40. Forty
Forty
Liam
Ijolt awake from the pain searing across my chest, the familiar throb that's become my nighttime companion since getting shot. It’s about midnight, insomnia hitting hard. Sara's sleeping form curled against me is the only thing that soothes me.
My chest hurts but I'm healing well, that's what Damien and Mateo’s undercover doctor says, anyway. I would’ve had a lot of explaining to do if we didn’t have a system in place for my guys and myself with a doctor on call.
I study Sara's face in the dim light, her dark lashes casting shadows on her cheeks, her full lips slightly parted. I shift carefully, trying to draw her closer without waking her, I need her closer, I always need her closer. She murmurs something unintelligible, her hand instinctively moving to rest on my chest, then pulling back as if remembering my injuries. Even unconscious, she’s careful not to hurt me.
I run my fingers through her hair, this delicate treasure I don't deserve. The weight of everything crashes down on me as I stare at the ceiling. Joe's return has turned our world inside out. My brother, back from the dead after mourning him, burying him, except he was none of those things.
The guilt gnaws at me, I stole my dead brother's girlfriend, and now what? We're supposed to have Sunday dinners together? Act like normal brothers?
I press my lips against her forehead, inhaling her scent like it might be the last time. Because it could be.
The truth is, I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop. The days leading to healing, I've had thoughts I'm ashamed to admit. Pain meds and fever dreams twisted my mind into lingering unease; could I share her with Joe?
The idea made me physically ill, yet for a fleeting moment I considered it. Maybe that's what brothers do when their world turns inside out, and if God forbid that’s what she wants, perhaps it’s what she deserves after everything.
But when I watch her sleep, something primal rises in me.
I've spent too much time lying to myself about Sara, pretending I haven’t wanted her from the very first time I saw her.
I blinded Joe with my disapproval, let Sara believe I hated her when I've always felt this uncontrollable connection to her. I’ve overshadowed myself by rejecting her, but it's not something I can continue doing.
Now the truth claws at my insides; I can't share her body, her laugh, the way she looks at me.
She's mine. But what right do I have to claim her when Joe loved her first?
When I stole what wasn't mine to take? If she chooses him— I can barely form the thought that I would have to let her go, and that would destroy whatever is left of me.
Carefully, I extract myself from Sara's warmth, watching her shift slightly before she settles back into sleep.
"Liam?” Sara murmurs, her voice cloudy with sleep.
“Just getting water,” I whisper, brushing my fingertips against her cheek. “Go back to sleep, baby.”
She nods, already drifting off again. I grab my sweatpants from the floor, wincing as I pull them on.
I get to the living room, hissing through a few steps until I feel accustomed to the pain as I make my way toward the kitchen for water, but pause when I see Joe’s bedroom door open and no sign of him.
Instead, there's a soft glow coming from the office, so I make my way there, softly knocking at the half-open door, and Joe looks up from the computer.
“You’re up.” It’s between a question, an assessment and a judgement that I shouldn’t be walking around despite his surprise and relief.
He came to my room with sandwiches, water and would check on me.
The first few times, I wanted to put my fist through his face.
Break him like he broke me. My rage against him could not be diluted, my heartbreak unbendable, but as the days went by, something shifted in my chest, I felt the pain morphing into a softer reality, one in which he was alive and I didn't take him for granted.
My twin brother, even though born a few minutes before me, hadn’t felt safe enough to come to me before finding no other way than to fake his death.
That carved out half of my soul with a dull blade.
I missed him, but how do you relearn to breathe around someone when you've been drowning in their absence?
I clear my throat, “I couldn’t sleep. What are you doing?” I deign to ask.
We haven’t really had time to talk yet. It’s an awkward packed conversation waiting to happen that was momentarily paused when I got shot and perhaps the only silver lining so I could shuffle through a lot of rage.
“The Velastra manifest. Something doesn’t add up.” Joe rubs at his temples, massaging a tight knot of tension.
I sink into the leather chair across from him. “Kind of like how you didn't add up the cost of your disappearance to the people who love you.” His gaze snaps up to my accusation, and I hold his stare.
“Liam, I did what I had to do to keep her safe."
“And I did what I had to do to keep her whole,” I blurt out. Joe pauses at my words, watching me.
I sit up and take a few steps forward to set my hands on the desk. “She still takes her coffee with two sugars. In case you were wondering.”
His jaw clenches. “And you, Liam? What changed about you, while I was gone? Besides falling for my girlfriend. Who I thought you hated,” he asks, leveling his chin on his hands with elbows on the table.
“Fuck you. You were dead. I kept her together. I’m the one who protected her when you played God with all of our lives.” My words come out bitter. “Why didn’t you talk to me about these poker games? How was I left in the dark?”
“I was going to tell you, Liam. I didn’t know at first that these people were connected to the trafficking, but I got in over my head with them.” He exhales raggedly.
“Who?” My voice comes out as a growl, I’m done messing around.
“That’s the thing, he’s nameless, a ghost. I don’t know who runs the show.
I’ve gotten threats or instructions from some middlemen.
His name Charles Wayne and a few others.
The same men that were on the boat when Sara was on it, and the night underground.
I've kept a track record of all of them since day one, but whoever is behind all of this never shows.”
“How do you know Sara was there those times?” I bark.
“Because I was there.”
A chill runs through me. “You’re the one who shut off the electricity underground?”
“Yes, and I led her to the exit, but she took the wrong path, and for a quick second I noticed a man I hadn’t seen before, so I followed him.” He pauses. “I told you I was protecting her.”
I move up to his face so fast, he barely has time to flinch, but Joe doesn’t back down and he stands up, staring me down.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I hiss in his face.
“If we're going to solve this Velastra case, we need to work together, Liam.” He warns back in my face, and it’s taking a lot of effort to not punch him dead into that casket that has his name on it.
“Oh yeah,” I spit, “how does that work? Like brothers? Like colleagues? Or like two men who love the same woman? Because those are very different things now, Joe.”
“Love. You love her?” he repeats slowly.
Silence stretches between us, except for our ragged exhales, both of us waiting for the other to break. My fists tighten, the only thing keeping my hands from his throat, but deep inside, he’s my only brother. This is seriously messed up.
“All of the above, bro,” he says exhaling, breaking the tension. My jaw unlocks and the vein at my temple pulses.
“Hey…” Sara is at the doorframe, watching us as we both come out of the storm ravaging through us.
Joe flicks his tongue over his teeth. “We didn’t mean to wake you, baby.”
My gaze snaps to him at the endearment, and I’m going to dig up whoever the fuck is underground with his name on it and reorganize the cemetery’s burial Excel sheet.
Sara’s eyes grow wide like saucers.
I observe them and I need to risk asking. “Have you guys—”
“We kissed,” Sara answers as if she needs to get it off her chest, clearing her throat and looking at Joe. My whole-body tenses.
“Liam, it’s not like that. I…” Sara starts and I shake my head when she comes closer, she looks so hurt, but I need a minute to breathe.
“Joe, who did you find out is responsible for the poker games? I need this chase to stop.” I look back and forth between him and Sara to drive my point home. Hopefully, they catch on that I'm calling out whatever is going on between the two of them, too.
Joe sits back down and leans against the desk, looking at the computer screen. While Sara hesitantly walks over to me.
“Did you see the name of the company?” he asks.
“I did the other day but got distracted. Lakemore Chica, right?” I gesture her closer, unable to stop myself from wanting her near me. I sit on the chair, taking her onto my lap.
In unison, Joe and I say, “It’s mom’s maiden name.”
We both look at each other, and the thought lingers of what sick joke this all could mean.
“Which one is her maiden name?” Sara asks, drawing circles on my thigh.
Joe watches the movement of her hand on me, and my dick hardens. Mine.
“Chica,” I reply, kissing her temple.
“There’s only two people who know that name, if they meant to use it for her…” Joe crosses his arms. “And one of them is dead.”
“There’s plenty more people who know that name, Joe. Mom grew up here. It’s a coincidence, that’s all that is.” I grunt, growing irritated.
I push Sara’s hair to the side and trail kisses down her neck. She squeezes her thighs and I love how I affect her.
“It is a common word. it’s girl in Spanish.” Sara adds, a little breathless.
“Yes gracias, I knew that.” Joe winks at her.
“Alright, next question. What the fuck do they want, Joe?” I drop my head in my free hand, while my other holds Sara to my chest.
“They want… They want Sara and they want you dead for blowing up the Velastra.”
Sara freezes in my arms, barely managing a, “No…”
“They’re not going to do shit, baby,” I reassure her. She stares up at Joe. “Why do they want me, Joe?”
“You’ve caught their interest, that’s my fault—”
I cut him off. “Fuck, man! Fuck!” I shout. “I need this shit over like yesterday!”
Sara’s arm comes around my neck. “Liam, maybe if I…”
“You’re not doing anything.” I grab her throat and urgently pull her to my lips, kissing her, biting her lower lip.
“I need you to go back to bed. I have to talk to Joe. I’ll be beside you when we’re done,” I say against her lips. Joe watches us, leaning back in his chair, something like anger running through him.
She nods kissing me one more time and looks over to Joe before walking out of the office, leaving him and I alone.
“You could be a little more gentle with her,” Joe rasps.
I chuckle at that. “She likes it rough.” I smile, and he shakes his head, his eyes darkening to a somber shade that's close to regret.
“Some things are meant to stay in your head, Liam,” he grits out.
“Why did you keep this from me, Joe? It doesn’t make sense.”
“It made little sense to me too, Liam, but I had a lot of time to think—I just wanted to make you proud. I didn’t want you to come to my rescue.
Not again. You had with Dad, I saw what it did to us, to me.
I just didn’t want to be saved.” He rubs his eyes with his fingers, and my anger is turning into guilt as Joe continues, “I found a lead which I didn’t expect with the games.
I suspected it was connected to the trafficking, and they caught me when I rescued a few girls.
It all unraveled quickly from there and I found myself with threats up to my fucking throat.
You hated Sara and I had to protect her. ”
“You really think I wouldn’t have helped you protect her?” I protest. “You know I would’ve, Joe. She would’ve been a priority.”
“Well, clearly she has been.”
“You fucking ruined me! The pain you left behind...” I smack my hand on the desk. “Fuck!” I stand up and breathe through my teeth to calm my impending rage.
He looks up at the ceiling, running his hand through his hair, and dragging it down his exhausted face. “I’m… sorry, Liam. I really am.”
He walks over to me and extends a hand, like an agreement, and to my surprise, I take it and pull him into a hug.
He’s alive.
My breath hitches, and the pain in my chest makes me flinch, but if there’s a world where I don’t lose the two people I care about the most, I’ll do what needs to be done.
I clasp his shoulder. “I’m sorry too, for what I’ve taken from you.”
Joe chews his inner cheek, contemplating what that means and how it will all play out.
“And Joe, I’ve always been proud of you.”
His jaw tightens, and he swallows hard before nodding as I walk out of the office.
“By the way, where the fuck is my bed? Cause I'm tired of sleeping on the couch,” he asks.
I smile over my shoulder. “Dead men don’t need beds. It’s in the garage.” I take one more look at my brother, my twin, my blood.
“Welcome home, bro.”