by Kreig, K. L.
But I also have to know why she betrayed me and I need to do some deep soul-searching to find forgiveness. Right now I’m too hurt to even think about that. Answers first, forgiveness later. Before I can change my mind, my hand raises and pounds loudly on their door. I knock several times before it swings open and a very irate Addy stands in front me, pulling the sash tight on her short robe.
“What in the fuck are you doing here, asshole? And you do realize it’s the middle of the fucking night, right?”
“It’s Saturday night. Not like you have to get up and go to work tomorrow.”
“Oh. My. God.” She starts to slam the door in my face and luckily my foot makes it in the crack just in time to stop it from breaking my nose.
“Fuck,” I curse, shoving it back open.
She stands there with her arms across her chest and her legs spread like a warrior princess preparing to protect all that she cares about in the world. And maybe she is…her friend. “You need to leave. You’ve already done enough to Livia. She’s a barely functioning, vomiting, zombie wreck.”
“She’s the wreck?” I ask indignantly, even though all I remember now is the throwing up part and Conn’s comment about her losing weight. My stomach twinges. “Did she tell you what she did to me? I think you have the wrong version of the story here, sweetheart. You know what, this is none of your business.” I push past her and head down the hallway to Livvy’s bedroom, all the while Addy’s pulling my arm, trying to stop me.
And the second I throw open her door, I know why. I feel like someone has reached inside my body and violently ripped out every single organ I have. My lungs won’t work. My stomach is in my shoes. My bleeding, beating heart is lying on the floor at my feet and my soul is...my soul is crumbling right before my very eyes.
My girlfriend, former fiancée, and woman that I love to the depths of my very being is laying in the arms of not only another man, but a man who I never thought I’d see again. Never wanted to see again. A man who is dead to me.
My twin brother.
Chapter 44
I awake from a deep sleep to sounds of yelling and screaming and furniture being broken. Blinking several times to clear the haze in my brain, I take in my surroundings. I’m in my bedroom and Grant isn’t here. My door is wide open, the hall light spilling into the darkness. A quick glance at the digital clock shows it’s after midnight. I hear Addy screaming stop and wonder what in the hell is going on. I’m decent, still dressed in my sweats and t-shirt, so I quickly head out into the living room, but I’m so dizzy, I have to stop half way down and hang onto the wall for support. When I finally make it to the edge of the hall, what I see stops me short.
Gray is here. And on the ground trading punches with Grant. Gray’s mouth is bleeding and his blue polo shirt is ripped down the front. Blood pours from Grant’s nose and the black t-shirt he’s wearing is pulled almost over his head.
Addy’s running around hitting them both with a yardstick, trying to break up the fight. If they both didn’t look like they wanted to kill each other, I’d almost laugh at how utterly ridiculous she looks wielding a three feet long piece of wood that’s doing about as much good as a plastic baseball bat.
“Hey!” I yell, weakly. Not one of the three acknowledges me. My vision starts to blur and my ears buzz. My head feels heavy and their voices sound further away every second. I’ve fainted once in my life before and this feels an awful lot like that. “Hey,” I yell again, but it comes out on a whispered croak.
The last thing I remember before I crumble into a heap to the floor is three sets of eyes latching onto mine. I try to fight it, but can’t stop the darkness from coming for me.
_____________
The inside of my mouth feels like I’ve swallowed paste. An annoying beep chimes in the background. I reach over to turn off my alarm, but my hand hits air. I lay still, struggling to open my eyes, but low, angry voices in the background cause one to crack.
Gray and Grant are in the corner arguing, and their voices continue to get louder and louder. Even from here, I can see both their faces look worse for the wear. Gray has a swollen lip and the beginnings of a black eye. Grant still has dried blood on his face and his cheek looks swollen. Their clothes look disheveled and there’s a trail of dried blood dotted down the front of their shirts.
I look around and see Addy curled up in a chair, sleeping. I’m in a room that looks sterile with dingy yellow walls and that hard tile looking floor that seems that it would be indestructible, even as the earth burns at the end of days. A window with dirty looking plastic blinds sits in the middle of the far wall and a small TV hangs in the corner of the ceiling.
I’m in the hospital. Shit.
“Stop,” I croak, but my weak attempt at speaking can’t be heard above their escalating voices. I try to sit up, but still feel too tired. I take a deep breath and say it again, this time getting their attention. They both rush to either side of my bed, but neither touches me. It makes me sad and a fresh set of tears well up again. I’m so sick and tired of crying, I could scream. The fact that I’m unable to control my emotions this past week, when I’ve had them locked tighter than Fort Knox for years is just plain pissing me off. I swipe at the moisture and strengthen my resolve.
Grant pushes a button on the side of my hospital bed, which slowly sits me up. I look down and notice I’m in a hospital gown, instead of my sweats and t-shirt.
“How are you?” he asks softly.
I shake my head. I don’t really know how I am. “How long have I been here?”
Gray answers, “Twelve hours.”
Twelve hours? I do remember coming to a couple of times, but it didn’t register where I was. “Did they admit me?”
He nods. “You’re severely dehydrated.” He points to the IV that I only now notice is attached to a tube coming out of the top of my hand. “They ran some tests, but won’t give us any information, because we’re not family.” I wince at his last word. Gray and Grant feel more like family to me than anyone else, except Alyse.
“I’ll call for the nurse,” Grant says, pushing another button on the side of my fancy bed that apparently has everything I need for a comfortable stay. I want to go home.
“You need to leave,” Gray spits, each word dipped in venom, directed at the man on the other side of me.
“I’m not leaving her unless she tells me to.” The smugness on Grant’s face is going to earn him another punch. I shake my head. Testosterone duels wildly in the air. It was so obvious they were each trying to stake a claim on me, but there is only one man I belong to, and I don’t think he wants me any longer.
“I’m thirsty,” I say, trying to defuse the situation. I’m simply too exhausted for this bullshit and this is not the place. Gray happens to be on the side with the water pitcher and quickly pours me a glass, holding it out to me. His coolness toward me cuts deep. I take it and he avoids any brush of our fingers. Once again, I have to hold back the tears.
“How do you know him?” Gray asks, nodding to Grant as I’m taking a drink. His tone is clearly accusatory and now I’m finally piecing it all together. He came to my apartment last night and found me in bed with Grant.
Oh shit. I cannot get into this here, in a hospital room. Grant is a huge part of my story, and someone I care deeply about, but I was going to leave his name anonymous in my rendition of my horror story to Gray. And I certainly never intended for Gray and Grant to meet. “He’s a friend.”
“A friend? Jesus, Livvy, how many other friends do you let into your bed?”
Grant starts to round the bed. “You are out of line, brother. I’ve told you repeatedly that there is nothing sexual between Livia and I. This entire situation is on you, and you alone.” Grant waves in my direction. “Her face has been hanging over a toilet for an entire week because you do what you’ve always done. You avoid conflict. You shut out anyone who you think doesn’t live up to your precious high-horse standards. Why don’t you just be honest with yourself
for once in your fucking life?”
Wait a minute. Brother? Why are they talking like they know each other? Brother? “What’s going on here? Grant, do you know each other?”
They continue their conversation like I haven’t even spoken. “This situation lays squarely at Livvy’s feet, not mine. You have no idea what she did to me, or to us. Looks like it didn’t take her long to move on, though. Just like five years ago.”
I suck in a sharp breath at his wounding words and now I know. I know this is the end of us. Any hope I had been harboring deep inside me that he’d listen to me, understand and accept me for who I am just went flying out of the three-story hospital window.
As if he just heard what I said, Gray turns his head toward me. “Grant? Is that the name he’s going by these days?”
My eyes volley between the two, confused. Grant’s jaw is clamped shut and if looks could kill, Gray would be ten kinds of dead by now. I’ve only ever seen Grant that mad when I woke up from losing my baby, two days later. “I – I don’t understand what’s going on here,” I whisper.
Gray’s snicker is bitter and full of disdain. He holds Grant’s eyes and punctuates every word like he’s wielding a blowtorch, each one creating a fresh third-degree burn. “Classic. Well, Livia, Luke here, is my twin.”
“Your twin?” I breathe. “No. No. No. No.” I shake my head in utter disbelief. “You told me your twin was dead.” When we first started dating and I asked Gray about his family, he told me that his twin brother, Luke, had died and they never talked about him. It was too painful for the family. I brought it up to Gray once after that and he got upset, so I never did again. And neither did anyone else. He wouldn’t even show me a picture. It was as if Luke had never existed and I always found it more than odd. And sad.
“He’s dead to me.”
I felt so many things at that moment I couldn’t separate them all. Confusion, betrayal, pity. Why didn’t Gray tell me the truth about his brother? Did Grant—Luke, whatever—know about Gray this whole time? I look back on the first time I mentioned Gray’s name and the furious look that came over Grant’s face. He knew. And how could Gray have such hatred for his own flesh and blood that he’d simply disown him and tell people he’s dead? How could his entire family do that?
I look into Grant’s eyes because I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to calling him anything else, and I search for the truth. I see sorrow, regret and an apology, and I know that Gray isn’t lying. I turn my eyes to Gray and I see anger and loathing. For me or Grant, I’m not sure.
Before anyone else could speak, the door opens and a pretty, young-looking woman in a long, white coat and blue scrubs walks in. She carries a clip chart and has a blue stethoscope wrapped around her neck. The glasses she’s wearing make her look smart and trustworthy. “You’re awake. Good. How are you feeling, Livia?”
“Better.” I’ll say anything I need to in order to get released. But surprisingly, once I attune to my body, I realize that I mean it. I do feel better, at least physically. Emotionally, though, I’m worse than before.
Both Gray and Grant have moved to the foot of the bed, and Addy has joined them, smartly—or maybe not so smartly—standing between. I cringe at everything she’s overheard in the last five minutes.
The doctor walks to the right side of the bed, checks my vitals and then my heart and lungs with her cold little piece of equipment. “Everything sounds good.”
She turns to the two men I love most, but whom I don’t seem to know at all. “Gentlemen, miss, can we have a minute alone, please.”
Addy smiles and squeezes my foot, leaving silently. Gray and Grant both grumble, but walk to the door. Gray walks right out, but Grant looks back, his eyes begging for forgiveness. I look away. I need time to digest and think about what the hell just happened. I have so much hurt inside me, I don’t know what to do with it all.
“So your friends…” she pauses at the word, and I smile weakly. “…tell me that you’ve been unable to keep anything down for a week. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing? No water, no food?”
“Not much.”
“How many times a day have you been vomiting?”
“Several,” I answer. No reason to hide the truth.
“And how much weight have you lost?”
I sigh. “Five pounds, probably. Maybe more.”
In an unusual move, she sits on the edge my bed, facing me. I guess I don’t know what’s unusual for a doctor, but sitting one’s bed seems to fit that bill. She sets the chart down beside her and holds my gaze.
“Are you under any stress?”
I look down and will my moisture away. “Yes,” I reply quietly. So much, I don’t know what to do with it all.
“And I take it those two have something to do with that.”
My laughter is weak. “It’s complicated.” That’s the understatement of the century.
She nods and smiles sympathetically. “It usually is.”
“So what’s wrong with me? Some sort of flu bug?”
“Well, you have what’s called hyperemesis gravidarum, which causes severe, frequent vomiting and can last for a specified period of time, although it varies with each individual.”
Hypergrav, what? That sounds very bad. “How long does it last? Can you give me something to make it go away? Like medicine? I can hardly even function, doctor.”
Smiling, like she has a secret, I’m afraid to hear what’s going to come out of her mouth next. “I’m afraid it can last up to nine months, although most of the time it starts to dissipate significantly after the first trimester. And there are some reasons you could be experiencing such a severe case. Heredity, multiples, a history of motion sickness…” She keeps talking, but I can’t hear any more words. I stopped listening after she said first trimester. First trimester? No…
“Livia? Are you listening to me?” The pretty doctor is now shaking my shoulder.
“Umm, I think you need to back up. Are you trying to tell me I’m pregnant?” I’m about to hyperventilate. There is absolutely no way I can be pregnant.
“There’s no doubt. Your blood tests confirm you’re pregnant. And I’m afraid you have severe morning sickness, Livia. It’s not uncommon, unfortunately. It’s inconvenient, and in your case, severe enough we needed to get you rehydrated with fluids. I’ve given you some vitamin B6, which generally helps with the worst of the nausea. There are also some herbal remedies you can try, like ginger, which can sometimes help. Maybe even some acupressure cuffs on your wrists. You should take vitamin B6 every day, and I’ll leave you with a list of other things to avoid that can cause the nausea to flare, but mostly, I’m afraid, you’ll just have to give it time.”
I’m shaking my head furiously. “I need you to stop. I cannot be pregnant. I can’t get pregnant.” Each word I speak sounds shriller.
She sighs, like she’s frustrated she has to go over this again, but I can’t help it. She has to be wrong. “And why do you think you can’t get pregnant? You’re a young, healthy woman.”
Yes, who had her family’s future ripped away from her when she was a mere twenty-three years old. I begin to cry, sobbing uncontrollably into my hands. I feel the bed dip and her small arms come around me, trying to comfort. “Livia, there are other options.”
I shake my head because that’s not the problem. Something I never thought was possible has happened.
I’m going to be a mother.
I couldn’t be happier and more distraught at the same time. I have a life growing inside of me that Gray and I created together, and now he can’t even stand the sight of me and thinks I’m sleeping with his brother.
Oh God.
I have absolutely no idea how he’ll feel about this baby. What I don’t want is pity. I don’t want for him to stay with me simply out of loyalty to this child. The man I thought I knew would do that. I guess with my new discovery about his undead brother, I’m not even sure of that anymore. I’m unsure
of a lot of things. What I’m not unsure of, however, is how much I love Gray Colloway, and how much I already love this little life growing inside of me.
Twenty minutes later, my mind spinning with our conversation and my news, Dr. Culross walks out the door, leaving me alone in the deafening silence. She said I could be discharged after this next batch of fluids is gone, which will be in about three hours. Three hours that I need to think. I asked her to tell Gray and Grant that I was tired and needed some undisturbed rest.
I need time to figure out what I’m going to do next.
Chapter 45
Luke and I have hardly spoken a word that hasn’t been hateful and hurtful since he opened his eyes and saw me standing in the doorway of Livvy’s bedroom. A flash of guilt left as quickly as it came, and it took everything in me not to rip him apart that very second. The only thing that stopped me was how tranquil Livvy looked.
Even in sleep and the low light, I could tell she wasn’t well. She had bags under her eyes and her skin looked pale and sickly and a pang of guilt hit me so hard, it nearly buckled my knees.
I had done this to her. I had left her all alone, without explanation, without discussion, over fifty words from some asshole who was probably trying to get back at me for blackmailing him. And it was like a sucker punch to the gut when Luke called me out on it in front of Livvy, because he was right. This laid squarely at my feet, not hers.
I said some cruel things to her, things I couldn’t take back. Things I wasn’t even sure I meant. I don’t know if they’re sleeping together, but I know love when I see it. And Luke is clearly in love with Livvy. I could see it in the gentle way he held her in her bed, and the way he’s watched her lying helpless in that hospital bed. And it makes me seethe with rage and jealousy and murderous thoughts.
