by Monica James
It’s coming up to twelve o’clock, and there’s still no sign of Sophia. I don’t know whether or not that’s a good or bad thing.
Piper’s inappropriate, but hilarious comments have kept me entertained, but at the back of my mind, I’m constantly thinking about Sam, and how his session is going.
“Do you think they’re identical all over? Inside and out?”
Piper’s odd question stops me in my tracks. “You’re not asking me what I think you’re asking me, are you?”
“That all depends.”
“On what?”
She continues staring at Saxon, who is bent over the broken fence, repairing a missing panel. “On if you’re talking about their dicks or not.”
I burst out laughing. Stroking Potter’s neck, I shake my head. “I’m not having this conversation with you, Piper.”
“And why not?” She finally turns to face me, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Because I don’t want to be talking about…Saxon’s junk.” I whisper the last two words, not wanting Saxon to overhear. My confession has me blushing.
She taps a finger against her lips, deep in thought. “Well, genetically speaking, Saxon’s junk should be identical to Sam’s. Therefore, it’s kind of like you telling me about Sam’s cock. So, I need details.”
I cover Potter’s ears, cackling loudly. “You are so inappropriate.”
“No, I’m curious about my future husband’s Mr. Happy, so quit holding out on me.” I know Piper and she won’t give up unless I tell her the gory details.
I guess she’s right. Sam’s bits are probably identical to Saxon’s, so it’s not like I’m envisioning Saxon’s junk as I describe how amazingly perfect it is.
For some unexplained reason, my gaze fixes on an unsuspecting Saxon, making this easier to explain. Licking my lips, I grin, feeling utterly wicked. “It’s big, like really big.”
“How big?” she asks, leaning against the railing and focusing on what I am.
“Big enough.”
Piper squeals while I shush her, not wanting Saxon to hear.
His sinewy body ripples in all the right places when he strikes a sledgehammer over his head and down onto the fencepost. A sheen of sweat coats my heated body, and I swallow.
“He’s so… elegantly long and thick.” I pause, my breathing mounting. “Sam’s not a hairy guy, but he has a perfect dark, soft scruff painting his bellybutton which leads…down. The curls highlight his toned V muscle. But the scruff, it’s groomed. It makes what he has so manly.”
My cheeks heat, my body trembles, and I’m absentmindedly biting my lip as I focus on Saxon. “When we have sex, Pipe, he knows all the right moves.”
“Holy shit,” she pants. “I think I just had a mini orgasm.”
“Me too,” I lazily reply, my eyes still rooted on Saxon as he wipes the sweat from his brow with his inked forearm. “I know I’m no expert on the matter, but I think it’s fair to say—” Piper shrieks “—everything is pretty damn perfect.”
Even though I’ve known Piper since I was twelve, I’ve always been quite reserved and shy when it comes to talking about my sex life. Compared to Piper’s sexual escapades, I guess mine was boring anyway. I’ve only ever had one partner, but that partner was more than enough. But talking about it now, it gives me a weird sense of sexual liberation.
I fan my cheeks, feeling an unfamiliar wave of…something pass over my body. At that precise moment, Saxon lifts his head. I’m pinned to the spot when he affixes those eyes on me and doesn’t let go.
I don’t know how he knows, but he knows what we’re talking about. His cocky, slanted smile reveals it.
“Luce, he is so hot.”
“I—” I suddenly stop myself. What am I saying? I know? No, I don’t know. It is highly inappropriate to be looking at my fiancé’s twin this way. Identical or not, I shouldn’t be checking him out, and that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.
Thankfully, Piper is too caught up in Saxon’s sex appeal to notice my guilt. But he isn’t. He watches me, a hand shielding his eyes from the bright sun as he cocks his head to the side. He wears the perfect poker face while I’m struggling to breathe.
The door slams shut and raised voices are not exactly the distraction I wanted, but it’s a distraction nonetheless. “Get out! You’re not welcome here anymore.”
I spin suddenly, my heart sinking when I see Samuel storming from the house. Sophia is following behind, her usual smile now replaced with a frown. I want to race after Samuel, but Piper latches onto my arm. “Leave him. If she can’t talk to him, then I doubt you’ll have any luck.”
She’s right. Every time I endeavor to console Sam, it blows up in my face. I can’t deal with another shit fit just yet.
I watch with interest as Sophia stops trailing after Sam and stops by Saxon’s side. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I’m hoping its advice we can all use. Saxon nods, and she smiles.
I can’t take the suspense any longer, so I head over to where they stand. “Hi, Sophia. How’d it go?”
Her grim expression says it all. “It’s going to take time. Samuel is being extremely stubborn and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was in no hurry to remember.”
I can’t keep the disappointment from my face. I stare at the ground without a sound. “What happened?”
She sighs. “It’s always hard for someone to hear what happened to them. I told Samuel about the accident. He didn’t take it well.”
When I bite my lip, she reaches out to gently comfort me. “This is normal, Lucy. For the time being, I think it’ll be best you don’t mention the crash. For the sake of an argument, let’s leave detailing his accident for therapy. It’ll avoid him lashing out. He’s going to have his good days and he’s going to have his bad days. At the moment, it’s normal for the bad to outdo the good. Some days you’ll see a glimmer of who he once was. And others…” She doesn’t need to continue as I know what she’s trying to say. “I’ll be back same time next week if that suits you?”
I nod, my eyes still averted.
“I’ve spoken to Saxon about trying to help pull those memories from him. I think you were right, Lucy. If anyone can help Samuel break through those walls, it’s Saxon.” Her reassurance means nothing to me because it leaves me feeling like chopped liver.
She says her goodbyes and I hear Saxon’s boots crunch over the grass as he walks her to her car. Piper rubs my arm, but it’s no use. Every time I feel a little better, something a hundred times worse happens and brings me back down.
“I’m going to take a nap.” I know I’ve only been up for a couple of hours, but I’m suddenly dog tired.
Piper doesn’t argue and sympathetically nods. “I’ll bring in some tea.”
I don’t bother answering because the next thing from my mouth will be a heartbreaking sob.
I lumber up the stairs, suddenly needing my mom. As I shut the bedroom door, I pull out the cell from my pocket and dial her number.
“Honey, how are you?” Her sweet voice is an instant salve.
“Awful,” I reply. There is no point sugar coating my feelings because she’ll see straight through my lies.
“What’s happened?”
“Oh, just the usual. Sam still hates me and now he won’t even talk to Sophia.” I collapse onto the bed, stomach first.
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“Despises then.”
She turns off the water, as I think I’ve caught her in the middle of washing up. “This is normal, Lucy. The doctors have said this will take time.”
“I know, Mom. You’re right. It’s just so hard. I want to hug him, tell him how much he means to me, but I know if I do, I’ll be greeted with that blank, apathetic look. It kills me.”
She sighs; my pain is her pain too. “I think you have to put yourself in his shoes. This is all incredibly new for him. You may remember, but he doesn’t. Be patient. You know he’d do the same for you.”
Sh
e’s right.
“Do you want me to come over?”
“No, Mom, I’m okay. I think I’m just going to take a nap.”
“Okay, honey. You call whenever you need us. Someday, you’re going to look back and understand the reason why this happened. I love you.”
As I snuggle under the blankets and welcome sleep, I hope that “someday” comes soon.
* * * * *
When I wake, I know I’ve slept the day away. It’s now dark out and I feel even worse than when I cried myself to sleep.
I know I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but when will this end? It’s only day two of Sam being home. How am I going to survive two more?
Rising slowly, I brush the matted hair from my eyes, looking around my deserted room. A room which once shared many happy memories is now filled with loneliness and despair. I suddenly have a desperate urge to move into the guest bedroom, but that won’t happen, seeing as Saxon is in the room that has a bed.
Thoughts of Saxon have me remembering my weird reaction toward him. Each moment spent with him, I’m beginning to see him as just Saxon, not Saxon, Sam’s identical twin. He’s becoming his own person and I’m afraid of how much I’m coming to rely on that being.
Kicking off the blanket, I take the plunge and swing my legs, placing my feet onto the cool floor. As I stand, my whining muscles scream in protest. I stretch overhead and crack my neck from side to side. The house is deadly quiet and I figure everyone is either asleep or out.
Reaching for my favorite yellow knitted pullover, I slip it on and decide to face the world and whoever is awake in it. My bare feet scuff over the floorboards as I amble down the hallway, in no real hurry to get to anywhere fast. The mouth-watering smells of chili con carne and refried beans linger in the air as I enter the kitchen, sending my sudden ravenous stomach into a frenzy.
Opening up the refrigerator, I see that Saxon made his Mexican feast after all. Too bad I was passed out and couldn’t enjoy it. The depressing thought makes me shut the door and have a glass of water instead.
Something shiny catches the iridescent moonlight as I stand in front of the window, downing my water. As I peer closer, a sense of relief surrounds me because I see that my Jeep is parked down the driveway. I know this was Saxon’s doing. Unlatching the backdoor, I step out onto the porch, drawing down the long sleeves of my pullover over my hands. There is a certain chill to the air, but that could just be my mood.
“Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Sweet mother of Jesus!” I yelp, clutching a hand to my racing heart as I whip my head to the right. Saxon is sitting in a rocking chair, puffing away on a smoke.
“Sorry.” He smirks. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine,” I reply, still trying to catch my breath. When I think I can speak without wheezing, I ask, “Where’s everyone?”
“You just missed Piper, and the last I saw, Sam was chopping wood.” I cock an eyebrow, but he shakes his head and shrugs.
I exhale loudly and slump down into the chair next to him. “Any luck breaking through those walls?” My tone is mocking.
“Nope.” He pops the P. “Those walls are as hard as Sam’s head. That doctor is crazy if she thinks I have any hope helping Sam.”
Deciding to forget about Sam for the moment, I nudge him with my elbow playfully. “That doctor is sweet on you.”
“What?” he replies. I can’t decide if his expression is horror or disgust.
“Sophia’s got a thing for you. Please don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?” When he sits blankly, scratching his temple, I know the answer is no, he hasn’t noticed. “Are you blind?” I scoff. “She’s been making googly eyes at you since the first moment she met you.”
“Googly eyes?” he questions, scrunching up his face. “Is that chick codeword for something, because I have no idea what that means?” He takes a long drag of his cigarette.
I can’t help but laugh at Saxon’s adorability. “She’s been checking you out, or in guy codeword, she’s been eye…fucking you.”
His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and I follow the movement, intrigued. “She’s okay, I suppose.”
“You suppose?” I chuckle, sitting higher in my chair. “She’s freaking gorgeous.” He shrugs, appearing unaffected.
Maybe I’ve misread the signs? But I’m sure there was chemistry there. There definitely was on her behalf. But by how unmoved Saxon currently is, maybe it’s a one-way street? The thought makes me snicker, and I don’t know why.
“Looks aren’t everything.”
“They sure are when they look like Sophia,” I rebuke, wanting to get a rise from him. Instead, I get honesty.
“She’s too smart for the likes of me.” He places his butt into the empty beer bottle beside him.
His comment makes me instantly forget my iniquity. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
“No, Saxon, it’s not,” I reply softly. “You’re incredibly smart. And incredibly kind, too.”
A gruff laugh explodes from his chest. “Kind? What a way to be put in the friend’s zone.”
We’re quiet for a moment, me mulling over his words.
“Maybe that’s my problem,” he reveals a moment later.
“What problem?” I ask, tucking my foot underneath me as I get comfortable.
“Why I’ve never had a serious girlfriend before.”
My mouth hangs open. Are the women of America blind?
“I don’t know if I should be offended or not by your stunned expression,” he mocks. “Do you think I’m some kind of manwhore? Actually—” he raises a finger “—don’t answer that. I’ve dated, and I use that term very loosely, plenty of women. Just none of them did it for me.”
I gulp as my curious mind wonders just how many women is “plenty of women.”
“Maybe you’ve been looking in the wrong places,” I suggest. I wish I’d kept my mouth shut however because it looks like I’ve just kicked a puppy.
He frowns, avoiding my eyes. “Maybe.”
I want to know more about Saxon, as I hope to uncover the truth about why he left Montana.
“Where did you go after you moved out?”
“Which time?” he asks, smirking.
“The first time,” I reply, wanting to go back to the beginning.
“The first time I moved out was when I turned eighteen. I moved in with Laura Rose.”
I can’t help but screw up my face in revulsion. “Laura Rose was…” But I pause, as the next word out of my mouth was surely going to be a curse word.
But Saxon reads my train of thought. “A tramp?” he offers, while I nervously pull at an imaginary thread on my jeans, not confirming or denying his claims.
“It’s okay, Lucy. We all know what she was. She knew what she was.”
“And yet you chose to move out with her. Why?” I ask, unable to hide my confusion.
He shrugs, reaching for the pack of Marlboros off the arm of his chair. Lighting another cigarette, he replies, “Even though I had my suspicions that instead of working she was cheating with the entire staff at McDonalds, it was better than living at home. And besides…” He smirks. “I didn’t have to put the hard yards in with her.”
I choke on air. Gathering my composure, I ask, “How long did it last?”
He chuckles, peering off into the distance as if remembering the time. “Not long. Six months, give or take.”
“I don’t remember you coming home. Where did you go after that?”
“I moved in with Pauly. I lived there for three years. Fun times,” he says, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “We used to jam in his shitty little garage. We thought we were the Rolling Stones.” He chuckles, revealing this memory as a fond one.
“I didn’t know you were in a band. What do you play?” I ask, thoroughly intrigued.
“I wouldn’t really call it a band. More like a clutter of noise,” he replies, tongue in cheek. “I play
ed guitar and sung.”
“What? No way. Samuel has zero musical talent. I’ve heard him sing in the shower and honestly, I thought two cats were getting slaughtered in there.”
A graveled laugh leaves Saxon’s chest. “I never said I was any good.”
“I bet you are.”
He cocks his head to the side and the movement causes his hair to tumble forward, masking one eye. “How do you know that?”
“I just do. You’ve got this air of mystery to you. I bet that helped write songs.”
When he falls quiet, I kick myself, as I hope he doesn’t take offense. I’m thankful when a dimpled smirk touches his cheeks.
“Air of mystery, I like it. It’s better than an air of disappointment.” When his tone turns sour, it’s not hard to guess why.
Taking a deep breath, I hesitantly ask, “Why don’t you and Sam get along? I’m sorry to pry, but there’s got to be a reason. I know he was a jerk to you growing up, but there’s something more, isn’t there?”
“There is,” he confirms, his jaw clenched.
The fact he doesn’t elaborate is my hint that he’s not interested in sharing what that reason is. I don’t want to spoil this moment, so I don’t press. Saxon will hopefully trust me enough one day to tell me.
“That’s it?” he poses when I remain silent. “You’re not going to ask me why?”
“I could ask, but I doubt you’ll answer, so why waste my breath?” I reply smartly.
“You assume correctly,” he counters playfully.
Saxon is so easy to talk to. It makes me wish that we spoke more when we were growing up. But I guess we both lived our lives and followed the paths we thought were the right ones to take. It’s hard to imagine where we would be if Samuel and Saxon actually got along. But I’m a big believer that everything happens for a reason. I have to remind myself of that as I see a dark figure emerging from the barn.
My mood instantly dampens and I exhale deeply. Saxon reads the mood shift and offers me a smoke. I chuckle, but decline.
