Page 224 of Wild Like Us

“I don’t want to talk about him,” I say with more heat, breath visible in the cold. He knows I’m not referring to Xander.

I’m talking about our older brother who never lived past fifteen.

Thatcher pauses before saying, “I can fly back home.”

For me.“No,” I retort. “Don’t be a stunad, I’m fine.” I realize something fast though. “Unless you have to come home. You still have a job?”

“Still a strict-walking, no back-talking bodyguard, hell yeah.” Thatcher explains the new rules in order for Omega to keep their jobs after the video leak. One of which: they have to delete social media. I do too, but I’m only active on Facebook like Akara.

“Right on,” I say, and then we hang up.

On my walk to Epsilon’s mansion, my mind wanders. I run the back of my hand against my running nose while I rememberhim.

Skylar Moretti.

I remember that night he died.

The way my father yelled at Thatcher. We were justtwelve.God, Thatcher rode a bike to catch up to Skylar at the quarry. He was too late.

Why did I have to ride a fucking bike tonight? Why was it even sitting against the mailbox?I reached Xander in time.But why was it me? Shouldn’t it have been Thatcher?

“Huh?” I look up at the sky, heat burning my lungs. “Why? This wasn’tmy fucking redo.” I’m spiritual, maybe more so than my brother. And I’m superstitious.

It doesn’t make sense to me.

Why I had to be the one here tonight…

Why not give that absolution to my twin? That sense of accomplishment, of succeeding when you couldn’t the first time.

It stays with me the whole walk back. When I reach my residence, pain throbs my body again. Aches catching back up to me and amplified times ten, but I’m not ready to go inside.

I slip on the glove that I dropped and grab my shovel. Finishing the work that I started.

* * *