by Libby Austin
“One night I was at a party with Barrett and our friends from school. It was a normal party. Nothing stood out about that night. Chelsea had other plans, so I’d decided to go to this party. We’d been there about an hour when I got a text from Chelsea telling me her plans had fallen through and asking if I wanted to hang out. I made a split-second decision to invite her to the party. It seemed like a good time to introduce her to Barrett and our friends. I sent her the address.
“As I waited for her to show up, my nerves began to kick in. I liked her a lot, and I could see us dating seriously—well, as seriously as teenagers can. Introducing her was a big step. So I went into the house to get a beer, a little bit of liquid courage. I’d left Barrett outside in the front yard, talking to some friends. I didn’t think to tell him she was coming before I went inside.
“I’d chugged about half of my beer and was topping it off when I heard yelling from outside. Somebody said, ‘Brand, some dude’s trying to fight your brother.’ The kitchen was at the back of the house. I made it to the front door as a loud pop filled the night. The night was so quiet. Eerily so, like the calm before the storm. I heard Barrett gasp, and I saw him fall. His legs just sort of folded under him.
“I didn’t pay attention to the guy or think about anything else; I just knew I needed to get to Barrett. He lay there gasping for air, and it made this horrible gurgling sound. He was coughing blood. I knelt beside him and put his head in my lap. I begged him to hold on and told him the ambulance would be there soon. Over and over I assured him—and myself—that he was going to be okay.
“The only thing he said was ‘Bye,’ and his eyelids closed over his green eyes. I started screaming. The paramedics arrived and took him from me. After that I don’t remember much, just flashes. It was much later that I knew what happened.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I want you to tell me what happened to you. I want to know, but I want you to know that none of this changes what I think about you, Brandon,” Layna said, and I managed to nod my head, even though I didn’t believe her.
“It wasn’t Chelsea who sent me the text. It was her ex-boyfriend. He’d gotten her phone while she was out with friends. When I sent the address, his friends told him he should come kick my ass for messing with his girl. So that was what he came to do.
“He saw Barrett in the front yard and thought he was me, so he confronted Barrett. Of course Barrett had no fucking clue what was going on. Barrett had been dating the same girl for two years, and he had never heard of Chelsea. This made Chelsea’s ex madder.
“Then Chelsea showed up, and she got mad because she thought I was lying about knowing her since she didn’t know Barrett and I were twins. So they were all yelling at each other and it escalated. Chelsea’s ex pulled a gun and shot Barrett in the chest. He took off.”
“What happened after that?”
“I don’t really know. When I came to later on and realized that Barrett was gone, I lost it all over again. I had to be sedated and was hospitalized. Anytime someone tried to talk to me about Barrett, I would lose it again. Finally, they stopped talking about him to me.
“I couldn’t live without Barrett. From the first beat of my heart to the first breath I’d taken, he’d been there. I couldn’t reconcile moving forward if Barrett wasn’t with me, so I tried to kill myself. I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital after that. I was despondent and I wanted to die. My body was alive, but my soul was dead.
“Then Barrett started talking to me, telling me I had to live for him, for our parents. He came to me for a long time, but the doctors said I was suffering from delusions and auditory hallucinations and began prescribing all kinds of meds. I’d felt almost dead inside before, but those meds killed what little was left. I was assigned a new doctor and that was when things started to turn around. He weaned me from the meds and Barrett began to talk to me again, but I soon realized I couldn’t talk to the doctor about Barrett talking to me, so I kept quiet.
“The more I kept quiet about Barrett, the less he would talk to me. Then one day he disappeared and didn’t talk to me anymore. I was released from the hospital and went to my parents’ new house. They’d moved from the town where I’d grown up.
“We’d never lived an extravagant lifestyle. I honestly had no idea my parents were wealthy. I thought we were just like every other family I knew, so their new house was a shock. It was the opposite of the way we had lived. The house was big and the property was massive. I hated it. Once I was stable enough, my parents and the doctors agreed that I could go to college.
“I chose to legally drop my last name, so I became Brandon Matthew Carmichael, college student. I picked music as my major. I’d always liked music, but it was Barrett who excelled musically. It was my small way of paying tribute to him. You pretty much know the rest.”
“Why did you decide to avoid relationships with women?”
“Because my involvement with Chelsea clouded my judgment, and if it hadn’t been for that, Barrett would still be alive.”
“Brandon, what about the times you told me you were talking to Barrett?”
I ran my tongue along my lips to moisten them. It was more of a delay tactic than anything. “After the guys decided they wanted to take a break from touring and recording, I had a bit of breakdown. It had been coming for a while, since Bow and Danelle began dating, but the break from the band was the catalyst. One day, I made the decision to kill myself.” I was ashamed I let myself get so far down again. “I bought a gun, waited the waiting period, came home, loaded a bullet in the chamber, and picked the gun up. As I sat there, debating on writing a letter to my parents and my friends, telling them this wasn’t their fault, I heard Barrett tell me I was a fucking moron.
“He’d come back to me when I needed him. He told me that I couldn’t do this to Mom and Dad willingly. He hadn’t had a choice, but I did. If I chose to stay, he’d stay with me.
“The next day, I pawned the gun and started trying to get myself together. I was still sort of at loose ends and didn’t know what to do with myself without the band, but the desire not to live was gone.
“I know I just dropped a lot on you, and I’ll understand if you don’t want to be with a head case, but can you just stay with me tonight? Can I have just one more night with you in my arms?”
“Brandon—”
“Please, just one more night,” I pleaded.
“One more night,” she agreed.
I pulled her into my arms and lay back, thankful I could have this and determined to commit every moment to memory. As I lay there with her in my arms for what I thought was the last time, I knew there was one more thing I wanted to share with her that I would never be able to give anyone else.
Sliding my arm out from under her head, I raised myself over her, tilted her head back so that our lips were aligned, and kissed her. The kiss began as a soft benediction, but soon turned heated as I poured everything I felt into Layna. Taking her hand, I guided it to my erection, which was becoming more painful by the second. “Please, Layna. Please, I want this with you.” I moved my hand off of hers and she gripped me in her fist. I lay my hand on her breast and drew my thumb across her nipple, which hardened beneath my touch.
I lowered my hand to the hem of her shirt as I kissed her again. My fingers moved along her smooth skin. Goose bumps rose in their wake. Pulling back from our kiss, I looked into Layna’s eyes. I wanted to connect with her. I wanted to know she was in as deep as I was; we had to be in this together, or it meant nothing. What I found in Layna’s gaze mirrored my soul.
As my hand found the bare skin of her breast, I lowered my head to trail kisses along her collarbone and then down until my mouth surrounded the hardened bud of her nipple through the thin material of her shirt. The shirt had to go. I pushed myself away and slid my hands up her stomach, taking the shirt with them. Layna raised up and I, in my enthusiasm, yanked it over her head. Her hair fell around her in all directions. If tha
t was sex hair, sex hair was sexy as hell.
I bent to draw her pajama pants down her legs. When I took in the sight of the woman I loved laid out before me, she was more than I could put into words. I moved to kiss her again, but she stopped me and said, “Your turn.”
Pushing my nervousness aside, I jerked my boxers off in what I’m sure was the least smooth move ever performed. When I was rid of them, I leaned forward to press my lips just under her belly button. Layna sucked her stomach in as my tongue teased across her skin until I was once again at her breast. I wanted to touch her everywhere. I wanted to memorize this moment. When she left me tomorrow, I would need the memory to make it. I shoved that thought to the back of my mind and moved to kiss her sweet lips.
As our lips caressed each other, Layna’s hand trailed over my abs to my dick. I groaned and pulled out of her grasp. “What’s wrong?” she pulled away from our kiss to ask.
“Nothing,” I said through a rushed breath, “but I’m about five seconds from exploding, and I would really like to be inside of you before that happens.”
“Oh,” she said breathlessly. Her heart pounded furiously against mine.
I continued on my exploration, taking every second to heart. I never thought I could feel this attachment to another soul. She was beautiful. Compelled to be certain she knew how I saw her, I moved along the length of her until our bodies matched. Doing my best not to crush her, I braced my upper body on my forearms. “You’re so beautiful. If I’d had any idea what awaited me on the other side of the door that day, I probably would have hidden. I’ll never be able to tell you how finding you has made me feel. There are so many different things I want to tell you, but I can’t find the words for any of them.”
“Make love to me, Brandon.”
“That’s what I’m doing.”
“No,” she said in a husky voice that was even sexier, “you’re talking.”
“But they’re always talking in your books.”
“Those are books, Brandon, so shut the fuck up and kiss me.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. Once again, I was lost in Layna.
I would never be able to tell her how much I loved her. I only hoped I could show her. Taking care not to rush or hurt her, I slid into her. Holy shit! Breathe, Brandon. I was trying to tell myself to breathe, but none of my circuits were firing on all cylinders.
Layna moved and she flexed around me. “Oh, God,” I said in a rush.
“What’s wrong?”
“Umm, nothing’s wrong.” Breathe, Brandon. “But I really need you not to do that just yet.”
“What, this?” she asked as she squeezed me in the sweetest ecstasy.
“Remember how I said I was about five seconds away from exploding in your hand?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, being inside of you is about a million times better than your hand, and if you do that again right now, I won’t last two seconds. And I would really like this to last longer than that.”
She laughed, which did exactly what I didn’t want, so to stop her from laughing, I kissed her. Layna moaned into my mouth, and we were both lost. I prayed she felt the same connection to me as I did to her.
Slowly I began to move inside of her. I knew I wasn’t going to last very long, so through the haze coating my brain, I searched through my limited repertoire and through all of Bow’s mostly useless, unsolicited advice on how to please a woman.
When I came, shouting Layna’s name, my name crossed Layna’s lips in a breathy whisper. I wanted to ask her if it was okay, if I had pleased her, but I didn’t think I could bear it if she said no, so I stayed silent for a long time.
“I love you, ma bichette,” I whispered as sleep claimed me.
I FOUGHT AGAINST CONSCIOUSNESS AS my body began to wake from a surprisingly deep and restful sleep. The text alarm on my phone sounding was what woke me. Without opening my eyes, I reached for Layna, but found nothing other than an empty bed. Turning my head, I opened my eyes and stared at the pillow, still bearing the indention of where Layna had slept. She’d left while I was asleep. I’d thought my heart couldn’t break any more. I was wrong.
The text alert sounded again and I picked up the phone to read the messages.
Touch: The band is meeting at my house in two hours.
Touch: This isn’t optional. If you don’t show up, we’re coming there.
I knew it was time to be honest with them and tell them everything.
Me: I’ll be there.
Sitting up on the edge of the bed, I dropped my head into my hands. I had to figure out how to move forward. Loving Layna showed me that I didn’t want to be alone. I knew the reasons she hadn’t stayed were because of me and my issues. I realized I’d never really dealt with everything that happened. I’d filed it away and did everything I could not to resurrect it. It was time to put the past to rest and give myself real peace.
At the sound of running water, I spun to look at the bathroom door just in time to see it open and Layna step out into the bedroom.
“You stayed,” I said.
Her head snapped up. “Of course I stayed. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
I stood and walked over to her. She didn’t resist when I pulled her into my arms. Her arms wrapped around me just as tightly. “But we still have to talk, Brandon. There’s so much more to say,” she said quietly.
“I know,” I agreed, “but I have one more favor to ask.”
She drew back and asked, “What is it?”
I swallowed to clear my throat and give myself time to push down my nerves. “The guys have called a band meeting in two hours, and I’ve decided to tell them about my past. Will you go with me? I could really use your support.”
“Yes, I’ll go with you, but you and I need to talk.”
“I promise we’ll talk when we get back. Do you want to take a shower before we leave?” I asked to change the subject. I knew what was coming, and it was inevitable, but I wanted to keep her by my side for a little longer.
“Yeah, I need to take care of a few things.”
“Okay, you go do that. I’ll get a shower and then come over to your place, okay?”
“Sure,” she said and pulled back to leave.
I stopped her, raised my hands to cradle her face, placed a kiss on her lips with as much feeling as I could impart, then drew back, looked into her eyes, and said, “I meant what I said last night, Layna. I love you.”
Pain filled her eyes and she said, “I know.” Then she stepped back out of my embrace and left the room without saying anything else.
An hour and forty-five minutes later, we knocked on Touch’s door. We hadn’t said anything to one another since she’d stepped out of her bedroom and I asked if she was ready to go. Kaitlyn opened the door and told us everyone was in the family room.
“What’s she doing here?” Touch asked, pointing at Layna, who flinched at the pointed question and the hostility that laced Touch’s voice. “This is a band meeting.”
“Last I checked, neither Kaitlyn nor Danelle were members of the band, yet they’re here. But to answer your question, Layna is here because I want her here. I have something I need to talk to you guys about, and I need her support.”
“Brand, you’ve known us a hell of a lot longer—” Touch began, but I cut him off.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I stopped and took a deep breath to calm down. “I know you’re trying to protect me, but I’m a grown man. I don’t need protection.”
“We know that, Brand,” Ruff said. “What did you want to talk to us about?”
Now that the moment was at hand, I found myself getting nauseated. I couldn’t suppress the sensation. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.” I turned to head down the hall to the bathroom.
“Use the one in the guest room off the kitchen. The other one broke yesterday,” Kaitlyn said, and I nodded, changing directions.
I went into the guest room and closed the door.
Finding the first chair, I collapsed in it. “Calm down,” I told myself. “No matter what, you know the guys will have your back. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
I took a couple more minutes to gather myself. If I’d known what was to come next, I would have never gotten out of the chair, which happened to be in front of Kaitlyn’s desk. She’d turned the mother-in-law suite into her home office.
As I rose from the chair, I jostled the desk, causing the computer to come out of sleep mode. A name on one of the desktop files caught my attention. It wasn’t a common name or word, so it stood out. Why does Kaitlyn have a file named ‘Reft’? The coincidence was too much. Not once, in all the years I’d known the guys, had anyone mentioned this name.
Of its own accord, my hand gripped the mouse and clicked to open the file. Document after document revealed more and more. But it was the document titled ‘Article’ that revealed the level of deception I’d fallen victim to at the hands of my friends and family. I no longer had to worry about protecting my heart from breaking. I lost a piece of it with each click of the mouse until it was obliterated.
Making myself stand, I walked out into the family room where everyone tensely sat gathered in their collective deceit. I walked straight to Layna, who stood as I approached.
“Who are you?” I asked, and Layna realized I knew.
“I’m Layna Delacroix.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me. Don’t fucking lie to me anymore.”
“I’m not lying to you, Brandon.”
“You certainly aren’t being completely forthcoming, are you, doctor? Should I call you Dr. Delacroix when we fuck? Not that it’s ever going to fucking happen again.”
Tears had begun to pour over her cheeks. The very same cheeks I had rubbed my thumbs over as I stared into the eyes of the woman I loved. “Brandon, please, it’s not what you think—”
“Not what I fucking think? Do you think I’m fucking stupid as well as crazy? Did you get off on fucking with me just a little bit more? Was I some fucking experiment to you?”
Touch—no, Touch was my fucking best friend, this mother fucker was Micah—reached out to put a hand on my shoulder. I hadn’t paid attention to everyone crowding around us until then. “Get your fucking hands off me, you God-damned Judas! You with your fucking cock-sucking bitch of a fiancée—”
