Chapter 37
The ice clinked against Tori’s glass as she lifted it, condensation cool against her palm. The afternoon sun warmed her shoulders through the thin fabric of her sundress, but the breeze off the water carried just enough chill that she was grateful for the denim jacket draped over her lap.
“Okay, that one.” She pointed her glass toward a gleaming white yacht moored three slips down. “Sea-duction. Really?”
Blade followed her gaze. “I picture . . . a thick mustache. Expensive shirt half unbuttoned to show off the gold chain buried in his chest hair.”
She snorted.
“What about that one? Number five down there.” Blade pointed. “Knot Working.”
“I picture a captain’s hat with scrambled eggs on the brim and a man who calls everyone ‘matey.’” She took a sip of sweet tea, the tartness making her pucker.
Blade shook his head. “Probably has a trembling chihuahua that gets seasick.”
“I always wanted a dog.” She traced the rim of her glass with her finger. “But I pictured myself with something massive. Like, as big as I am. One I could train as an emotional support dog, take with me to help patients relax.”
“I can see that.”
“Maybe a chihuahua wouldn’t be so bad. One of those with long hair and pointy ears. Could keep my lap warm during those long movie marathons.”
“That you’d both sleep through.”
“Don’t start.” She threw a wad of the straw wrapper at him.
“I always pictured you with a rottweiler,” Blade said, grinning. “But I can totally see the chihuahua. Sassy. Fits in your purse. Wears cute outfits. And the best part, small dog, small poop.”
Laughter bubbled up from deep in her chest. Real laughter. When was the last time she’d done that? They’d been so buried in the case, in survival mode, that it felt like ages.
Heat collected in her ribs, and her fingers twitched against the tabletop, an impulse screaming to close the short distance, to lay her hand over his. Anchor him, anchor herself.
If she were honest, really honest, she was stalling. Buying time to gather courage to admit her feelings.
To her, Blade wasn’t just her protective big brother anymore, the one who’d teased her about movie marathons and made her laugh until her sides ached.
He was the man whose hand she wanted to reach for across the table.
The man whose smile made warmth bloom in places she’d kept carefully guarded.
The man she’d fallen head over heels in love with.
The man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
And he deserved to know.
She checked her watch instead. Five minutes late.
Down the sidewalk, a family of tourists had discovered the fish-feeding station. The father dumped a handful of pellets into the water while his kids shrieked with delight as dozens of fish swarmed to the surface, their mouths opening and closing in a frantic ballet.
“Look at that,” Tori said, watching a little girl in a pink sun hat drop her entire cup of fish food at once. The water churned white with feeding fish. “Kid just created a riot.”
“Reminds me of the bullpen when someone brings donuts.”
She laughed and nodded to the pelican who landed on the dock railing near their table, eyeing their shrimp and crab dip appetizer.
“Don’t even think about it,” Blade told the bird.
“He’s calculating his odds. Wondering if he can take you.”
“Smart money’s on the pelican.”
The breeze shifted, bringing the scent of salt and sunscreen and fried shrimp from the kitchen. Tori shrugged into her jacket, not because she was cold but because the gesture felt comforting.
Three weeks since the Mayfair. Three weeks since Stryker had opened his eyes and the world had shifted back into focus.
The envelope from Harlee still sat on her kitchen counter.
Tori had only opened it two days ago. Every morning she’d walk past it at least ten times before her coffee finished brewing just trying to work up the courage.
Blade looked past Tori, and she watched the smile that spread over his face. “Here he comes.”
Tori turned and saw the man walking toward her in khaki shorts and a linen shirt, wearing dark Ray-Bans and a smile she recognized. Her body did its own thing by standing up.
Dr. Anton Stone reached out before he was even in touching distance and pulled her into a solid hug that didn’t let up. “This is incredible,” he said into her hair. “Utterly, impossibly, amazingly incredible.”
Tori took a deep breath, grounding herself in the reality of hugging her twin brother. All she could say was “I know.”
When he finally released her, he didn’t let go of her hand, like he was afraid he’d lose her forever. He greeted Blade, saying he was a little surprised to see him here.
As they sat and scooted chairs up to the table, Tori explained that Blade was her best friend. She almost said he’d been like a brother, but she couldn’t say it because all she saw now was the only man she could ever love.
Blade took over. “We sorta grew up together, but there’s plenty of time to talk about that. First, we should get Anton a drink and order some real food because the dip isn’t cutting it for me.”
Tori’s stomach fluttered with nerves. She wasn’t sure she could eat, but she ordered a tuna poke bowl knowing that Blade would finish whatever she didn’t eat.
“I’ll have the same thing,” Anton said. Tori thought he looked nervous, his academic composure gone. He was just a man at a life-altering meeting.
Tori coaxed Anton into telling his story.
Anton had no memory of the trauma, only a lifetime of feeling like a piece of him was missing. He had vague memories of being in a “scary hospital for kids” until a kind psychiatrist, who couldn’t find a reason for his committal, adopted him. His wife couldn’t have children.
He was raised with love, with every advantage. But he always knew he was adopted, and his parents had said they knew very little about his background. He put his DNA in every database hoping to find a relative, a clue to his past. He just never imagined he had a sister, much less a twin.
It wasn’t a tearful Hollywood reunion. It was quiet, hesitant, profound. Two strangers, bound by blood and tragedy, taking the first, tentative step toward becoming family.
Tori had no memory of their shared past either, but she too had felt like something was missing. She told Anton that one day they would talk about it, maybe even write about twin connections, but for now, she just wanted to know Anton the man.
As Tori sat across from Anton, this quiet, kind, intellectual man who was the antithesis of the monster she was led to believe her brother had become, a thought bloomed in her mind like light breaking through storm clouds.
The enemy had come in the night and sown weeds among the wheat. And from the moment she read the case file, she’d believed the lie. That the wheat had been twisted into something monstrous. That her brother had become a creature of violence and madness.
But Stryker had understood the wisdom of the harvest. He hadn’t tried to rip the weeds from the soil in his haste to protect her. He’d simply sheltered the field and waited, knowing that truth would separate itself from deception when the season was right.
And now, here he was. Not a weed. Not a tare. The good seed. Grown true despite the darkness that had tried to choke it out.
“You’re staring,” Anton said, his smile gentle.
“Sorry. I’m just . . .” She shook her head.
“The files made it sound like I was a very disturbed child.”
“Fabricated,” Blade said. “All of it. Part of a cover-up to hide what really happened that night.”
Anton’s hand tightened around his water glass. “What really happened?”
Tori glanced at Blade, then back to her brother. “Our parents were murdered. You and I were witnesses. The people who were supposed to protect us betrayed us. One was the real killer.”
The color drained from Anton’s face. “Witnesses.”
“You were four years old, hiding under the bed with a kitchen knife because you were trying to protect me.” Tori’s voice caught. “You weren’t a killer. You were a terrified little boy who loved his sister.”
Anton stared at the table for a long moment. When he looked up, his eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I always wondered why I became a psychiatrist. Why I was drawn to helping adults work through a childhood filled with trauma. Maybe some part of me remembered.”
“Maybe,” Tori said softly.
The waiter brought their food, but none of them moved to eat. The moment felt too fragile, too sacred to interrupt with something as mundane as lunch.
“What happens now?” Anton asked.
Tori looked at this man who shared her genetics, her earliest memories buried so deep neither of them could reach them. Then she looked at Blade, steady and patient beside her, the anchor she’d never known she needed.
“Now we figure out how to be a family,” she said.