Page 94 of Yours Truly

There is only one me.

Trace

How I ended up in an intimate conversation with Rochelle the domme? I have no goddamn clue. And as much as I admit I avoided her before, now I don’t want our talk to end.

“I can’t believe the freedom in submission,” I tell her, my gaze moving from her to her partner. He doesn’t speak, and I’ve learned that their dominant and submissive roles span all of their lives, not just in the bedroom. It’s wicked interesting.

“I know, right? Most men don’t want to try it because they hear submissive and they think weak,” she says, using her thumb to stroke her partner’s hand, their fingers woven together.

I nod. “Yeah, that’s definitely how I felt about it. But I realized there’s a certain headspace to it?—”

Deuce’s hand comes down on my shoulder, jerking me back from the convo.

“Excuse me,” I say to Rochelle, turning to face Deuce. “What’s—” His eyes are wide, and his chest is heaving, out of breath. “Is everything okay?” I look him up and down. “Are you all right?”

He swallows. “Don’t freak out,” he starts.

I roll my eyes, panic blooming in my bones. “Oh, okay, because tearing me away by saying ‘don’t freak out’ is a great way to start a calm conversation.”

He bypasses my sarcasm, which has heat spiking up my spine. He never misses an opportunity to talk shit to me. “Someone destroyed your car.”

“Huh?”

“Your car…” He glances through the crowded studio toward the sidewalk and back to me. “It’s fucked up, man. Done for.”

I look around the shop. “Where’s Ivy?”

Deuce shakes his head. “I-I don’t know. Connor was leaving and he came back in, said your car is fucked up, completely destroyed.”

“She left,” Connor says, approaching us from the crowd.

“Thought you were taking off,” Deuce says to him. Connor shakes his head.

“Wanted to make sure Trace is okay,” he says, leveling his gaze on me. “Pretty vicious attack on you, man, are you okay?”

My head spins. “Wait– Ivy left?”

He nods. “I saw Juniper and her getting into a truck out front.”

Why the fuck would Ivy leave her own party? Why would she leave without saying goodbye? But… Why would she leave? It doesn’t make any sense. We were going to go back to my place together, have a romantic night. The celebration of her was only just getting started. I sift a hand through my hair, the back of my neck slick with nervous sweat. My stomach clenches.

“Holy shit,” Connor sputters. I look up and follow his eyes to a man moving through the crowd toward us. A man I know despite all my efforts to unknow him.

“Hey, brother.”

Immediately Deuce steps between us, pressing his hand into the center of my chest, anticipating a lunge. But I don’t move. I just stand there, staring into the eyes of my twin brother, the one I have purposely not seen in over a year.

I don’t have to ask him how he found me. He holds up his phone, my reactivated social media account glaring on his screen, the photo of mine and Ivy’s boots front and center. “You made it easy, brother,” he says, wearing his usual slimy smirk.

I notice that he’s copied my tattoos, his neck and hand matching mine. He’s probably trying to pass himself off as me for pussy, which is par for the course for this pathetic asshole. Derek has shown me that blood doesn’t make family, but loyalty makes family. And he’s not loyal.

“Oh shit,” Jeremy draws out, picking the worst time to appear. “So you were the one making out with the blonde,” he motions this thumb between us, relief softening his features. “I was gonna say, cheating on Ivy is not cool, man,” he says, eyeing me.

“Wait—” I face my twin brother. “You were making out with someone here?”

He tips his head to the side. “White tank, black skirt.”

The four of us follow his orders and find the woman matching his description on the other side of the shop.

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