‘You have to be, this time.’ He placed both hands on either side of my face. His touch was gentle, but his eyes burned into mine. ‘Swear to me you won’t say anything.’
‘I said I’ll try!’ I rolled my eyes, annoyed at my brother all over again, the wine making me bolshy.
‘No. Say it. If you love me, then swear on my life that you won’t say a word about us until I’ve explained everything.’
‘Okay! If it means that much, I swear on your life I won’t say anything.’
He pulled me up against his chest, bending his head to kiss me again. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust you, just… I know how strong that twin thing is.’
After another hurried kiss, I insisted I had to go. I tucked the earbuds that we’d been sharing into his ears and clicked through his phone to the song that had been wafting across the golf course when he first kissed me, turning the volume up to ear-splitting.
‘There. Now you can think about me all the way home.’
He laughed. ‘I don’t need a song for that.’
We crept back out onto the lane, me first, then Elliot once I’d gestured that the coast was clear. He then insisted on waiting until I’d gone. Maybe it was the wine, perhaps I was high on love, but I started to sway, adding in silly dance moves and spins as I walked, flinging my hands in the air as I felt the thrill of knowing he was watching.
I twirled around just in time to see it.
The deafening music must have muffled the sound of the engine.
His black suit must have made him invisible where he hovered by the side of the road.
But it was because I distracted him that he stumbled.
So, when the car hit, tossing Elliot into the air like a stuffed toy, I was the one to blame.
1
When Isaac and I left home, exactly one month after our eighteenth birthday, I swore to myself I’d never live with him again.
Not simply due to his constant pestering, concealer theft or post-sport stink. Isaac had been the other half of me since before we were born. Getting some space from him was how I hoped to get space from myself. Or at least the me I used to be, before.
I couldn’t run away from me, but I could hide from the person who knew me better than anyone.
Only now, nearly eleven years later, I’d run all the way out of options.
I took a deep breath and picked up my phone. After all, it wouldn’t be forever.
Hey bro. That spare room still available?
Instantly my phone rang. I braced myself before answering with as cheery a hello as I could muster.
‘It’s yours,’ he said, not bothering with a greeting. ‘Funnily enough, there aren’t that many singletons looking for a house share in the metropolis of Houghton. When Mum said you might be moving back, I was hoping you’d be interested. When do you want it?’
Hearing my brother’s voice for the first time in months made my stomach cramp. I started to mentally backtrack, thoughts scrabbling through alternative options, despite knowing full well that if there were any, I’d have found them by now.
‘I have to be out of here by the weekend.’
There was a brief silence while I could hear Isaac holding back from asking me why on earth I’d waited to contact him until two days before being made homeless.
‘If it’s not ready that’s fine, I can crash with a friend for a few days. Or weeks. However long, it’s not a problem.’
It was a big problem. I didn’t have many friends of my own here in Brighton. Not the kind who’d let me stay with them rent free, anyway. Besides, I was supposed to be starting my new job on Monday and I needed the money.
‘No, it’s ready. Arthur’s been keeping some stuff in there, but that can go in the garage.’
‘Arthur?’
