by J. M. Paul
I don’t even want to think about what bookies do to people who owe money and don’t have the funds to pay it back.
“Why didn’t you ask Mom and Dad for help? Or me?” I was making money in high school with a few articles I had written for local newspapers.
He flashes me a face.
“Right.” I nod. Who wants to admit to their parents or siblings that they messed up royally?
“Anyway, I started helping”—he says the word as if it’s dirty—“the group to work off my debts. And, as everything of that nature usually does, it snowballed into a messy pile of shit I couldn’t extract myself from.”
“I wish you had told me, Nicholas.”
He runs his hand through his hair. “I couldn’t involve you in that fucked up mess, Jelly. They’re not good people, and they have no regard for what’s right or wrong.”
I lean forward. “But I could’ve tried to help you.”
He scoffs. “Believe me when I tell you that you couldn’t have helped with what they had me doing.”
Darkness moves over his features that I’ve never seen him wear before. My chest tightens at the thought of what he isn’t telling me.
“Not long after graduation, the FBI approached me.” His attention swings around the space again, cataloging people and seeing if they’re listening. “They knew I was newly involved with the group and trapped. They offered me a way out.”
He shrugs like it isn’t a big deal, but nothing comes for free.
I sip my coffee and wait for him to continue.
“The G-Men wanted me to further infiltrate the group—to learn the inner workings and become an informant for them. If I did, they promised to protect me and forgive my infractions.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “I jumped at the deal and did as they’d asked, and the agents kept their word about looking the other way on my misdemeanors.”
“Wow.” I can’t process everything he said—and everything he hasn’t said. Not when it’s connected to my brother, to my other half, to the innocent boy and person I grew up with.
“Yeah.” He downs the rest of his bagel and coffee.
I push my half-eaten bagel toward him. He grins knowingly and devours it in two bites. It’s nice to see at least his appetite hasn’t changed.
“So …” I stall, trying to figure out what I want to ask. “How are you able to contact me now? When I saw you in Detroit on Thanksgiving Day, you rejected me.”
“I was still involved with the group.” He says this like it’s nothing big, like he didn’t rip out my heart and stomp on it that day in the parking lot.
“And, now, you aren’t? That was only a couple of weeks ago, Bean.”
“There’ve been several developments in the case since then. Thanks to my help, the agents were able to crack the ring, and my job’s done.” There’s another shrug, as if this isn’t a huge freaking deal. “For now.”
“For now?” My eyebrows spring upward.
A glowing smile pushes up his cheeks, and his brown eyes glitter with a happiness I haven’t seen since he sat down. It’s like witnessing a version of my brother I used to know and love.
“The guys were impressed with the work I did for them, and they’ve asked me to join their team permanently.” He rolls his eyes. “After they send me through proper training, of course.”
“You’re going to work for the …” I blink several times. “The FBI?”
What universe do I live in?
“That’s right, little sis. You’re looking at the newest FBI agent.” He brushes his shoulders like he’s the shit. And maybe he is, but I won’t play into his ego.
“I’m five minutes younger than you,” I grumble at his little sis comment.
“That means I’m five minutes wiser.” He winks, and it feels just like old times.
I finish my lukewarm coffee as we watch the heavier snowfall outside. A mother and her young daughter walk by the windows, the girl trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue.
Ah, the innocence of youth.
“So, do you forgive me?” Nicholas breaks the silence.
“Hell no,” I answer without looking at him.
“Come on, Noel. I’ve explained myself and why I couldn’t tell you. I’ve said sorry a million times.”
“You’ve said it three times”—I glare at him—“but I understand you’re embellishing for dramatic effect.”
He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth curling up.
“So, why did you need the money from the bets in the first place?”
Mom and Dad worked hard to make sure we had everything we needed. I can’t remember a time we went without something that was necessary.
Nicholas releases a heavy breath. “I heard Mom and Dad talking in their room one night. They were discussing money and how expensive colleges were. They were already financially burdened by Eve’s education and didn’t know how they’d pay for all three of us the next year.” He rubs at the stubble on his jaw.
“I started brainstorming on how to pull in extra funds to help out. A loud-mouthed guy in my advanced math class was bragging about some sizable cash flow he was making. I asked questions, and …” He shrugs off the rest.
“But I had a full ride for creative writing at Oakland University. They didn’t have to worry about my tuition.” My brows crush together.
“You know how Mom and Dad were.” He tugs on his ear. “They always worried over us kids and overanalyzed everything.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly and nod, “they did.”
We’re silent for a few minutes, both of us probably taking a short trip down memory lane.
My phone buzzes several times in a row in my pocket, and I have no doubt who’s trying to contact me. I pull it out and smile at the messages.
Connor: I’m starting to develop a complex because my girlfriend won’t text me back. ;)
Connor: I got great news about your present last night! I’m pretty stoked, and I should *hopefully* have it tonight or tomorrow at the latest. I’m not sure I can keep it to myself until Christmas. :) :)
Connor: You can kiss me—or do other things if you’d like—tonight and tell me what a wonderful boyfriend I am. ;)
“What has you smiling like an idiot?” Nicholas asks.
I raise one finger to indicate I need a second.
Me: I was getting my beauty sleep. Leave a girl alone. ;)
Me: I promise to make it up to you later. x
Connor: Oh … kinky. I look forward to it, Journal Girl. Oh, how I look forward to it. xx
“I’ll rephrase. Who has you smiling like an idiot?”
“My … boyfriend.” I shove the cell back into my jeans and bounce my attention around the room, so I don’t have to address Nicholas or his obnoxious face.
Without my permission, my gaze eventually falls on his glittering expression.
“Boyfriend?” Nicholas’s forehead wrinkles. “That’s a new development.”
“Mmhmm.” It’s a noncommittal noise, indicating I don’t want to talk about it.
This douche nugget just stepped back into my life and doesn’t deserve answers from me. He needs to keep talking. Grudges aren’t my thing, but I don’t forgive and forget that easily—especially considering the depth he hurt me.
Nicholas’s white teeth flash, and there’s a knowing look in his eyes.
“What?” I bark.
“Nothing.” He lifts his hands in an innocent gesture.
“Then, what’s that look for?” I wave my finger in circles around his head.
“What look?” Nicholas playfully swipes his hand over his face and gives me a mock stone expression. The edges of his mouth start to curl, and he bites his lip, but a small chuckle escapes.
I wad up a napkin and throw it at him. “I hate you.”
“I got the memo.” He winks and then grows serious. “I really did miss you, Jelly.”
“I might have missed you a little, too, Bean.” I reach across the table and
playfully punch his shoulder. “But I’m still pissed at you.”
“I know.” He sobers.
“So, you’re okay? You were okay while you were … undercover?” I question.
Nicholas takes my hand in his. “I’m okay. It wasn’t the greatest time of my life, but it’s over. I learned my lesson, and I think I ended up falling into a pretty sweet opportunity, joining the FBI.”
“When do you start training with the … G-Men?” The last word comes out unsure because I can’t remember if that’s what he called the agents.
“G-Men, yeah. It’s short for Government Men. It dates back to gangster George ‘Machine Gun’ Kelly or something badass like that.” Nicholas shrugs.
“When do you start training?” I ask again.
“I already have, but the heavy stuff doesn’t start until after the holidays.” He smiles at a girl with ice-blue hair as she walks by.
My ears perk at his response. “So, does that mean you’ll be around for Christmas?”
His attention diverts back to me, and he nods. “Yeah, I should be.”
A grin as wide as the Mississippi River splits my face. “It’ll be nice to have family around for the holidays.”
Dealing with the anniversary of our car accident and our parents’ deaths was horrible, but to do it alone—without any family, except Cami around—was almost as devastating as going through the ordeal all over again.
A frown mars Nicholas’s features. “What about Eve?”
“What about Eve?” I repeat his question.
“Didn’t you spend Christmas together last year?” He adjusts his position on the hard chair.
“Uh, no.” I give him a well, duh expression.
“Why not?”
“Are you being facetious? Eve hates my guts.”
“She’s still not over that shit?” He tilts his head.
And by that shit, he means me pulling the plug on our parents, as if it’s no big deal. Like it was as easy as flipping a page in a book.
Dickhead.
“Not by a long shot.” I twist my hands together on the table.
“She never was one to easily forgive and forget. That was more your gig.” He flashes a pleadingly innocent smile.
I give him a death glare. “Forgive and forget? Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, Bean. I’m neither Jesus nor do I have Alzheimer’s.”
Total bullshit.
He’s my twin. There’s no way I can stay angry with him for an extended period of time. It’s genetically impossible for me.
He chuckles and then sobers. “Eve’s in the wrong, Noel. What Mom and Dad asked you to do for them, the responsibility they left in your hands”—he shakes his head—“there’s a reason they picked you and not me or Eve.”
I scoff. “What does that say about me, Nicholas? That they knew I’d be able to end their lives?” My brows draw together, and I fight the urge to break down in the middle of this coffee shop.
“That you’re strong and courageous, and you have such a big heart that you’ll do what’s right, even when everything in you wants to go against it.” He grabs my hand and cradles it in both of his. “You were in that car accident, too. You suffered in more ways than I could ever imagine, yet you found the strength to do what was right even though it gutted you when you were already shattered.”
Lacing our fingers together, he continues, “However Eve chose to act from that moment forward has nothing to do with you. She’s always been selfish and irrational and, quite honestly”—his eyes widen—“a bitch.”
I laugh and pull my hand from his to lightly slap his forearm.
“You laugh because it’s true.” He smiles unapologetically.
It’s awful to say, but Nicholas is right. Evelyn always kept to herself and never engaged with us unless she had to. I wasn’t sure if she didn’t like Nicholas and me or if she felt out of place since we were closely bonded twins. We never once made her feel like an outsider—at least, not on purpose.
Nicholas and I sit in silence for a while, watching people mill in and out of the coffee shop, the heavier snow falling outside not deterring the hearty Michiganders and their Christmas shopping.
“Does the fact that we’re orphans ever bother you?” I peel my eyes away from the wintery landscape to find him studying me.
His eyes divert to the table, and he shuffles his coffee mug back and forth between his fists. “I’ve been an orphan longer than you, so I guess I’ve grown used to it.” It’s unfiltered honesty.
“You were never an orphan, Bean, not while they were still alive. You might have stepped away from us physically, but you were always with us.” I place my hand over my heart and tap my chest twice. “We were always connected, and they loved you more with every second that passed.”
“I wish I could’ve explained why I disappeared, that it had nothing to do with them or any of you.” His dark eyes hold mine. “I couldn’t guarantee your safety. I wasn’t sure what the group would do if they found out I was an informant, so I had to extract myself from everyone and everything I loved.”
“Mom and Dad were devastated, but they would’ve understood.”
“You don’t know that.” He shakes his head.
“I do know that,” I say firmly. “You hurt me, too, beyond anything I could’ve imagined, but here I am, forgiving you against my better judgment.”
“Your judgment has always been shit.” He cracks a smile.
“And it still is.” I arch a speculative brow, happy that the exchange between us has turned lighter.
“Speaking of your crap judgment”—he leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest—“tell me more about this boyfriend.”
Uh-oh, here comes the big brother knows best grilling.
“What do you want to know?” I ask carefully.
“What’s he like? How does he treat you? How long have you been together?” His forehead wrinkles.
I can’t help the dreamy expression that I know overtakes my features. “We’ve been together for only a couple of weeks, but he’s … wonderful and funny, and to risk sounding like a pathetic girl”—I sigh—“he’s everything.”
“You must really like him.”
“I do.” I lean forward and rest my chin on my hand.
“I want to meet him.”
“You do?”
“I do. Dad’s not around to question him, so it’s my duty to make sure he’s treating my little sister right.”
I grumble at his little sister comment.
He laughs and then pushes himself away from the table to stand. “Come on. I’m starving. Let’s grab a bite at On the Border, and then you can take me to meet this questionable knight in shining armor.”
My heart warms at his request of On the Border. It’s our favorite Mexican restaurant, and I haven’t been able to eat there since he left.
“I never said he was a knight in shining armor.” I rise to my feet.
“No, but your face did.”
He tugs my ear, and I shove his arm away.
“You’ll love Connor.” I trail Nicholas out the door. “He’s a really great guy.”
“That remains to be seen.” He zips his coat and starts trudging through the snow.
Season of Life
“There she is,” Connor exclaims when I make my way up to the bar at Harry’s.
There’s one stool open, and I plant my rear on it and claim it as mine.
“This place is packed.” I swivel my head around and take in the mass amount of bodies draped at tables, perched on stools, or hovering around the bar.
Connor leans over the granite separating us, waiting for a kiss, and I oblige. When I try to pull away, he slinks his hand behind my neck and pulls me back into his lips until he’s satisfied.
“It’s the last Saturday before Christmas. People are either blowing off steam from shopping all day or drowning their sorrows before they have to spend an extended amount of time with family.”
�
��Fun times,” I say.
“The holidays are always fun times.”
This conversation reminds me of the first time we met when he explained his excitement over Thanksgiving and the prospect of spending time with his extended family.
A throat clears loudly behind me, and I stiffen. Connor’s eyes drift over my head, then back to me, and then over my head again to the person standing behind me.
“Uh, Journal Girl?” Connor doesn’t wait for me to respond. “I’m either seeing double or I’ve had too much to drink, and since I’m on the clock, I know it’s not the latter.”
Nicholas’s arm snakes around me to hold out his hand to Connor. Connor takes it, and the two men shake vigorously.
“Nicholas,” my brother says in a stern voice.
“Nicholas?” Connor questions me. He obviously recognizes the name from when Nicholas called me yesterday morning.
I nod.
“Connor,” my boyfriend says in an equally deep voice.
“Well,” I say, my tone a little too high-pitched, “now that you know each other’s names, Connor, this is my twin brother. Nicholas, this is my boyfriend.” I point back and forth between them. “Play nice together.”
“Twin brother?” Connor’s gaze finds mine. “I thought your only sibling was Eve.”
“Um, no.” I shake my head, and Nicholas’s hand rests on my shoulder. I’m sure he understands it was too difficult for me to talk about him.
Connor keeps his attention on mine for several beats until it lifts up to Nicholas. “It’s great to meet you, man. I wish I could say I’ve heard great things, but I haven’t heard anything.”
The pitch of Connor’s words tells me we will have a detailed conversation about this later.
“I just found out about you as well, so ditto.” Nicholas slides into the open seat next to me after an older woman stands to leave.
Nicholas’s attention flits around the bar, taking in the atmosphere. Connor watches me, and I pretend that this situation isn’t awkward as hell.
“So, you’re twins.” Connor runs his hand through his dark hair.
My eyes zero in on his thick bicep and how I wish my tongue were running up the velvety skin and savoring the taste of him.