by Kreig, K. L.
I walk back to my desk and calmly take a seat. What I really want to do is lay my brother out flat on the ground. “Do you mind telling me what I did to deserve that? I think I’m the one that should be throwing the punches. You are fucking my girl, after all.”
He shakes his head, taking a seat. “I’ve told you repeatedly I’m not fucking Livia. We are friends. That’s it.” I watch his eyes closely as he speaks. I remember when we were kids and Luke lied, his left eye would always tick slightly. It didn’t take long for my parents to catch on and Luke was always the go-to kid when they wanted to get the truth.
No tick.
“But you want to.” That much, I know. And I want to strangle him for thinking that way about her.
“You’re one to talk, Gray, given the fact that just last night you were fucking some whore in your apartment.” Luke’s jaw clenches.
My brows draw together in confusion. Lena? How the fuck does he know about Lena? “Then you have been misinformed.”
“Really?” he smirked. “So you’re telling me the blonde in your apartment, wearing nothing but your shirt, was what? A maid? A co-worker dropping off some work papers? A neighbor stopping by for an egg or a cup of sugar, perhaps?”
“How do you know about that?” Now I’m getting fucking pissed. I have no idea what Luke is into these days, but if I find out he’s following me we will have some serious problems.
“Why don’t you ask Livia?”
“Livia?” I whisper. “Why would I ask Livia?” That sick feeling that’s been my constant companion for the past couple of weeks is knocking violently deep within the walls of my gut. I know exactly what he’s about to tell me and I feel positively ill.
“Because your whore answered the door last night at about nine thirty when she came to talk to you, since you’ve been too much of a pussy to nut it up and chase after the woman you claim to love.”
I think back to when I saw them leave Livvy’s last night. Had I not sat there, drowning in my own pathetic pool of sorrow, none of this would have happened. Maybe Livvy would be back in my arms this very moment. A string of expletives rolls low and rough off my tongue. My brother watches me closely, gauging my reaction to his little bomb. “It’s not what it looked like.” My excuse sounds lame and unbelievable, even to my own ears.
A ghost of a smile crosses Luke’s lips. “Riiiight.”
I don’t deem his comment worthy of a response. The only person’s opinion I care about is Livvy’s, and I need to make sure she knows what she saw wasn’t at all what it looked like. And maybe neither was what you saw between Livvy and Luke. I let my head fall back against my chair and gaze up at the ceiling. This whole situation is one big clusterfuck. Luke is right and I hate it. I do need to man up.
“Why are you here,” I ask tiredly. All of a sudden I’m exhausted. Constantly carrying anger and hurt takes a huge emotional and physical toll on the human psyche. I’ve been carrying them both for over five years and I’m tired. I want Livvy in my life, but I realize I don’t know if that’s really possible anymore. All that water under the bridge seems to have risen to flood level stages and threatens to spill over its banks, washing the entire bridge away with its enormous power.
Luke stands and paces, running his hands through his shaggy hair. “I really don’t know why, Gray. I may not be worthy of Livia, but you sure as fuck don’t deserve her either with the way you’ve treated her these past few days.”
“I—”
He continues, talking over me. “But for some fucking reason, she is blindly in love with you and has been since the day I met her. The Gray I used to know wouldn’t take a paltry paragraph of loosely thrown together facts at face value without digging and picking and pulling apart each word until he had the whole fucking story.”
“She married another man after she’d agreed to marry me!” I roar. “What other story do I need?”
Luke stops, staring me down, his blazing eyes mirroring mine. “The real one.”
Then I realize that he was referencing the report that Townley had given me. “And how do you know about the report?”
“Probably bad form to have your PI bills sent to your work email when your girlfriend has access to them. Livia’s pretty good at putting two and two together.”
“Fuck.” Then I realize that Townley only sent the bill to my work email, not the report. “That still doesn’t explain how you know about the report. Or what’s in it,” I accuse.
His smirk grates on me. “I have my sources.”
We’re silent for several tense minutes. “What happened to her, Luke?” My quiet voice drifts over the desk and hangs in the air like poisonous mist, ready to sear my skin with its deadly toxin.
“I’ve told you. That’s Livia’s story to tell and only hers. But I can assure you, whatever you’re thinking, you are dead wrong.” His words ring with such conviction, it scares me.
Standing, I walk to the window and look out into a city teeming with life. I inanely wonder what types of problems the people walking the sidewalks of Chicago below me are dealing with in their own lives and if they’re half as fucked up or complex as mine. “I don’t know if it matters anymore. I don’t know if we can get past this.”
Snorting, he bites, “If you really think that, then you’re even more of a self-absorbed, self-righteous prick than I thought you were.” I hear something whisper across my desk and turn to see an envelope that Luke’s thrown down, my name scrawled across the front. I raise my eyes to lock with his. “And if you really think that, then you don’t deserve answers. You deserve to be kept in the dark for the rest of your sad, lonely life. You don’t deserve her.”
I face him, my arms crossed protectively, like I’m trying to shield my heart from the cuts each truthful word inflicts. “You never told me why you’re here.”
His mouth turns up in a sad smile. “I’m doing it for Livia. I would do anything for her.” Then he turns and leaves much differently than the way he arrived, closing the door softly behind him. His last sentence lingers in the air, the unspoken challenge heard loud and clear.
My twin may be in love with Livvy, of that I have no doubt, but he’s trying to push us back together, instead of tear us apart. And right now, tearing us apart would be so very easy to do. We both believed hurtful lies that aren’t true. As insanely jealous as I am of Luke, I also have to respect him for his selflessness. I rub my split lip absently, another injury to add to my marred face, just starting to heal from Saturday’s altercation.
Just then, an odd thought pops into my head and I remember the story our mom used to tell us when we were younger about how they named us. Luke was always to be named Luke, but my parents had a different name picked out for me. When I was born, they said the name didn’t fit, so I became Gray instead.
I look at the closed door my twin just walked through. The original name they’d picked out for me was Grant.
Chapter 50
“Did you see him?” I ask anxiously when he walks through the door.
“Yes.” He walks to the refrigerator and takes out a beer.
“And?”
Luke leans against the island and tips the brew to his lips, taking a long gulp. “And I did as you asked.” His eyes wouldn’t meet mine.
“Thank you,” I reply quietly. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard for you.” I’ve unfairly put Luke into the middle of this shit storm with Gray and me, even though I knew what it would do to him. He wants me for himself, but he loves me enough to take my confession to the man I’m in love with. His twin brother. A brother who tells people he’s dead. God, I hate myself more with each passing day. I seem to have one thing down to a science. Hurting the people I love.
He downs his bottle in one more giant gulp before setting it down hard on the counter. He pulls me to him, burying his head in my hair, holding me close like he’s trying to crawl inside. The gesture is tender and filled with love and heartbreak. We stand silently there for long minutes, arms wrapped around
each other.
I have this near overwhelming urge to kiss him because I know a goodbye when I feel one. I’m breaking inside. I need him, even though I know it’s wrong to lean on him so much when he’s hurting just like me. Because of me. Then he kisses my temple, warm lips lingering, before he leaves me and walks back to the front door.
“Yeah, it was hard,” he says almost inaudibly right before he walks out, leaving me standing there alone.
A single tear streaks down my face. I’ve lost so much. I don’t know how much more loss I can take. I place a protective hand over my belly, where the baby that Gray and I created grows and I pray that, for once, God will be on my side and let me have something good in my life.
Chapter 51
I stare at the thin envelope my brother left on my desk like it’s full of razor sharp thorns that will bleed me dry if I prick myself. My hands tremble as I slit open the sealed flap and take out the three pages inside. I’m nauseous, the sandwich I ate for lunch churning madly in my stomach.
These are my answers. I knew I was about to learn something that I no longer really wanted to know but had no other choice. There are times when burying your head in the sand simply isn’t a viable option any longer. I guess that’s where I am.
I look at down at Livvy’s handwritten letter. For minutes I just stare at the salutation, afraid to go any further. Then I start to read. Several times throughout the letter, I have to set it aside because it’s simply too agonizing to continue and my tears blur the words. It takes me nearly half an hour to get through it.
My Dearest Gray ~
I know I’m taking the coward’s way out by writing you a letter instead of telling you this in person, but I can’t stand to see the shame and hurt, and even possibly disgust you’ll have for me after I tell you everything. I only hope that someday you’ll be able to understand, and possibly even forgive me for my actions and the suffering they’ve clearly caused you.
Please believe me when I tell you, if I could have done things differently, if there were any other path than the one I chose, I would have taken it. I would have done almost anything to be with you and share the life I’d already envisioned us having together. And you’ll see, once my story is finished, therein lies the problem. That one little word, almost, is what changed everything for me. For us.
Mine starts out as a true love story. A fairytale. The one that romance writers will try to emulate. But it’s not possible, for there is no greater love story.
The fairytale starts when a young, naïve, working girl meets a cocky, confident, persistent, beautiful boy. The second she laid eyes on him, he took her breath away and she knew he was The One. He was fierce and loyal, intense and loving. He would sweep her off her feet and become the love of her life. He was her future husband and father of her children. He stole her heart and imprisoned it deep within him, so it would become forever his. In her entire lifetime, there would never be another that could have it because it was no longer hers to give. He was her soul mate. Her life. Her very breath. Her reason for living.
Her everything.
He was you. He is you.
But every story has a villain, and this one is no different. My fairytale quickly morphed into a horror story. I know this will be difficult for you to read, Gray, and for that, I apologize. I can assure you, however, not more difficult than it is for me to know you’ll be reading it.
The morning after your proposal, I got an urgent phone call from my father. He was crying and sounded scared. I thought Alyse was in trouble again, so I left you a note and rushed home. It turns out Alyse was in trouble, just not in the way I’d thought. You know my father was a gambling addict and apparently he owed some very bad men a lot of money. Money he didn’t have, so their payment came in the form of a young, innocent eighteen-year-old girl who had already suffered so much. A girl who wouldn’t have survived a day, let alone three years, with a monster.
You understand why I couldn’t let that happen.
Fifteen minutes after I arrived home I was taken away and the next day, I was forced to marry a fifty-five-year-old monster and mobster named Peter Wilder. They didn’t know about you, Gray. And I couldn’t let them. I would not endanger your life, or Alyse’s. If I’d tried to warn either of you in any way, you’d have stopped at nothing to find me and I have no doubt Peter would have taken great pleasure killing you just to spite me. So I followed every instruction to the letter and prayed I’d find a way out. That I’d find my way back to you before it was too late. It turns out my way out wasn’t until three years later, but it was far too late by then.
It wasn’t a marriage of love or convenience or even hate. It was a sacrifice that needed to be made in order to change my sister’s fate. And I was the only one that could make it. Alyse has no idea, and it must stay that way.
Please don’t ask me to detail all of the horrible things I endured during that time. It was traumatic, it was horrific and whatever you’re imagining, it was probably worse. Peter Wilder was not a nice or decent man. He didn’t buy me jewels or take me on extravagant vacations. He didn’t love me. He barely tolerated me. But I’m here. I survived, and that’s all that matters. Peter is dead and I’m free. I’ve had extensive counseling and, although I still have my days, for the most part, I’m better. Only my love and memories of you got me through those dark days and I’m so grateful that I have new ones we’ve created these past few blissful weeks. You will never understand how much that means to me.
You need to know that Luke saved my life. Luke worked for Peter, that’s how we met. And although I don’t know his story, I knew he didn’t want to be there. He didn’t belong with them. He was kind-hearted and soft and he had what none of the rest of them did. A conscience. If it wasn’t for Luke, I’d be dead. He cared for me the many times I was beaten and when Peter died of a stroke a little more than two years ago, he single-handedly got me out of hell and into a new life. He set me up in Chicago, gave me money and found me a place to live. I haven’t seen or heard from him since then until just a couple of weeks ago. I think perhaps the man you thought you knew isn’t the same man anymore. You should give him a chance. Get to know him again. I actually think you’d like him and would be able to see the good in him that I do.
I’m not going to lie to you. I love Luke. We have a bond and a friendship that’s unique and he was there for me when I had no one else. I won’t give that up. I won’t give him up. Not even for you. But I’m not in love with Luke. I’m in love with you, and I have been every day for the past eight years. I think it’s true what they say that we don’t get to choose who we fall in love with. We just fall and hope for the best, no matter how the story ends. I will never regret us. I will never regret our love because regretting it means I wish it never happened and, for so many reasons, I could never do that.
You can probably now understand why I didn’t tell you all of this before, even though you had every right to know. I warred with myself every day for the past two years on whether I should find you, but…I was scared. I wasn’t the same woman you fell in love with and I didn’t know if you could love this new version of me. The tainted version. I thought too much time had passed. I thought you’d hate me. I thought you’d be with someone else and I couldn’t bear to see that. I thought a lot of things. None of them good.
And when fate placed us in each other’s paths once again, even though you deserved it, I just couldn’t make myself say the words. I was selfish. Truth be told, I didn’t want you to look at me differently. I didn’t want to lose you again. I couldn’t understand how you could still want me, how you could possibly forgive me after everything that I had done to you and I didn’t want anything to shatter the fragile relationship we were trying to rebuild. But a relationship can’t thrive on lies or half-truths or secrets. I wasn’t the only victim in this story. I know you were left confused and angry and hurt and you deserve closure, even if it’s hard to hear and hard for me to say. I was wrong to keep this from you for so lon
g and I’m so very sorry.
I understand if this is too much for you to handle. Truly I do. It’s a lot for anyone to wrap their head around. I think maybe these answers have come too late for us and I’ll never forgive myself for ruining what we had yet a second time. Even though I stayed away, please believe that I’ve ached to be with you every single day. These past few weeks I’ve felt more alive than I have since the last day I saw your beautiful face.
I want you to know that, while it will hurt, I’ll be okay without you. I understand if we can’t be together and if this secret I’ve kept has damaged us beyond repair. I have nothing but love in my heart for you, and I always will. You’re it for me. You’ll always have my heart under lock and key, unavailable for any other man.
I pray this gives you the answers you’ve been seeking and provides you the closure you need. I hope someday you can find it within yourself to forgive me, move on with your life and be truly happy. You deserve that and so much more, Gray.
Forever yours,
Livvy
When I’ve finished reading the last sentence, I let myself finally break down.
I cry for Livvy.
I cry for me.
I cry for all that we’ve lost because of a sick, addicted old man. A man I would kill if he weren’t already dead.
I cry for the unknown pain and suffering that she went through while I was simply stuck spinning my wheels in bitterness and anger.
I cry for the sacrifice she made for her sister. For me.