“No. You don’t get to touch me. Last night was a mistake,” I snap, and his face contorts in pain, and a distant feeling fissures in me. Hurting him feels… it feels so painful.
“For what it’s worth, Sara,” he pauses, his eyes fixed on me. “I’m so sorry. I broke my heart making sure you’d stay alive.” His words hit me in the back of my throat.
“And you almost killed me with the grief you left me with. I survived a pain I never wish to feel again, Joe.” I can’t breathe, my words stuck in my throat.
“Do you love him?” His question is dry, tragedy in his eyes dancing with my own, staring back at us with what we’ve all done to each other, what we’ve survived and who we are… now.
“I…I…” I can’t find the courage to tell him that I do love his brother, but… I love him too, and he must feel the emotional storm rummaging inside me.
“I’ve always rendered you speechless.” He steps closer, his eyes meeting mine, tugging a piece of hair behind my ear, and my body shutters, his touch still so engraved in my memory.
“I used to be speechless out of admiration for a man I was falling hopelessly in love with, Joe. Now, I’m speechless out of the hopelessness you left behind.”
“Sara…” he whispers, but I turn away from him and the hallway blurs as I walk to Liam’s bedroom, my arms wrapped tight around my ribs. I feel cold, confused, and hurt.
Behind me, Joe’s breathing hitches, and when I look over my shoulder, Fiasco had already turned around back to Joe, choosing the ghost that had been haunting us over me.
Thirty-Nine
Sara
The next few days blur together. Joe busies himself going through the information that Mateo, Liam, and Damien have gathered. He feels confident that there are a few clues he wants to investigate. Surprisingly, the boys give him the reins and trust him.
On the other hand, I’ve been avoiding having a conversation with Joe, despite us desperately needing to have one. We’ve crossed paths in the house, he’s even made dinner, and we watched a movie feet apart until the tension was so palpable that I eventually laid my head on his lap while he dragged his handthrough my hair over and over again. Just like a lullaby putting to sleep the heaviness in our bubble that we both need to pop, but are so afraid to. I don’t want to lose him again, but I don’t know how to keep him either.
Liam is getting stronger every day. I’ve stayed by his side, reading books to him out loud, while Joe brings him food and I watch him make it in the kitchen. It all feels like an alternate universe. Each of us is navigating our feelings through our mistakes, figuring out what can be forgiven and what can’t be undone.
Liam is slowly spending more hours awake, but he still needs a lot of rest. I’m just thankful he’s okay. Taking care of his wound, which is so close to his heart, leaves me with a sinking feeling that I was so close to losing him. Every day brings me closer to my truth, but I just can’t fully wrap my head around what that is just yet, and that alone hurts.
I’ve also stayed busy planting flowers, not daring to go further than the garden in the backyard and calling my mom and Liam’s, since both want updates. I don’t have the heart to tell his mother that her other son is still alive. I told Joe he can grow some balls and find the courage to let her know.
Today is a warmer day in April, and I want to swim, dive into the pool and let myself sink to the bottom along with all of my heavy feelings.
The air is quiet, a soft breeze drifts through the trees. I close the book I’m reading and strip my dress off to just my underwear, but I don’t care. Joe is off doing God knows what, and my Liam is resting.
Plunging into the water, I savor its touch on my skin, a reminder of what it means to be alive. I perch my elbows on the pool wall, dangling my legs peacefully. I need this moment to breathe. The water soothes my skin, offering a temporary escape from the chaos: the shooting, Joe’s return, the tangle ofemotions I can’t sort through. The questions of who owns the Velastra, who is probably the same person behind the trafficking and the poker games.
I hear the sliding door open in front of me and tense, not ready to face either of the Laurent twins. But when I peek one eye open, I see Joe standing there with two glasses of lemonade, watching me with an intensity that makes me shiver despite the warm water. He’s not quite the Joe I remember, not quite a stranger. Something in between that makes my heart ache in ways I don’t want to examine.
Against my better judgment, I look up.
“Thought you might be thirsty,” he says as he heads my way. His eyes linger on me, taking in my nearly naked body making heat rise to my cheeks.
I consider ignoring him, but I can’t. “Thanks,” I mumble, our fingers brush as I take the glass from him and I shiver.
“We need to talk, Sara.” He crouches down so we’re closer to eye level. “Really talk.”
I sigh. “We do, go ahead.” I say, taking a sip of lemonade.
“Aren’t you relieved even a tad that I’m not actually dead?”
“Do you not see how problematic your question is?” I stare into his eyes, allowing myself to indulge in his magnetic beauty.
“I thought you’d be happy, Sara, but I guess you’re doing just fine with Liam.” He stares at me. “Cause you fuck him, right?”
I don’t answer right away. Sure, I could feel guilty that a supposedly dead man I’ve mourned with every inch of me is blaming me for moving on with his twin brother, but I fell in love with Liam for who he is and for who I lost, Joe. It’s complex, not something that can be rationalized in two sentences. It’s written between the lines, in tendrils of words and emotions that have beckoned my heart to love two men at once. One who was lost, and one whose soul became the most beautiful escape. I won’tapologize or justify my impossible choices. They’re mine and I stand by them.
“You call this ‘talking’? You clearly have a hard time communicating, Joe. Maybe, just maybe, you could’ve talked to me before ripping my heart open.”
