Page 8 of Entwined With You

His head was spinning. “What are you talking—”

“I’m not her,” she said, the words so hard and fast that they silenced him with the efficiency of a butcher knife.

She stepped backward, her head down, her hands sliding into the pockets of her jeans before she slowly lifted her head. He saw the apology in the deep green eyes. “I’m not her, Mr. Reed. Mr. Travers. Mr. Whoever You’ll Be Tomorrow.”

He took a step back, only to realize there was nowhere else to go. He’d already moved away as she’d been speaking, and now his back was pressed against the door. “What are you talking about?”

“Exactly what I said in the text. I’m her sister. I’m Samantha.” She lifted a shoulder in a tiny shrug. “I should have also told you that we’re identical twins.”

Chapter Three

None of this was registering.

Or, more accurately, he could feel the inevitable truth bubbling up under the surface. But he didn’t want to hear it. He wanted the version of reality that had flashed before his eyes, like the mini-movie you supposedly see before death. Only this would be in defiance of death and in celebration of life.

Her life.

Except it wasn’t really her.

How the hell could it not really be her?

“Her sister,” he said numbly.

She pulled her hands out of her pockets and smoothed them down her denim-clad thighs. “Listen, maybe this isn’t a good time. I—I should give you time to settle. We can talk tomorrow.”

“No.” The word burst out of him. If she left now, he might never find her again, and he couldn’t lose her. Not now.

He drew in a breath, then said more calmly. “No, please stay. I need—” He cut himself off with a shake of his head, unable to get the words out past the ache in his chest. In his heart.

He closed his eyes, then tried again. “I lost her fifteen years ago, and it just about killed me. I know you’re not her—I know that. But you’re a connection.”

He held up his hand, showing the silver ring in the shape of an Ouroboros, noticing how her eyes widened at the sight.

“You’re wearing her ring.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I—I was with her when she got that ring.”

“When she was fifteen, right? Just a few months before she ran away?”

Samantha nodded, her eyes bright as she blinked too fast. “She was thinking about suicide,” she said, telling him the horrible truth that he already knew. “She said it would be okay because life and death formed a circle. All part of the whole.”

“But she couldn’t do it,” Brax said. He knew the story well. She loved life too much. Maybe it was all a circle, but she hadn’t made the journey around yet. She wanted so desperately to live, but—”

“But there wasn’t anyway to live with our father.” Her already pale skin lost the last remnants of color. “She ran away.” She licked her lips, then swallowed. “She got away from him.”

He studied her face, wondering if she’d stayed behind. And if so, why. But he couldn’t ask. It didn’t matter how familiar her face was; he didn’t know this woman.

Instead, he held up the ring again. “This is all I have of hers, and now out of the blue you’re here. You came for a reason, Samantha. Tell me why. Come inside or we can talk at Blacklist like we planned, but don’t leave. Not today. Not on September 2nd when I’m drowning in memories. When I can still hear the explosion. Please,” he continued, forcing his voice not to shake. “Please stay. Even if all we do tonight is talk about our memories of her.”

He watched her face—that face he used to know in such intimate detail that he could read every nuance, every tiny change in mood.

Except it wasn’t Sabrina’s face—not really. And he had no idea what the woman standing in front of his door was thinking.

Finally, she nodded, her eyes flicking up to meet his as she did. “We can stay here.” She bit her lower lip, then drew in a long breath before adding, “I—I’m not sure I can get through this conversation without crying, so I’d just as soon not be in public.”

He nodded. “Understood,” he said, as unlocked the door and ushered her inside. He followed, then shut the door. They both stood awkwardly in the small entryway that opened onto the also small living/dining area.

“Do you want a drink?” he finally asked, since he had no idea what else to say.

“Yeah. I think I need one.” The corner of her mouth quirked up, and his heart stuttered when he saw Sabrina’s familiar dimple on Samantha’s cheek. What the hell was he walking into?