving creek below. The wind carried the familiar whiff of damp wood and wild grass, a scent tied to a thousand memories. I inhaled, expecting some solace.
It didn’t come.
I braced my hands against the railing, my gaze falling to the worn carvings in the wood. L + M + E + J Forever. The letters were faded, softened by time, but still there. Just like the past.
This bridge had once been a sanctuary. A place where Lanie, Eliza, Julian, and I could talk about the future like it was something we had control over. A place where everything was easy. Simple.
But now it stood as a reminder of what could have been. I walked to the edge of the creek, bent, picked up a rock, and skipped it across the water, looking but finding no answers in the ripples.
Swallowing against the lump forming in my throat, I could still see her, standing on the porch with my parents—choosing them. Choosing to be there and care, even when I had given her every reason to walk away.
More fucking mature than I’d proven to be.
I left her and my parents. Not enough of a man to face up to what I’d done to Lanie and not a good enough son to tell my parents I didn’t care who I came from—I would always be theirs.
I exhaled sharply and kicked a branch into the water, watching it slowly taken away by the current.
I had a twin.
I had always sensed there was something out there I was supposed to find... Maybe not in words, not in anything I could explain, but deep inside, I had always been pulled to something. The ghost-hunting side of me—the part that never stopped looking for something unseen—it had been searching for Dylan. For the other half of myself.
Why would anyone separate twins?
Why lie to my parents? Someone had because my parents would have never stopped searching for Dylan had they known he was out there.
Fucking Dylan.
Why show up just in time to destroy everything? The timing was too perfect, too cruel. He’d told me he was estranged from his adoptive parents—was this a strategic attempt to destroy my relationship with mine?
Or, maybe, Dylan’s an asshole.
That would be my luck. What the hell did I do to deserve an evil twin?
I raked a hand through my hair, my breath coming hard and uneven. Lanie and I were finally together. This was our chance. Of course the ground would detonate beneath my feet.
Like a hamster on a treadmill, I keep circling back to fucking up.
I shook my head. No. That kind of thinking had stopped me from fighting for my scholarships—stopped me from fighting for Lanie. I didn’t think I deserved either.
Why?
Had part of me known I was living a lie?
Something my mother said to me echoed in my mind. Sometimes proving you care means showing up, even when you don’t have the words.
Lanie had done that for me.
Even after everything, she had stepped onto that porch, her own pain shoved aside so she could be there for my parents. That’s proof of who she is.
And what did I prove? That I could tell her I wanted her by my side, had always wanted her with me, only to leave her the first time life shit on me.
To give myself a little credit, it’s not every day a man discovers not only he’s an idiot, but he’s also adopted, and his twin is a twat.
My lips twitched as humor, perhaps as a survival mechanism, nipped at me. I’d never said twat in my life, but I’d also never had a twin before, so maybe it’d be my new favorite word. My twin the twat. My twat twin.
I rubbed a hand over my face.
You’re losing it. Focus.
And not all of it was Dylan’s fault.
I clenched my fists and turned my gaze to the water. It flowed on, steady, constant, untouched by the chaos unraveling inside me. I could blame every one of my fuck-ups on the lie that had been told me about who I was.
I could sit in that place and people might even give me the grace to wallow there for a while. But that wouldn’t get me the life I wanted.
I refuse to lose Lanie again.
I was no longer afraid to expand our maple syrup business, with or without Dylan. He challenged me to figure out how to fill those orders and I did it. We did it. Not just my parents but my friends.
I wasn’t alone.
I wasn’t a fuck-up.
I had a lot to offer Lanie.
All I had to do was believe in us.
And I ran. Again.
I needed to go back.
Back to my parents, back to Lanie. Back to whatever the hell comes next.
I turned on my heel and strode toward my truck, my resolve solidifying with each step. I knew what I wanted and Lanie deserved to hear it from me—unfiltered through someone else or the protection of the past. Just her and me.
Honest and real with each other.
I was crossing the street to my truck when I heard a car approaching. I wasn’t worried because it was still light out and there was plenty of time for the car to see me. The engine roared and the car sped up.
My preoccupation with my thoughts was put aside and I looked around. What’s your hurry buddy? Are you running from someone? Racing someone?
Damn kids.
I couldn’t really judge them. This long stretch of road had tempted a younger me into testing the speed of my vehicle as well.
When it swerved in my direction, instinct kicked in and I dove behind my truck with such power I rolled across the asphalt and onto the grass.
What the fuck?
I jumped back to my feet, ignoring the sting of the scrapes on my bare arms. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might break through my ribs. For a second, I just stood there, breath coming in ragged bursts, trying to process what the hell happened.
Someone tried to run me down.
My first thought was Dylan—was he coming back to finish what he started? But no. That wasn’t his car.
It could have been a drunk driver, but I would have sworn the driver aimed for me.
Today was definitely not my day.