This may be the first time he’s admitted it out loud to someone. In fact, I know it is but I don’t make a big deal about it except show him acceptance. “I know.”
His jaw clenches for a bit before he says, “If I was less of a toxic fucking asshole, I’d let you go, but I…” He tightens his hold around me as if he’s afraid I’ll push him away. “I can’t. I won’t.”
Something even more painful clenches in my chest. “Well, good thing we know only a strawberry can cut through your poison.”
His lips twitch and he drops his gaze down to my mouth and I get the same feeling I did that night. Six months ago. I feel like he’s going to kiss me. And shouldn’t we kiss before everything? In fact, we should have kissed by now. How is it that we haven’t?
But all he does is whisper, “Tomorrow.” I lick my lips and he keeps going, staring at my mouth. “After your shift, you’re coming with me.”
Chapter Eleven
THE WRECKING THORN
I fucking hate get-togethers.
Not in general, just the ones my sister throws. It didn’t start out that way though. As in, in the beginning these events only consisted of a few people. Callie’s friends from St. Mary’s, the rest of my siblings. It was a place where we could all be together, like old times. We could carve time out of our busy schedules and hang out together, play a friendly little game of soccer, rib each other, feel like a family again. It used to be one of my favorite things.
But then things changed. The group grew. Friends of friends started to come into the fold. And of course, my own siblings started hooking up, bringing their girlfriends and wives and fucking everything in between. And somehow, these intimate get-togethers graduated into this huge fucking party full of people I don’t really know or care to know. I’d stop coming to them, but I know Callie would hate it. And this is still the only way I get to see all my siblings together, as busy as they are withtheir own lives. Seeing my brothers at practice doesn’t really count; that’s work. This is family, or it’s supposed to be.
Mostly though, I feel guilty. Like always. For being so irritated about all this. For being so disloyal toward my own brothers and sister. Not to mention, it’s even harder these days, coming to these things. No one really has to guess why. Or maybe they do have to, because it’s not like I will let it show. That I’m still hung up on her. My twin brother’s girlfriend.
“Hey.”
It’s as if I conjured him up, I see Stellan approach me and my fingers tighten around the bottle. I’m still at the party. Mainly because it’s over now and most of the people have left. At first I stuck around for the clean-up, but now that’s done as well and I’ve been nursing the same beer for the past hour, looking out to the woods.
Sipping my lukewarm beer, I reply, “Hey yourself.”
He comes to stand beside me, his hands in his pockets. “Thought you would’ve left.”
“Not yet,” I say and take another sip of the disgusting liquid.
I’m not much of a drinker for obvious reasons. I’ll drink whiskey here and there but it’s very rare for me to go for seconds. Except tonight this is my second beer. Not that I’m drinking it; it’s a cover.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Stellan says, flat out.
He’s right.
I kind of am. I don’t return his texts. When I do, I keep them short. He’s been trying to get me to go out for drinks and I always have an excuse not to. At practice, I try to keep my distance from him. I don’t talk to him much, don’t provoke him or try to start something with him like I usually do. Or did, because I love being an asshole.
I know he notices it. My distance, my unusual quiet. And again, I feel guilty for doing that to him. I feel guilty for wantingto piss on his happy parade, but I can’t seem to help it. Being in love with your twin brother’s girlfriend will do that to you.
It’s just that this is fairly new. As in, him actually bringing it up. Love has made him a changed man, and I think he’s embracing more of an open approach. I take another pull of my beer and wish I was more into alcohol. That way I could get drunk and avoid whatever conversation he wants to have. “Been busy.”
He watches me for a moment before throwing me a short nod. “Okay, I’ll give you that.” Then he sighs and speaks before I can. “The reason I’ve been calling you, wanting to get together, is because I wanted you to hear it from me first.”
“Hear what from you first?”
He waits a moment to answer. “I’ve accepted another job.”
I go still for a few seconds, thinking I heard him wrong. “What?”
“New England,” he says, his eyes—identical to mine—staring at me. “They’re looking for a new coach and they sought me out. I said yes.”
I turn to him fully, my frown thick and deep. “You said yes.”
“Yeah.”
“So you’re moving to fucking New England?”
