Page 27 of Twins for the Enemy

Chapter nineteen

~FARAH~

“This whole thing is lame,” Layla says, dragging out the last word for emphasis.

She leans against the counter and grimaces, wiping the traces of water off her arm.

The breakroom counter is usually covered in crumbs and dried spots of coffee, but I’d just wiped it off, and water droplets still cling to the laminate.

“What kind of asshole calls us in to work on a Saturday night?”

“I don’t mind,” I admit. “It’s a shotgun wedding—how often do we get to cater for that?”

“It’s a hotel, Farah. You can do it every other weekend.” She rolls her eyes. “At least these people will be saving some money on the wedding so they can pay for the divorce lawyer later.”

“So, no wedding bells in the future?” I ask.

“Oh, I will have at least three weddings.” She grins. “There is nothing more romantic than a wedding registry and guilting your family and friends into buying you new sets of knives.”

I laugh, but I stop as a memory captures my attention—Kieran grasping my hand as he uses his pocketknife to cut me out of my seatbelt after our crash.

The most insignificant details have reminded me of him for the last month.

Whenever I drink coffee, I think of him bringing me coffee in the hotel bedroom.

When I see something with natural beauty, I think about how he joined me to watch the deer.

The sight of any kind of bandage reminds me of being with him at the hospital.

The glow of lights at night reminds me of our drive through the city.

Even my bare mattress in my small apartment reminds me of when we had sex in his personal gym .

It’s ruthless that someone who spent so little time in my life eclipses everything else in it.

“Farah?” Layla asks. I snap my smile back on.

“Sorry. Just haven’t been sleeping well,” I say.

“I’d offer some alternative medicines, but with your two passengers…” She indicates my abdomen. “I’ll just advise some chamomile tea.”

I touch my stomach, spreading my fingers out to give the twins equal attention.

Out of all of the small towns, I decided to restart my life in Crested Owl because it sounded whimsical, and I needed whimsical a month ago.

It’s significantly less charming than it seemed, but I’ll make it work.

I don’t have any other choice. Matt hired me despite knowing I was fired from my last job and spent almost three months unemployed, so he must have been desperate—and it may be a long time before I find another employer like that.

It is also possible he knows that I saw him snorting cocaine, but either way, I caught lightning in a bottle, and I’d be a fool to let it go solely because the town constantly smells like burnt rubber.

Layla opens the refrigerator and shakes her head. “Ugh, I brought a salad I bought at the store, but I don’t think I can do that on the weekend. Do you want to go to Reggie’s?”

“I’m tight on cash right now.” I shrug. “I already had a snack anyway.”

She groans, her knees bending like a heavy weight was placed on her shoulders. “No wonder you don’t mind working today. I’m gonna go. I’ll bring you back a cookie or something. God may want me to suffer this weekend, but I’m going to suffer with a bacon and ham sub.”

As she leaves, my thoughts of Kieran return with a vengeance.

Layla pieced together that I was hung up on a man, and she’d told me to sleep with someone else to get over him, but every time I think about it, it makes me feel emptier.

It’s the difference between pretending to eat and eating a perfect combination of comfort and gourmet food .

My phone rings. Layla must have gotten in her car and realized she’d forgotten something.

But I check the number, and it’s not one of my contacts.

My finger hovers over the button that will silence the ringing, but it’s Chicago’s area code.

Could Kieran have found my number without Neal’s help? Should I be happy or angry about that?

Kieran intervened in one of the most private parts of my life. It’s still hard for me to breathe when I think about Neal in prison and that he’s been ignoring my phone calls, but with time and distance, I know that Kieran didn’t intervene out of bad intent.

We’ve all made choices that put us on the top of a pin, trying to balance and not get punctured.

“Hello?” I answer as the phone is about to switch to voicemail.

“Farah? ”

Not Kieran. It takes me several seconds to place the voice.

“Neal?” I ask. I reach for a chair, pulling it out to sit down. “I’m so glad you called back. I’ve been worried.”

I grip tighter onto my phone. I’m relieved to hear from him, but I’d forgotten how a conversation with Neal could twist and turn into anything.

“I’m sorry, Farah. They have rules here about phones. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Of course, I get it. It’s not like you can—” I stop. The phone hadn’t asked me if I’d accept a call from the prison. “Are you still in prison?”

“Prison?” he asks, confusion curling in his voice. “Oh, right. No. I didn’t—I didn’t serve any prison time. I thought Kieran would have been you about everything.”

“Why would he explain everything instead of my brother?” I ask. “I’d called four or five days after you turned yourself in. You must have checked your phone, or else you wouldn’t have this number.”

“He hasn’t told you anything?” he asks.

“Neal, I told Kieran to fuck off,” I say. “But that isn’t important. Why didn’t you—where are you that they have rules about phones?”

He groans. “I’m sorry, Farah. I didn’t know how to talk to you after everything.

When I got your call, I told myself I’d call you back after everything was settled and I wasn’t going through withdrawal.

I… I needed to deal with my own consequences, and I didn’t want you to have to deal with any of it.

I should have called. But after Kieran’s lawyers managed to get the deal, I went straight into rehab, and they don’t allow us to use a phone for a month. ”

“Rehab?” I ask. “You didn’t spend any time in prison?”

“Yeah, I have no idea how he did it either,” Neal says.

“But from what I’d overheard, Kieran greased a lot of palms and offered a fair amount of favors.

In the future, he and I may be sharing a prison cell together and we’ll have our battle to the death, but for now, I’m…

I’m doing good. I haven’t been able to say that for a long time. I need to thank you for that.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with you getting into rehab,” I say softly.

“You were the one who kept trying to push me toward it. And you were the one who convinced Kieran to give me the time of day. It’s why I’m so surprised he hasn’t talked to you about any of it. I get it now—I’d feel the same way if he’d done to you what I did to Helena.”

My grip has loosened on my phone. I lean against it, listening to the steady breaths of my brother.

I thought I couldn’t get the old version of him back, and maybe I can’t, but just like I was renewed after my car crash with Kieran, Neal can become new after he hit rock bottom—and I’ll love him with the same intensity, but differently.

We continue to talk, accepting our past ghosts and anticipating our future.

After I hang up, with Neal promising to call me back next week, I find myself looking at the crumbs under the breakroom’s cabinets.

It reminds me of when I broke through Kieran’s door and the splinters of wood I’d left behind.

I told myself I didn’t leave that day because I wanted to find out how he’d tracked me down. But I wanted him to always be able to find me.

Just like I’ll always go back to find him.