“DROP MEoff here.”
Nicholas didn’t appear thrilled, but he complied with Livvy’s order, stopping at the end of the cul-de-sac. It was dark out, but the lights from the dashboard illuminated his face in a greenish glow as he turned to her. “Will you think about meeting up with my grandfather and sister?”
She bit her lip. In all the other stuff they’d discussed, she’d almost forgotten about John and Eve. “Not your sister. Tell her we’re cool.” She believed Eve was remorseful. There was no need to have another stressful discussion, especially if it was going to drag up totally false stories about their parents.
He accepted that response with a single nod. “My grandfather, though?” When she hesitated, he pressed. “He’s getting old, Livvy. I don’t want to lay that on you, but I don’t know how much longer he has.”
Her stomach sank. “Is he sick?”
“No, nothing urgent.” Nicholas grimaced. “Still. You never know. I’ll beg you to do it, if that’s what it takes.”
She opened and closed her hands in her lap. For Nicholas to beg? That was indeed serious. “I came here to make peace with my family. That’s it. I didn’t ask for all this.”
“I know.” He traced his fingers over the steering wheel. The fingers he’d had inside her. “I’m sorry. I don’t like bothering you, believe me.”
“It’s not a bother to see John. It’s painful.”
“I get that.” He didn’t say anything more.
She sighed. “I’ll think about it.”
“Thank you. Let me know either way.”
She opened her door, the interior light coming on. “I guess, I’ll, um, talk to you soon then?” The words felt weird in her mouth. It had been so long since they’d parted ways with actual goodbyes and the expectation of seeing each other again.
He rested his palm on her arm and she stopped. “Can I—”
She waited for him to finish but then he only shook his head and removed his hand. Her skin felt a little colder. “Never mind. Yes, we’ll talk soon.”
Were they supposed to kiss? Hug? She gave him an awkward wave and what she imagined was a pretty close human imitation of the gritted teeth emoji and exited the car.
She was supremely conscious of his vehicle idling behind her as she walked into the cul-de-sac. He wouldn’t leave until she got to her mother’s house. She tried to view the neighborhood through his eyes—it was solidly middle- to upper-class, but the four-bedroom brick home she was walkingtoward was a far cry from the estate where she had grown up.
She tucked her fingers into her jacket pocket, brushing velvet softness. While Nicholas had been distracted on the phone, she’d stuck the roses he’d brought her into an empty glass of water. She couldn’t have brought them home without serious questions.
That hadn’t stopped her from foolishly tucking a few petals in her pocket, though. She removed her hand and tugged her jacket tighter around her body. All her nerve endings felt tingly and too sensitive, as they always did after an encounter with Nicholas. Something was off, though, and it took her a second to realize what it was.
She didn’t feel terrible.
That repetitive cycle of pleasure and pain. Where was the pain? Where was the aching inside of her, threatening to swallow her whole?
There was worry, yes, but she was calm. Why was that? Could it have been the talking when usually they were silent? The sense of making some sort of non-physical connection with him? The range of emotions he’d displayed? His vulnerability when he confessed he was nervous about a woman going down on him?
She mulled over the idea of oral sex therapy as an as-yet-undiscovered area of psychology as she skirted the motorcycle parked at the curb. Her aunt had complained the neighbors were letting their guests park willy-nilly in front of their home. She’d tell Maile about the hog in the morning.
She mounted the steps of the porch and waved at Nicholas. His headlights flashed and he drove away.
Livvy almost had her key in the door when a creak had her straightening, body going alert. A large shadow separated from the rickety chair on the porch, and she took a step back.
The shadow spoke. “It’s me, Livs.”
“Me, who—?” Realization struck, and she took another step back, this time out of shock. No one called her Livs except... “Jackson?” she whispered.
The hulking man stepped into the thin circle of light cast by the porch lamp. She and Jackson shared the same eyes and lips, but otherwise, no one would know they were siblings, let alone twins. Both her brothers had always been large-framed, taking after their father’s side of the family.
In the ten years since she’d seen him, Jackson’s face had grown leaner, more sculpted, his cheekbones high and slashing, his thick brows lowering over piercing eyes. He’d turned his solid frame into muscles packed on top of muscles, his large forearms and biceps revealed by the white T-shirt he wore in defiance of the fall chill.
“Jackson,” she said again. Then she burst into tears.
