by Tanya Holmes
Her words had never left me: “There was a time when he lit up a room just by entering it. He was easygoing, charming, artistic, and very expressive.”
“Remember now?” When I nodded, she said, “Does that sound anything like the Braeden we know and love? He’s a lot of things, but…well, you get the idea.”
That she’d referred to him in the present tense made me feel a little better. “You’re right, and that’s what drove me crazy. Your description didn’t sound anything like him.”
“Of course it didn’t.” She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “Now consider Xavier. He definitely lights up a room, but easygoing and charming?” She shook her head. “No. Grating is more like it. And as far as being artistic and expressive, neither of them fits the bill because the split stifled their creativity.” Angela lifted a brow. “But when you combine the two….”
I stared back at her in amazement. “You weren’t talking about Braeden that day, were you?”
“No. It’s always been about Ian. That’s the point I’m trying to make. Your men were two extreme personalities on opposite ends of an unsustainable scale, two extremes that would have eventually flamed out. Without balance, they would have died, Denieve. Understand that. So this journey was never solely about Braeden or Xavier. Not as individuals. It was about the two of them coming together in order for Ian to find himself again.” She let that sink in. “If you love them, then you’ll love my son because Braeden and Xavier are Ian.”
Confusion swarmed my mind. “This is all so….”
“I know, dear. It’s overwhelming. And I do understand your doubts. I was mortal and pregnant when they murdered my husband. The only difference in our circumstances is that the men you love didn’t die.” She nudged her chin at the door. “Now go on. He’s waiting for you.”
He’s waiting…
I feigned confidence as she pecked my cheek, then sent me off with Kind Eyes.
On the elevator ride, something Xavier said came screaming back: “…Only Whole Yorecks share memories. Healthy unified Yorecks. That’s when you know you’ve got a true One, because they’re thinking as One.”
While fractured, the twins only shared feelings. So if the Join was successful…if Ian really was Braeden and Xavier, he’d know them inside and out. Their emotions. Experiences. Even obscure recollections.
Then again, something else Xavier said caused me to doubt everything: “[Braeden] knew how to fake it. All Fractured Yorecks do. That’s how we hid our splintering from the public for so long.”
To which, I’d asked: “How easy was it to fake it?”
His answer? “Very. We got so good at it no one could really tell who was driving the car. Including Angela.”
He’d also said they knew each other backward and forward. So how could I be sure who was who? What if one faked it because the other didn’t survive? Any sign Ian gave could’ve come from simple observation. Or knowledge shared from a conversation. Xavier eavesdropped when he was supposed to be asleep in the void. And Braeden had admitted many times that Xavier told him everything. So was there anything they didn’t know about each other?
Then again, what if Ian couldn’t remember the suit of armor falling apart? Or Xavier’s diadem and Belgian waffles? Or why I hate slasher movies? If he didn’t know these things that would be definitive proof that something horrible happened to one or both of them.
I was so confused my brain was about to explode.
On the twelfth floor, Kind Eyes led me down a long hallway to the last door on the left. Once she punched in a series of numbers on a wall console, a buzzer went off and the door clicked open. It was another observation chamber, only this one had a two-way phone. The setup reminded me of those prison visitors’ rooms.
Ian was lying on a table. Heart monitor probes covered his chest. The tiny gurney beneath him couldn’t contain his broad shoulders or the endless length of his legs. His bare feet peeked several inches past the end.
The second he saw me he tore the wires off. His muscles rippled as he slipped from the table and stood with purpose. Tilting his head to the side, he approached the floor-to-ceiling glass window with an air of confidence. That’s what I noticed first. His stride. It was different, but the same. Sexier. More like a smooth prowl—a perfect blend of Xavier’s in-your-face swagger and Braeden’s effortless grace.
At the window, he stood stock-still, gauging my reaction, before easing into a chair. He set the phone to his ear, then motioned for me to do the same. For a moment he just sat there taking me in with an unblinking stare, his curious gaze intense, watchful.
Finally…
“God, how I’ve missed you.”
Those were Ian McBride’s first words to me.
CHAPTER 30
MORTAL VISITING/VIEWING ROOM
TORRANCE HOSPITAL
ASPEN, COLORADO
Denieve
____________________________
His voice was another perfect blend of both of them: deep and raspy, but silky smooth around the edges. He also had a heavier brogue. And his eyes—up close, they were mesmerizing, a brilliant shade of gunmetal blue with flecks of light gray and gold. I’d seen those eyes tornado night. But they seemed different now: Focused. Penetrating.
This unsettling paradox was hard to process. So I went searching for the familiar, searching for Braeden and Xavier. Angela may have gotten her “boy” back, but I desperately needed my men. Were they still in there?
“It’s so good to see your face,” Ian said. “I’ve been out my mind worrying about you.” He shifted, allowing me a clear view of my reflection in the glass. I looked bewildered. “Talk to me. How are you? Is everything all right?”
“Yes,” I lied. “Everything’s fine.” Inside, my heart screamed: Where are Xavier and Braeden? but instead I asked, “How about you?”
“Better now that you’re here. Much better,” he told me. “Oh, before I forget again. I meant to tell you the other day on the phone. Luke accepted my offer. The Elders moved him to a reeducation facility. He’s doing fine.”
Though I was relieved about Luke, I was more fixated on the last two words of Ian’s fifth sentence. He’d said, my offer.
Not Braeden’s.
“How’s the baby?” he asked.
I cleared my throat. “She’s fine.”
“He,” Ian corrected with a knowing smile. “Remember?”
Of course I did, but he hadn’t told me that. Xavier had.
“You’re pale.” His brows crashed together. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”
Dread set in, but I pushed past it and forced the question I’d been dying to ask from my mouth. “No, I haven’t. I’ve been worried about Braeden and Xavier. Are they okay?”
“Don’t I look okay?”
That is not what I asked him. There was no perfect way to put this, so I just blurted it out. “Who are you?”
He slowly edged forward and searched my face for several endless moments. In a deliberate and concise voice, he said, “Who I’ve always been. The man you love.”
He’d flustered me with that one. “I loved…” My Freudian slip made him blink. “I mean, I love Braeden and Xavier.” It hurt like hell to say it, but I wasn’t about to start our relationship off with a lie. Been there. Done that. “The truth is, Ian, I don’t know you. Not yet anyway.”
A light faded in his eyes. Obviously my words hit a target I hadn’t aimed for and it felt horrible, but he collected himself in short measure. “Well...” He swallowed, studying me in uneasy silence, then…“I guess I have my work cut out for me.”
“But this shouldn’t be ‘work.’” Or awkward and stilted like it is now. I sighed. “It should be—”
“Easy?”
“Yes. Like it was before.”
His brows crested. “When did you become a revisionist? There was nothing ‘easy’ about our relationship.”
Relationships, but whatever. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I d
o.” Ian eased back, stretched his legs out, and crossed them at the ankles. He was quiet as he watched me intently for what seemed like forever. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until he said, “Tell me what you need.”
God only knew. “Are you…are they—” I shook my head in frustration. “Can I please speak to Braeden?”
“You’re speaking to him, sweetheart.”
I so wanted to believe that, but… “And Xavier? What about him?”
“Ditto.” He shifted in his chair again. His eyes, dark and probing, were fixed on me with unyielding concentration. “I once told you to think in threes, but now I need you to think of just One, and that One is me.”
My muscles tensed. He was doing it again. Taking ownership of something the twins had said. “But I had that conversation—”
“With Xavier.”
“Yes.”
“Then you had it with me.” The chair legs squeaked as he scooted forward. “I know it’s hard to fathom, but it’s the truth. I’m here, D. All of me. I never left you. Ever.”
My heart fluttered. He’d called me D. “Xavier?”
“Yes.” Ian pressed a hand to his chest. “It’s me.”
“But it’s not you. You’re….”
“Me. The guy who couldn’t get enough of you in the bunker. Yeah. That guy. Well, he’s me. And I’m alive and well, just like before.”
I shook my head. “How can you say that? Nothing’s the same.”
“Yeah, it is.” Determination sharpened his features. “I have dual memories—like the night I kicked your bedroom door down. Remember that? Well, I do too, but I also remember blowing your phone up with texts from my condo.”
Color me bewildered. “How does that work? Because it sounds confusing.”
“On the contrary. My dual memories give me greater perspective.” His confident nod fortified his words. “See, I remember in vivid detail how I felt—the jealousy and insecurity, the not knowing. But that’s gone now because I have the full picture.”
“And that is?”
He thought about it. “Okay, lets start with the GPS I installed on your car—”
“Wait. What?”
He gestured dismissively. “It’s not important. The point is I was mad because of that rude text you sent me. So I drove over.”
“I was rude to you?”
The serious look on his face was almost comical. It was soooo Xavier. “Yeah, you were, but I’ve forgiven you. Anyway, I didn’t like not knowing where you’d gone, so I came by and installed the GPS on your car—that’s how I found you at Luke’s. But back to the GPS thing, I didn’t leave after I did it. I sat out there for at least an hour afterward debating with myself. Should I stay? Go? Pop in? Maybe call or text you again? Decisions, decisions. In the end, I just went home and played with my sharks. And it’s a good thing I did.”
He had me spellbound. “Why?”
“It would’ve been awkward. I mean, you were a tad busy.” He lifted a seductive brow. “In bed. With me.”
There it was. The smolder. Braeden’s smolder. My heart reacted as it always did—skipping and bumping around in my chest.
A devilish grin slowly inched across his mouth. “Then again, make-up sex was always good between us. That time in your bed is my personal favorite.” Heat colored my face as his indomitable gaze clung to mine. “You know why?”
I barely managed a “No.”
“Because after we quarreled about Samuel, and you walked out to meet your friends, I honestly thought you’d left me. When you finally came back, I was so out of my mind, I couldn’t think straight. That’s why I kicked your door down. I had to be near you. And once I got you in that bed”—Ian looked me over, slowly, provocatively—“I wanted to stay there, inside you all night. I still remember your hair, how it smelled of lilacs. How you tasted. The way you clawed my back and shattered beneath me. God, it was perfect. I’d never known such bliss.”
My breathing became labored. It’s any wonder the phone didn’t snap in half—I gripped it that hard.
“D…” He shook his head and sighed, “My love…”
There was a quiet intensity in his voice, a longing and tenderness that reached straight through the glass and squeezed my heart. His face, his desperate expression, it was so Braeden. At the same time, his piercing eyes burned with Xavier’s passion and carnality. It was so raw and real, that every place his gaze landed, my skin tingled.
“Being away from you in Ireland was a bitch,” he continued. “I was clueless about what was going on, and the texts only made it worse. I imagined so many insane scenarios….” He smiled to himself. “But now I know everything. Because I was right there during our food war—debating Marlowe, making the diadem, serenading you, caressing your hand in the water…. I wanted you so bad it scared me.”
I was trembling.
Ian’s eyes drifted shut as he bit his bottom lip. “But after that first taste of your mouth, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. And when you ran away, it hurt more than I cared to admit. That’s why I wrecked my suite. I had to see you, but you wouldn’t open the door. So I teleported into your room to watch you sleep.” His enigmatic gaze locked on me again. “I did the same thing at the bunker. Yes, I watched you sleep every night—for hours. You didn’t know that, did you?”
I shook my head in awe.
“Sweetheart, those were the best three days of my life. I wouldn’t change a second of it. Even when you blew a hole in my head.” He pressed a palm to the glass, his eyes steady. “So when I tell you you’re talking to Braeden and Xavier, it’s true. I’m here, D. Like I said before, I never left you and I never will. Do you have any idea how liberating this is for me? To feel again—freely, without constraints? To love myself completely and not be conflicted? To have a full picture of my life? But it’s more than that. So much more…because I got to fall in love with you twice.”
Tears stung as I lifted my hand to the glass, aligning it with his. “Oh, my God…”
He pulled his hand away and inched forward to kiss the glass where my palm rested. Then he drew back and whispered, “You’re the love of my life, Miss Reed.”
I couldn’t breathe. “Braeden?”
“Yes. In the flesh.”
A white-coated attendant stood beside him, invading the fragile connection we’d forged. “Time’s up, Mr. McBride.”
* * *
MY ROOM
TORRANCE HOSPITAL
ASPEN, COLORADO
Denieve
____________________________
Ian stayed on my mind all day. And when it came time to go to sleep, the man even haunted my dreams.
During our first face-to-face meeting, he’d exhibited a confidence I couldn’t deny. And his presence filled the room. I’m not sure what I’d expected, but from my vantage point, he seemed to be a balanced combination of my men. He’d spoken of intimacies we’d shared, tapped into explicit memories with accuracy, claiming them as his own.
He’d touched me, truly and deeply.
It appeared that Braeden and Xavier had beaten the odds. That they’d achieved a true Oneness. Yes, I still had doubts, but I had to get past them. For Ian’s sake, I had to accept that he was the embodiment of both of them.
However—and this was a big however—he was also very much his own man. And there was the rub: Ian’s personhood. A part of me still longed for the good old days, when Braeden and Xavier walked this earth in two separate bodies. At least then I knew what I was getting. Now I didn’t know what to expect.
But the “familiar” was what I wanted, and what I wanted wasn’t what was best for them. So, yeah, I got it, but that didn’t mean I could just accept this new reality without question. I needed time to sort through my feelings.
Could I love Ian for Ian? Or would I spend the rest of our lives trying to split him in half again?
Those questions and more still plagued me the next morning. I’d just finished brushing my teeth—this after spending th
irty minutes hugging the toilet with morning sickness—when Angela arrived to break the news that our Asylum orders had come in. They’d assigned us to some crusty old castle in Cambridge, England for the next five to ten years. Which meant we’d be leaving the United States and Ian McBride behind.
“Why can’t I stay here until he’s cleared?” I asked from my perch in a corner chair, nursing a mini-bottle of seltzer water.
Angela tried to look upbeat as she set my bags on the bed. “The Yoreck are sticklers for rules. Orders are orders. And we have ours. We’ve got to be at the processing center in four hours.” She unzipped a suitcase and started packing for me. “Trust me, dear. You have nothing to worry about. Ian’s on track for discharge next week.”
“But I won’t be here with him. And neither will you. He’ll be alone in this…” I scanned my room distastefully. “Viper’s nest.”
“They stayed here six weeks after the Divide—mostly due to Xavier’s adjustment issues. He had a difficult time dealing with his lost humanity. Braeden adapted to the change fine. He just walled his heart off. The people here took very good care of them both. Other than the xenophobia, I have no problems with this facility.” The joy in her eyes outshone her smile. “I’m just happy I got my boy back.”
Given the years of separation from her child, Angela was still on a sugar high. I couldn’t fault her for feeling as she did, but by the same token, I was still pining for my men, while desperately trying to see them in her “boy.”
I took a sip of seltzer. “Does Ian know we’re leaving?”
She tucked my slippers into one of the inner pockets. “I have no idea. If he doesn’t, I’d rather you break it to him.”
Not something I was looking forward to.
There was a loud knock at the door. Angela pulled it open to reveal a twentyish attendant with short-cropped red hair and anxious green eyes standing in the hallway.
“Can I help you, Mr…” Angela read his nametag. “O’Rourke?”
He looked past her. “Ms. Knight, I need you to come with me at once.”
“What’s going on?” Angela asked.
