“You’re probably right. But I don’t know where to start.”

He sat quietly for a few long moments, thinking. Finally he said, “I think we start at the point that joins us.”

“What point is that? Do you mean when we met?”

“Even before that. We have to go back to the things that connect us, I think. The things we have in common that we don’t like to talk to anyone else about.”

There was a short pause. “Oh,” she said quietly.

“I’ll start. Okay?” He didn’t want to do this. But it was for her. For them.

“Yes, please.”

He took a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. But they were too jumbled, so he decided to simply begin.

Like pulling off a Band-Aid. Just do it.

Only for her. Only for Summer Grace would he be willing to open up the old wounds that never went away.

She wasn’t the only one who would feel pain tonight.

CHAPTER

Five

“SO,” HE STARTED, “you know I came to this country just before my eighth birthday. My family was . . . Well, they were never the same after Ian died. Neither was I. Maybe especially me. Seven is too damn young to experience that kind of loss, and the fact that I . . .” He trailed off, his fingers flexing on her waist as a hard buzzing began inside his head. “Look, I’ve never told you—fuck, I’ve never spoken about this to anyone. Not anyone. But I saw him die, you know. And all that shit they say about twins, it’s true. I was playing in the yard while Ian was climbing that tree, and I swear to all the gods I felt him falling even before I heard him scream. And then he was just limp on the ground and there was . . . Well, it was messy, as you can imagine. And Jesus, I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t be saying all of this right after you’ve been played. What am I thinking? Fuck.”

She raised her head and laid a soft hand on his cheek. “You’re just telling me the truth. All of it. For the first time, Jamie. It’s important. I didn’t want to talk, but you were right. We need this. And if we don’t do it now, while I’m still open enough, then I don’t know when I can. You were right about that, too. Maybe that’s part of why I need to submit—because apparently it’s the only way I can open myself up to anyone, other than Dennie, and maybe only to a certain extent even with her. And forgive me for saying so, but maybe it’s the only way you can, too. Would you be doing this under any other circumstances?”

He looked up to find her blue eyes on him, real concern there. Real understanding. Of course she’d understand. Which made telling this old story—the one he always tried to think of as ancient history—a little easier to tell.

“With anyone else? No. And over a beer or dinner? No.”

“Then tell me now.”

He nodded and she laid her head back on his shoulder, guessing that maybe it would be easier for him if she wasn’t looking at him.

“Well. My parents, they had a hard time after losing Ian. My brother Allister did, too, but he’d always been the toughest one of us, maybe because he was the oldest. But my mum and dad, they couldn’t stand to be in the house where Ian had died. Neither could I. I never went out into the garden again after that. It was less than a year later that we came to the U.S. But no matter where you go, your memories follow and none of us was ever able to forget him. To forget that our family was broken. My parents just sort of disappeared. They’ve never come back. It was almost a relief when they moved to England a few years ago, and I feel like an absolute shit for saying so. But they just keep running. And Allister was a lot older and pretty independent, but that only left me more alone. Not to sound pathetic, but I felt fucking orphaned, if you want to know the truth.”

She shifted in his lap and took his face in her small, warm hands. There were tears in her blue eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jamie. So sorry. It was exactly the same with me. It was as if I ceased to exist when Brandon died. Like he was their only child and I didn’t count anymore. They just retreated into themselves. And then there was the divorce, and they were both farther away from me than ever. I’ve only seen my dad maybe four times a year since then. It was like he couldn’t stand to look at my mom or me anymore. My family was gone, and I’ve never quite been able to understand exactly how it happened. How can you ever understand something like that? If it weren’t for Dennie and her grandmother I would have been totally alone.”

“That’s why I spent so much time with your family once Brandon and I met each other. Why I went on every camping trip with you guys, ate dinner at your house every week, spent Christmas Eve over there. I imagine your family got pretty sick of me, but they never turned me away.”

But in their grief they’d turned away from Summer Grace. He knew what that felt like. Too well. And damn it, he should have been there for her. His stomach clenched. He’d do better now. It already felt like an oath.

“I was never sick of you, Jamie,” she said quietly.

He took one of her hands and kissed her soft palm. “Not until last year, anyway.”

One corner of her lush, lovely mouth lifted. “This is the second time you’ve said that. I thought you understood.”

“I did. I do. But I didn’t say I liked it. I didn’t say there wasn’t a bit of stomping and brooding because you’d given up on me. But I deserved it.”

She shrugged. “You did—I can’t argue with that. But it wasn’t an easy decision. I think in a way you were the only thing that held me together for a long time. You have to have something to hang on to, you know, Jamie?”

“Fuck, Summer Grace. And I let you down. I was supposed to look after you—”

“And you did. You were so there for me right after he died. It was you at the hospital letting me cry all over you, letting my mom do the same. And my father, that first night out in the hall. I couldn’t let either of you know I was there, but I’ll never forget that. I saw his tears. I saw you pat him on the shoulder, which was the only comfort he ever allowed, I think. From anyone. And then when I was in high school you chased off all the bad boys I would have dated—oh yes, don’t think I didn’t know the whole time it was you. But that only made you seem more like a hero to me. And then . . .” She paused, sniffed. “You used the Rae name when you branded your shop, which has always felt like it was as much for me as it was to honor Brandon’s memory, and I don’t care if I’m wrong about that. It’s comforted me. But I’ve come to understand things, Jamie. We were both grieving. We were surviving. If I’d slept with you before now, before you really wanted to, it wouldn’t have been good for me in the end, either.”

It broke his heart a little to hear the words come out of her mouth—the way she’d put him on a pedestal, when he was so fucking fallible. To hear the pain beneath the words as she remembered those awful days after losing her brother. And to know he’d let her think he didn’t want her. For years. He’d had to—or he’d thought so until recently—but still, it left a dark, burning hole in his heart. “Ah, sweetheart. If you only knew how badly I wanted you the entire time.”

“You did?”

She gazed at him with wonder and trust in her eyes, in the softness of her features. So damn pretty, this girl. Prettiest girl he’d ever seen. It had been true back when she was only fourteen—in his reprehensibly perverted mind—and it was even more true now. But he could let it be. Because Summer Grace was no longer forbidden. How had it taken him so long to come to this place? How had it even happened that they were there together, finally? Talking in a way they should have a long time ago.