Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
“Shep,” Ark warns, his tatted hand on Shep’s collar, his green eyes alert, “let him the fuck go, okay? Let your brother go.”
Byron pulls at Shepard too. And given how strong Byron is in addition to rumors about his steroid use, Shep should move back, but it’s the testament to my brother’s hatred and anger that no one can make him budge.
In fact, he tightens his hold even more and gives me another shove. “Say that again.”
I grit my teeth against the pain. “I know.”
“Yeah, what’d you know?”
“About the ultimatum.”
His features still for a second before rippling with rage and I can’t help but envy him. I envy him for being able to display his emotions so freely. I envy him for having that freedom.
I fucking envy him.
Which is strange because I’ve never done that.
For all my crimes against him, I’ve never envied him, begrudged him his freedom. In fact, I’ve always been grateful that it was me and not him or any of my other siblings. Yes, Ledger has issues with anger, but they’re not as big as mine. And for all the ways I’m wrong, I’ve always been grateful that it’s me and not them.
Not my twin brother.
“I know what the world thinks isn’t true,” I continue. “What I thought isn’t true.”
He clenches his jaw. “You shut your fucking mouth.”
“And you never corrected anyone, you never corrected any assumptions because either your ego didn’t let you or because you wanted it to be true so badly that you didn’t mind the deception. Either way—”
This time, his retaliation comes in the form of a punch.
A hard jab to my left jaw.
At which point all three of them try to calm him down but to no avail. They try to pull him away, but Shepard doesn’t budge. His anger is too much in this moment and I can see that.
I understand that.
For the first time ever, I empathize with him.
I’d do the same thing if I were him. I’d beat the shit out of me too.
“Either way, you love her,” I say, wiping the blood off my mouth.
“Yeah, I fucking do, you asshole,” he growls.
“So—”
“And if you think you’re going to take her away from me, I’ll—”
“I’m not,” I tell him truthfully.
“Yeah?”
Looking him in the eye, I state, “I told you before: she’s yours. She’ll stay yours.”
“So then why the fuck did you go after her? Why the fuck”—he gets closer to me even more—“did you go behind my back and lie to her?”
Because I’m an asshole.
Because I’m selfish.
Because I thought it would solve all my problems, these unruly feelings that I don’t know what to do with. And because what I told her the other night is true. Until I said it to her, I hadn’t known. Why I pretended, why I lied. There was no reason for me to do that. There was no reason for me to carry on the deception past that first night.
And the answer is that I did want to get to know her.
I couldn’t do that as Stellan. The man with hidden anger and control issues. The man always on the edge. The man who has to cage himself, leash himself tightly in order to keep the chaos inside of him in check.
The man who thought of her as a threat.
But I could do that as Shepard, her best friend. As my twin, I could assume a role, a character, and be with her even if for a little while. I could get to know the girl who’s only ever been out of reach but somehow has been the center of my fucking universe since the moment I saw her.
My Lolita.
My Cherry Lips.
My flame.
Dora.
The girl who torments me and grounds me at the same time.
“It doesn’t matter why,” I tell him.
In response, he twists his fists in my collar for a second before laying another punch on my face. This one was harder than the first, so it takes me a moment to gather my wits. Spitting out the blood on the side, I pant, “It was wrong and I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have—”
Another punch.
That not only jars me but also our friends. This time, Byron manages to get Shepard to step back a little but only for a few seconds. And then my twin brother is right where he was, raging and twisting my collar in his fist.
“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” he growls. “I told you, didn’t I? I told you that she’s mine. That if you go near her, I’ll fucking declare war and guess what’s coming, you asshole.”
Again, I wipe the blood off my mouth. “If that’s what will make you feel better, then fine. You can have your war.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “I will.”
“But I won’t fight back.”
A muscle jumps in his cheek.
I know he’s always hated it.