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Chapter twenty-two

Memory Lane

September 21, 1998

“Come on , Kenny!” Jessica tugged at his sleeve, squeezing his wrist in that impatient, insistent way only a twin could get away with. “You can tape Gladiators and watch it later.”

Kenny sighed, dragging his gaze away from the glow of the television. The roaring crowd filled the room, the energy pulsing through the speakers, wrapping around him like a familiar comfort. Gladiators was his Sunday ritual. Jet had just dominated the Eliminator round, her agility unmatched, and now Hunter was up next. Kenny needed to see the comparison, to analyse their techniques, to decide which one truly reigned supreme. And definitely not because he was torn between which of them he wanted to be… or which of them he fancied .

No.

Not that.

Not at all.

“I don’t want to watch it later. I’m watching it now.”

Jessica stamped her foot, her long dark hair swishing behind her, loose strands catching in the dimming light. “I went with you to that boring museum last week. Least you can do is walk to the shop with me.” Folding her arms, she tilted her chin in defiance. “Or I’ll tell Mum why you really like watching this crap.”

Kenny peered up. Jessica, bright-eyed and alive, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, curled her lips into that smug, knowing smile. And, of course, that meant she’d already won. She always did.

Well, she hadn’t once.

“Fine.” He shoved away the books from his lap and stood. “But you owe me.”

Jessica grabbed his hand and practically dragged him toward the door. “I’ll put extra sprinkles on your cupcakes.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it.” Kenny rolled his eyes in sarcasm.

Outside, the air was crisp with autumn, the sky a bruised shade of purple as dusk crept in. Their house—a two-story Victorian with ivy creeping up the bricks—sat at the edge of a woodland trail, where gnarled trees curled over the dirt path like watchful giants. Kenny walked side by side with Jessica, their breath puffing into the cold air, the rhythm of their steps in sync. Always in sync.

“Bet I can beat you to the old oak,” Jessica challenged, already darting ahead.

“You’re insane ,” Kenny called after her, but he broke into a jog to try and catch her, anyway.

She won, of course, grinning as she leaned against the towering tree.

Kenny narrowed his eyes. “I’ll beat you one day.”

No, he wouldn’t.

They reached the corner shop, and the bell jingled as they stepped inside, the smell of newspaper ink and warm bread filling the air. Jessica knew exactly where to go, making a beeline for the baking aisle while Kenny trailed behind, glancing at the magazines on display, wondering which one he could buy with what he had left of his pocket money. Did he pretend he liked football, or cars?

“Chocolate or rainbow?” Jessica called to him down the aisle, holding up two sprinkle bottles.

“Rainbow,” he said without thinking.

Jessica gasped. “Scandalous. I thought you were a chocolate man.”

Kenny shook his head as she tossed the bottle into her basket then grabbed the copy of Top Gear magazine. He could use it to chat to his mates at school about. As he moved the copy from the shelf, something else caught his eye. Attitude Magazine. He stared at it for a few moments, itching to take it, open it and look inside.

“Hey, you getting that?” Jessica nudged his arm, pointing at the magazine in his hand.

“Uh. Yeah.” He dropped Top Gear in her basket.

She studied him for a moment, searching, digging , peering into the parts of him he kept locked away. God, he hated when she did that. When she looked at him like she knew . As if she could see the cracks beneath his skin, the thoughts he barely admitted to himself. They might be twins, close ones at that, but Kenny still liked having secrets. Liked the idea that there were things in his head that were his alone.

Jessica’s expression flickered before she narrowed her eyes and skipped off toward the counter. She paid, stuffing the sprinkles and cupcake liners into a thin plastic bag, then twirled it around her finger as they left the shop. The sky had darkened, turning a deep, rich blue, the last dregs of sunlight bleeding through the trees as they meandered back through the woodland. The leaves whispered around them, a quiet hush making the space feel separate from the rest of the world.

Jessica bumped her shoulder to his. “You can tell me, y’know?”

“Tell you what?”

“Anything you want.” She peeped sideways at him. “I mean, I think I already know , but you can tell me. Hunter or Jet?”

Kenny didn’t answer immediately.

He just walked beside her, listening to the rustling branches, the distant hum of a car passing on the main road, the rhythmic crunch of their shoes on the path.

Then something inside him pulled .

As if an invisible hand gripped his ribs, shoving the words up his throat, an urgency so strong he couldn’t ignore it. A voice, his own voice, whispered, Say it now. If you don’t say it now, she might never, ever know.

He swallowed.

Then, because he had to, he said, “Both.”

Jessica stopped walking but Kenny kept going. Until he noticed he wasn’t in sync with her anymore. So he stopped too. Turned around. “What?” Fear crept into his throat.

“You like boys?”

Kenny shrugged. “Yeah.”

Her face lit up with a grin so wide, so full of delight it knocked the air from his lungs. She squealed, stamping her feet into the dirt, bouncing as if she couldn’t contain it. “ I knew it! ”

Kenny’s ears burned and he shifted on his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets. Was it such a big deal? “I like girls, too.”

Jessica cocked her head. Then she reached for his hand, squeezing it tight. “You can like whoever you want to like. It’s okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

Kenny smiled, but then a completely different fear tap-danced down his spine as he peered up ahead. A man, skinny and pale with shadows cupping his eyes like bruises, headed their way, calling out a frantic, “Rover! Rover!”

“Oh no.” Jessica pouted. “I think the man’s lost his dog.”

The man reached them. “Have you seen a puppy? Tiny little thing. He ran off. Probably so scared.” He stepped closer to Jessica as if Kenny wasn’t even there. “Little thing, white with a brown ear. I think he went toward the woods.”

Kenny’s stomach turned to ice.

“I can’t get over there with my bad leg,” the man said to Jessica. “Could you look for me?”

Jessica’s kindness, her innocence , made her linger.

But somehow, Kenny knew better, and he yanked her, dragging her away under duress. “ Run !”

They legged it. This time, it wasn’t a race against each other, but for each other. And they didn’t stop until they burst through the front door of their house, panting, chests heaving.

Inside, the scent of freshly baked cupcakes filled the air, with soft, ghostly piano music floating in from the sitting room where their mum was teaching a small child Debussy’s ‘Clair de Lune’.

Jessica slapped his chest. “What the hell , Kenny?”

He couldn’t explain it.

Couldn’t explain the dread curling in his ribs, the way his instincts had screamed at him to pull her away, to get her away .

He shrugged. “That man gave me the creeps.”

Jessica shook her head with a fond smile. “You’re so paranoid.”

Maybe he was.

But maybe, just maybe, he had saved her life.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrist. This time, her dragging him. “Come on, psycho , we have cupcakes to decorate.”

They set up at the kitchen table, tubs of frosting and sprinkles spread between them. Their mother’s piano teaching drifting softly through the house, each note seeping into the walls like an echo. Jessica dunked a spoon into the frosting and smeared it across Kenny’s nose, her laughter ringing through the kitchen like a melody he’d memorised by heart. Kenny huffed , tossing a handful of sprinkles at her in revenge, watching as they scattered across the table and into her hair. She shrieked , swatting at him, eyes bright with mischief, and for a second—for just a second—it felt real .

Felt right .

“So,” she said, dipping a finger into the frosting and licking it off absentmindedly, “what boys are you into?”

Kenny didn’t even have to think. The answer came as naturally as breathing. “Blonds. Feral, feisty blonds.”

Jessica looked at him. Then burst out laughing.

Pure, delighted, unapologetic laughter, shaking her head as if she should have known .

Except—

She hadn’t.

Because Jessica had never decorated those cupcakes.

Kenny had never told her he liked boys.

Kenny hadn’t saved her.

Not in reality. Not in the life he’d actually lived.

Because Jessica had never come home.

And this?

This wasn’t reality.

It was a dream. A correction . A desperate rewrite of history where he had said yes. Where he had walked with her. And dragged her away from that man in the woods and brought her home. Where she could have lived . But it was a fabrication. Conjured up by a dying brain, bleeding out in the middle of a warehouse, grasping for a second chance that never really existed.

Jessica smiled at him, soft and knowing, and she curled her fingers around his wrist. “Stay with me?”

The warmth of her touch burned , not with pain, but with longing .

She angled her head toward the sitting room where their mother played the piano, ‘Clair de Lune’ filling the air.

“With me and Mum? It’s been nice having her here, too. Dad’s upstairs, taking a nap. You know how he is.” She smiled. Warm. Inviting . “We could eat these cupcakes?” She took a bite into one. “Talk about boys.”

The pull was so strong, so undeniably right , that for a moment he wondered how he could ever say no. Why would he ever want to leave? This was where he belonged. With his sister.

He was whole again here.

Jessica tilted her neck. “Unless you have a reason to go?”

The question echoed. Hung in the air like dust motes in sunlight. The world beyond this one felt distant, like a dream. But something tugged at the edge of his mind. A fray in the fabric. The music shifted. Notes changing. Morphing into something older. Deeper. Intimate.

Something his heart recognised before his ears did.

Dream a Little Dream Of Me.

The light in the room dimmed, shadows stretching, deepening. At the piano, his mother was gone. Someone else sat in her place. Slender fingers on the keys. A bowed head of familiar platinum hair.

“Kenny?” Jessica gripped his wrist. “You look so very tired. Come rest.”

Kenny was tired.

So tired.

And, God, he missed Jessica. Missed this .

Missed the time when he’d believed in a world without pain. Without blood. Without darkness.

What reason could there possibly be to leave that?