Beyond Layers: Layer Series Book Four (Layers Series 4)

by Alexander, TL

  He shrugs. “I couldn’t. I felt like I’d be betraying Luke somehow. Sandy knows the truth, but she forgets, mixes it up in her head. Her doctor told me she just couldn’t accept Luke’s death. I thought I was protecting her, in a way. I thought by letting her live the lie, she could go on.”

  I hand him the bottle. “I’m confused, Logan. Start from the beginning.”

  He nods. “Allie’s friend worked at the drug store near campus. She told Allie when Sandy bought a pregnancy test. So when Sandy called and asked to speak with Luke, I asked her what was going on. She told me she was pregnant and it was Luke’s baby. I didn’t believe her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Sandy was a fucking whore.”

  I cringe.

  “I’m sorry Sam but she was. She slept with half the guys on campus. She was in love with Luke and everyone knew it. She swore it was his, but I didn’t believe her. I still have my doubts. I begged her not to tell Luke because I knew Luke would step up, even if it weren’t his kid. That’s just the kind of guy he was. She promised me she wouldn’t tell him, but she did. When Luke found out that I’d told her to get an abortion, and that I’d even pay for it…” He pauses, running a hand through his hair. “You should have seen the look on his face. He hated me. My other half, my twin brother, couldn’t even look me in the eye. It broke me.”

  He takes a long draw from the bottle and continues. “Luke was the good twin, the smart one. He’d earned a scholarship to Harvard Law. I knew if he stayed with Sandy, married her, she’d suck the life out of him, and he’d give up his dream. He wanted to be a defense attorney. He wanted to defend the defenseless. He had the biggest… heart.”

  He pauses taking another healthy draw from the bottle. “He felt sorry for her, wanted to take care of her and the baby. He couldn’t look me in the eye but I couldn’t let him throw his life away.”

  He looks off in the distance. “After I got out of the hospital, I was… I was in so much pain. I know it’s no excuse for what I did, but I couldn’t deal with what had happened. I refused to see the truth, to admit I was responsible for Luke’s death. I blamed Sandy for everything. I lied to her, told her Luke was in love with someone else. I said we’d used her like we had so many; she was nothing, just another pussy. I didn’t realize how fragile she was, how broken. I pushed her, and her mind shattered.”

  “What happen to the baby?”

  “She lives in Idaho, somewhere. It was a closed adoption. Two years ago, Sandy petitioned to have the records opened. But the judge refused, due to her mental state.”

  “Tell me what happened that day, the day of the accident, and about… your heart.”

  “Sandy was right about the accident, it was my fault. Luke was upset about the pregnancy, and he had a bad cold. He’d taken some cold meds and shouldn’t have been driving. But I asked him to, so I could fuck some girl we picked up at a gas station. Her car had broken down and she needed a lift home. She was hot and I was horny, as always, so I told her we’d give her a ride if she let me fuck her. We would have given her a ride regardless; I was just messing with her. Luke was so pissed at me for taking advantage of her and I was so mad at him for giving in to Sandy. It was like a tug-of-war, neither one of us taking the advantage, getting ahead. All our arguments played out that way. It was as if even in disagreement we shared, gave half. He was drugged, mad, preoccupied, and driving too fast. When the truck crossed the median his reaction time was impaired.”

  “The girl?”

  A lone tear runs down his cheek.

  I wanted to get up and wipe it away, to kiss him better. I also wanted to hit him, yell at him for being such a selfish jerk, and for lying to me. Playing my own game of tug-of-war in my head, I do nothing, take no action, except to sit and watch the tear roll to his chin and fall to the cuff of his button-down.

  “Decapitated,” he whispers.

  “Dear God.”

  “She had a two-year-old son.”

  I say nothing to that. Not able to move my lips, to form words.

  He takes another swallow of scotch. “I’m sorry.”

  Finding my voice I ask, “Your heart?”

  “My heart was damaged in the accident. Luke suffered severe brain damage but his heart and the rest of his vital organs were undamaged, healthy.”

  “A heart transplant. You have his heart.”

  He nods. “He saved me. He was always saving me. Sandy was right. It should have been me. He was the good twin, I was the bad.”

  “Why, Logan? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “How could I tell the woman I love, the only one who could save me, why I needed to be saved? I didn’t think you’d forgive me, and I wanted to be loved, to be saved. So I did what I do best—I took.”

  “You had a heart attack?”

  He nods. “Yes. I lost consciousness during a game. Scar tissue from the transplant caused a blockage of my right ventricle.”

  “The Outer Banks? You were recovering?”

  He nods.

  I wipe tears off my cheek. “How many times have I run my lips, my fingers, over that scar, and you said nothing? Did you think you could keep this from me? I’d never find out? I felt terrible for not telling you who I was, about my past. You told me you were an open book, had nothing to hide.”

  He shakes his head. “I wanted to tell. I just…”

  “Just what, Logan?”

  He turns and looks at me. “Did you know you have nightmares? That you cry out in your sleep, beg Lane, and sometimes Lex, not to leave you?”

  I blink more tears away. “No. I didn’t know.”

  “A few days after I moved into the loft, you started dreaming about me. You’d say things like ‘don’t leave, don’t die.’ It’s as if you were waiting, expecting something to happen to me, something bad. I wanted to tell you; I was going to tell you, but I knew you’d freak out. I knew you’d worry even though I’m fine; I’m healthy.”

  He’s right; he’s figured me out. Figured what I fear most.

  “You never stop worrying, never stop fearing. When Lex would call unexpectedly, you’d all but hyperventilate. It takes everything you have to get through one of my games. And the last couple of days, you’ve been putting on a good show, but I know it’s killing you to be here, to be away from Lex and the babies.”

  I reach for the scotch. He hands it to me and I down half of it. Looking out at rows of firs, I tell him the truth, my lie. “Everyone I’ve ever loved, I’ve lost. I feel as if I’m cursed, as if I’m a bad penny everyone I love carries around in his or her pocket and can’t get rid of. Do you believe in signs, warnings?”

  “Warnings?”

  “Lane and I fought the morning of our engagement party. I loved him very much, but I knew in my heart, in my gut, that we shouldn’t be getting married. I knew we needed to take a step back, slow things down until we could figure it all out. But he made me feel guilty and convinced me that we’d work things out after the party. The night before our party, I’d dreamt of my mother. I hadn’t dreamt of her or my dad in years. In my dream she said, ‘set it free.’”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I didn’t know until after Lane was gone. We were staying in a hotel in Seattle. Lex, Jax, the boys and me. Lex came to my room the morning I was to leave on a road trip.”

  “The trip in Lane’s Mustang?”

  I nod. I forgot I’d told him about it. “Lex and I had very few shared memories of my mom, her being distant, and me being so young. But one memory we shared was how much my mom loved to stargaze. I don’t know why or how she knew so much about them, but her face would light up when she talked about them. She would take Lex and me to the roof of our apartment building, and we would lie back on a blanket and she’d point out the constellations, tell stories about them, who discovered them, stuff like that. And every time before we would head back into our apartment, she would reach her hand up to the sky, catch a star, hold it in her hand, kiss it, and then set it free.�
��

  “Your tattoo. ‘Love them, then set them free.’”

  I nod. “That morning Lex told me about an incident, a conversation she’d had with Lane years before. They had climbed onto the roof of a garage at the Ryan Estate to watch a meteor shower. And Lane reached up to the sky, caught a star, kissed it, and—”

  “Set it free,” he whispers.

  “Lex and I had never seen anyone but my mom do it. She asked Lane if Mary had taught him, showed him. He told her he’d seen it in a dream.”

  “Fuck.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “So the dream of your mom, you think she was telling you to set him free, to not marry him?”

  “Yes. When Lex told me that story, I knew it was a sign and I’d failed to heed it.”

  He shakes his head. “You can’t blame yourself for his death.”

  “My parents’ car went off the road when they were on their way to visit me at school. It was bad weather. They shouldn’t have been on the road, but I had begged them to visit. My gut told me I was being selfish. My best friend in boarding school, Hanna, didn’t want to go skiing in Switzerland. I talked her into going even though it felt wrong, felt off. On our first run of the morning, she skied into a tree, died instantly. My best friend in college was killed crossing the road; a drunk driver hit him. He was on his way to meet with me. I was supposed to meet him at his place, but I was running late. I called him and wanted to reschedule, but he insisted we meet; he had exciting news to tell me. My gut told me to call him back, tell him not to come over, but I didn’t. He was going to ask his girlfriend to marry him. He’d just picked up the ring, couldn’t wait to show me.”

  “Angel, it’s just life; things happen. You can’t always control it.”

  “Maybe not, but each time I knew in my gut to take some kind of action and I didn’t. My gut told me not to fall in love with you, but I did. My gut told me something wasn’t right, something was broken in you. My heart told me I was the only one who could fix you, make you whole. And I still believe that, but can’t ignore my gut. It’s telling me right now to take action, to stop thinking with my heart, and to step back.”

  “Sam, my heart is fine. I’m healthier than 90 percent of the population.”

  “It’s not just your health that’s concerning me; it’s everything that’s happening around us. It’s Luke, Sandy, Jared, Lex, the babies, our cancelled holiday, a possible saboteur on one of my projects, other happenings I’m not allowed to tell you about. My life is hectic and crazy, but not to this extreme. My gut is telling me to take a step back and figure it out. I can’t help but think and feel that if I don’t, something bad will happen to you, and I won’t do that to you.”

  He kneels in front of me. “That’s just crazy. Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

  “It might be crazy; I might me crazy. But I can’t ignore it.”

  “You’re leaving me?”

  “No, Logan. I’m not leaving you. I’m stepping back; I’m taking some time to figure things out. To heed the warning in my gut that I’ve been too selfish to do in the past. If something happened to you, if you were hurt, or worse, killed, it would kill me. It would be my last undoing.”

  “I won’t let you leave me.”

  “I won’t let you stop me from stepping back.”

  He stands. “Then we are over, done.”

  “You don’t mean that?”

  “Step back and see.”

  Day five post break-up, voice mail….

  “Logan, it’s Sam. I wish you’d pick up. I’ll be in Dublin for a few more days. Things here are… crazy. Logan, I’m sorry about everything. I’m scared and confused about things, about us. Even though I’m breaking your heart as well as mine, I feel like I’m doing the right thing. I’m not saying it’s forever, I’m just saying it’s for now. I know you’re upset, pissed, and you don’t like me right now. But if you could at least try to look at things from my perspective, from a heart that has lost so much. You’ve lost your twin brother, your other half, your soul mate. How could you not imagine what losing almost everyone you’ve given you heart to feels like? God, Logan, why won’t you pick up?”

  Day six….

  “Logan, it’s Sam. Things here are… well, I can’t get into it. Anyway, Lee told me you moved out, and you’ve been staying with Matt and Allie. I’m sure with the baby coming and it only being a two-bedroom apartment, space is tight. I want to help, Logan. Grant International owns several apartments in the city, for clients and visitors. One at the Trump Towers just became vacant, and I’d like you to consider staying there until you can find a place. Please call me back.”

  Day eight….

  “Hey, man. It’s Matt. How’s the apartment? Allie and I think Sam’s the shit for breaking up with you, but at least you’ve got the Tower, right? Call me.”

  Day ten….

  “Romano, it’s Matt. Where the hell are you? We were supposed to meet up for a beer. Call me.”

  “Logan, it’s your mom. We haven’t heard from you. Your dad and I are worried. Please call.”

  “Logan, it’s Allie, remember me? Hey, I spoke with Sam and you’re an ass. She told me she didn’t break up with you, that she just asked for some time to figure things out. She said that you were the one that ended things. Call me, asshole. Oh, and by the way, I will always be your best friend, asshole or not.”

  Day eleven….

  “Hey bro, it’s Steph. You haven’t returned my e-mails or texts. What the hell? You better call me. Logan, I’m serious. Pick up the goddamn phone.”

  Day thirteen….

  “Hey, motherfucker. What the hell? Al and I are at the door. Let us in. We can’t stand here forever.”

  “Tell him I have to pee.”

  “Did you hear that, man? My wife has to pee. Open the goddamn door. Please.”

  Day sixteen….

  “Logan, it’s Allie. Stop being an asshole. Pick up the phone? I miss you.”

  Day twenty….

  “Logan, it’s me, Sam. Please pick up. Allie just called me. She and Matt are worried about you. So am I. Please call.”

  Day twenty-five….

  “Logan, it’s your dad. Pick up the damn phone!”

  “Uncle Logan. Um. Hi. It’s me, Krissy, your princess. Remember me? Call Mommy and Daddy. I have a new dress and I cleaned my room. Daddy put the baby crib parts together last night. It was in a big box. He said lots of no-no words. But don’t tell Mommy. It’s a secret. Mommy’s tummy is big. She cried. She said she’s a whale. Mommy is so silly. Daddy said you’re a dick. But I love silly you.”

  Day twenty-seven….

  “Hey, Logan, it’s Jared. Um… Mom and Dad said you’re not returning e-mails or calls. Just wanted you to know that Sandy is back in therapy. I love her, Logan, even though she’s lied to me for years about you and Luke. I wish we had talked and you had told us everything. Oh well, what’s done, is done. I guess. Mom, Dad and the rest of us are worried about you. Call them. Call me, okay?”

  Day thirty….

  “Motherfucker! Pick up the phone!”

  “Logan, it’s Mom. Please call.”

  Day thirty-two….

  “Mr. Romano, this is Kelly Stevenson. I’m the property manager at Trump Towers. I’ve e-mailed and left messages at your door and with the doorman, Howard. Howard seems to be the only one who’s seen you, and can verify that you are indeed alive. Please call me ASAP, Mr. Romano, it’s important.”

  “Logan, it’s your agent, Hank Barnes. Remember me? Remember we had an appointment this morning? I’ve e-mailed and texted you at least a dozen times. And I’ve been calling you for weeks. This is the first time your mailbox wasn’t full. Logan, I talked to Matt. He told me you’re going through some personal shit. I’m sorry about that, kid, but we need to talk about your future with the Rangers. They want to meet. They called me, Logan. That means they want to negotiate. Call me. Please.”

  Day thirty-five….

  �
��Logan, pick up, please. Matt and I are seriously worried. This has gone on for too long.”

  “Logan, it’s Sam. What the hell is going on? Matt and Allie have called me, your parents, your siblings, your manager, and I just received a third message from the property manager at the Tower. She told me it was imperative she speaks with you. I’m in Hong Kong. It looks like I’m going to be here for a couple of weeks. Please call me, Logan. I’m worried about you.”

  Day thirty-seven….

  “Mr. Romano, this is Kelly Stevenson, again. I’ve called and e-mailed you several times and you haven’t responded. I’ve also had Howard attach messages to your take-out and liquor deliveries. So I know you’ve received them. It’s imperative that you respond. ASAP.”

  Day forty….

  “Logan, it’s Sam. Leaving notes on your door telling everyone you’re alive and to fuck off isn’t funny. I need to talk to you, Logan. I’m worried and… I miss you. For fuck sakes, call me.”

  Day forty-two….

  “Mr. Romano, this is Kelly Stevenson, again. Howard said you got my notices that the apartment is being rented out and you need to vacate as soon as possible. We’ve also been getting complaints about odors coming from your apartment. Knowing that you are a personal friend of Ms. Grant’s, I’ve left several messages with her. Her PA called me and told me she’s in London, and asks that you call her.”

  Day forty-five….

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  “Logan!” Allie yells. “Matt and I are coming in. Sam got us a key. Sam’s mad as hell, by the way.”