TWENTY-ONE
KIERAN
“What’s up, sis? You good?”
The words stumbled out of my mouth the second I hit the bottom of the stairs. What the actual fuck, Kieran? Keep it smooth.
Jessa’s eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Why are you being weird?”
“I’m just asking if you’re OK.”
“You’re so full of shit,” she snapped. “Should I ask if Amelie is OK? Or, let me guess—she’s more than OK?”
My stomach dropped. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Lying to my twin clearly sucked arse.
Fucker read my mind, “You do get that we’re twins, right? I can sense when something's off.”
With a huff, I pushed past her toward the kitchen. True to form, she trailed right on my heels, her voice a relentless noise in my ear.
My entire body was still vibrating, coming down from the best sex of my life.
Considering it was Amelie’s first time; the girl had come alive in my arms. Soft, breathless, and fitting perfectly against me, like she'd been specifically designed for me. But the lightning still searing through my veins wasn’t just physical.
I had genuine, terrifyingly deep feelings for her.
That’s why it had been incredible. That’s what intimacy felt like when you were actually in love with someone.
Wait. What?
One cue, as if hearing my thoughts, “You had sex with her, didn’t you?” Jessa’s voice cut through the fog.
I ignored her. You’re in love with Amelie Thorn.
A massive, unstoppable grin spread across my face. I completely tuned Jessa out, ripping the fridge door open and grabbing a bottle of water. I twisted the cap so hard the plastic cracked.
“What the fuck are you smiling at? You look like a serial killer,” she fumed, slamming her hand on the counter.
Time to pivot. “All good with Tanner? You were gone a long time.” Deflect, Rook. Deflect.
Bullseye. Jessa’s face went instantly scarlet.
My grin vanished. If I found out Tan had touched her, I’d break every single one of his fingers.
You massive hypocrite, the gremlin on my shoulder mocked.
It took thirty agonising minutes for the takeaway I ordered to arrive, and even longer for Amelie to come downstairs.
When she finally did, Jessa glued herself to us, following us from the kitchen to the hallway, blocking me from saying what I wanted to say to my girl.
I just needed a few minutes alone with her to tell her how I was feeling.
Instead, we ended up trapped in the cinema room with Jessa sitting between us like a human barrier.
"If we're watching another pretentious indie film, I’m leaving," Jessa groaned, throwing her legs over the armrest. "Honestly, why can't we just watch The Notebook? It’s literally perfection."
"Because it’s stupid, sappy shit," I muttered, scrolling through the streaming menu.
"Amelie, back me up here. Please tell me you have taste."
Amelie shifted on her side of the sofa, tucking her knees to her chest. Her eyes flicked to mine. "I fancy a horror," she said, her voice quiet but deliberate. "The bloodier, the better."
A slow, wicked grin tugged at my mouth. Across Jessa’s head, Amelie and I exchanged a long, knowing look.
Yeah. Made for me.
Jessa gagged, completely oblivious. "You two are so full of shit. Whatever, press play."
Over the next hour or so, we had to listen to Jessa talking through half of the movie, but I managed to place my arm over the back of the sofa and make some contact.
I stroked the top of Amelie’s shoulder until Jessa told me to move my arm, as she was too hot.
I wanted to strangle my twin most days, but just then even more so.
Eventually, Amelie fell asleep, and I took the opportunity to slip away.
“Where are you going?” Jessa chuntered, texting on her phone.
“For a piss. Keep going, I’ll be back in a minute.”
Throughout the start of the film, I’d thought about the evidence of what we had done, sitting in the waste bin in Amelie’s room.
If Vanessa saw it, there would be hell to pay.
I needed to get rid of it, make things right with Amelie and be official before we told everyone else.
I had decided that there was no way in hell that I would be sneaking around like I was ashamed of my feelings.
Weston’s comment about not shitting on your own doorstep shot into my head.
Yes, Amelie was living with us, but she wasn’t family by blood, and so there was nothing wrong with us getting together.
What if she doesn’t like you back? I pushed that thought away. I could feel Amelie's affection and was certain it matched mine.
Only one way to find out.
I stuffed the wrapped condom into my jeans pocket to dump outside. As I turned, a notebook on Amelie’s now neatly made bed caught my eye. My dick twitched at the memory of what we had done there.
I leaned over and grabbed the book. It was a diary. Guilt flared as I held that sacred item, but the first scribbled line caught my gaze.
A grin tugged at my lips. Amelie had written about us together, and she’d loved it. Rubbing my thumb across the page where she had doodled little red hearts, the ink smeared, almost like blood. I went to toss it back, but the book slipped, falling open to a page deeper inside. My smile died.
Amelie had documented an argument she’d heard between my stepmother and father about my mother.
Air trapped in my throat. My chest tightened like a fist squeezing my lungs. The words on the page blurred into my last nightmare—the one about my mother’s doctor.
Fuck.
I slammed the book shut and hurled it at the floor. It hit the wall with a dull thud.
Storming into my own room, my knuckles white as I silently seethed. On the dresser, my mother’s photograph stared back at me.
And to think I had made Cameron pay when all that time it was my mother who had been unfaithful.
Fury scalded my chest, blinding and chaotic. Why hadn’t Amelie told me? Keeping that type of a secret was surely a version of lying. And if she could lie about that, what else was she hiding?
I took the stairs two at a time. Halfway down, Jessa blocked the path.
“What’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” I spat, pushing past her.
“Movies finished, I’m hitting the shower,” she called after me, unbothered. “Dad and the guys are pulling up soon, so clear up the kitchen.”
I didn’t answer. I threw open the door to the cinema room.
Amelie was already on her feet, her face flushed pink from sleep. She blinked against the dim light, her expression softening when she saw me. “Hey. How long was I out for?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I stepped into the room, closing the distance until I blocked the exit.
The warmth drained from her face. She retreated a step, her brow furrowing. “Tell you what? About my parents?”
“No,” I snapped. “About mine.”
“I don’t…” She reached out, her fingers brushing my shoulder.
I slapped her hand away. “I read your diary.”
The confusion in her eyes instantly hardened into fire. She swept a stray lock of hair from her face, her jaw tightening. “You did what?”
“Did I stutter?” The words tasted bad in my mouth. The monster was out of his cage, tearing through that magic we’d built only hours before. I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t care. The need to vent was palpable.
“You had no right, Kieran. None.”
“I need to get out of here,” I muttered, the walls suddenly closing in. I spun on my heel.
“Kieran, wait!” Her voice chased me down the hall. “Please! I couldn’t tell you. It wasn’t my truth to share—surely you see that?”
I snatched my keys from the hook by the front door, and the metal bit into my palm.
“Don’t drive like this,” she begged, following me out into the humid air. “Please, just stay and talk to me.”
“Go back inside,” I ordered, throwing open the driver's side door. I jammed the key into the ignition, my hands shaking so violently that the metal scraped against the walnut dashboard.
Through the glass, Amelie’s face blurred with tears, her palms pressed against the window.
I threw the car into reverse and slammed the accelerator. The tyres shrieked, tearing rubber over the gravel. I swung the wheel toward the iron gates, only to see the heavy grille of my father’s car turning into the driveway.
I swerved, missing his front bumper by inches. The brakes wailed as I corrected the slide, the engine roaring a protest as I rocketed out onto the main road.
In the rearview mirror, two images burned into my mind: my father’s face, frozen in horror behind his windscreen, and Amelie, a small, weeping figure shrinking into the dust of my driveway.
* * * * *
The emotions powering through me were nothing like the grief of my recurring nightmares. This time, I felt angry, blind and stupid. My mother’s private doctor appearing in my dreams made a sick sense now—Dr Michael Astor was never just her physician.
My throat tasted like ash as I stared down at her headstone, betrayal thumping hard against my ribs. It was the first time I had visited the cemetery in the dark, but the pathways were well-lit. The place still looked as gloomy and depressing as fuck.
I knew I had company when the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
"How did you find me?" I didn't look back.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel. My father moved into my periphery; his eyes fixed on the grey stone. "Amelie. She said you’d be here."
I let out a cold, humourless laugh. "Clever girl.
" I knew it was uncalled for, but I still felt like she had been lying to me. Amelie had known all that time that it was my mother who had cheated on my father, and yet she said nothing. That bit still burned, but I knew I couldn’t continue to blame her for her silence.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Cameron’s hand twitch. He lifted it toward my shoulder, hesitated, and dropped it back to his side. Daddy dearest clearly had second thoughts about touching me, good man. "I’m sorry, son."
"Why didn’t you tell me?" I rolled my shoulders, trying to break the suffocating tension in the air.