Page 170 of A Little Complicated

MAVERICK

It’s been a weird week.

I was discharged from the hospital a few days ago with a gadget to monitor my heart to track any inconsistencies, and I’ve been to Dr. Scott’s office twice. My parents attended the first appointment with me and Ophelia. Now, Archer’s driving me home from my most recent one. Ophelia had practice, so despite the fact she insisted on tagging along, I told her we’d catch up afterward. Grudgingly, she agreed.

Dr. Scott tested Archer for HCM. He doesn’t have it. His heart’s as healthy as a horse’s, or at least it’s what the doc said. I didn’t realize how much the news would bring me relief, but it has.

We’re identical twins. The odds of us sharing the goodandthe bad genes aren’t exactly a stretch, and the idea of my brother having the same fucked-up heart as I do was more than I could stomach.

“Thanks for driving me,” I murmur.

Archer glances at me from the driver’s seat. “No problem. How are you feeling?”

I hate this question. I’ve been asked it a hundred times since everyone found out about my diagnosis. Even the Lady Hawks insisted on decorating my bike when word got out.

But the answer is hard to explain. It’s like I’m living a nightmare I can’t wake up from. And in a way, I don’t want to wake up from it because if I do, does it mean I’m dead?

“I think that’s the most fucked-up part, man.” I scrub at my tired eyes. “Other than feeling tired, I feel…normal. Like none of this is real.”

He nods, but stays quiet as he stops at a red light.

“Can I tell you how done I am with being poked and prodded, though?” I grunt.

He glances at me in the passenger seat again, then turns back to the intersection. “I can imagine.”

“I’d kill for some normalcy.”

He nods, lost in thought. “What if we do a game night or something? I have another conference and fly out tomorrow morning, but we could do it tonight if everyone’s free.”

The idea sounds better than he knows. I’ve been so bogged down with my appointments and shit, being able to simply hang out with our friends sounds perfect.

Shifting in my seat, I pull my phone from my back pocket. “I always knew you were the smart twin,” I joke. “I’ll text Reeves and the rest of the guys right now.”

“Don’t forget Fin and Dylan,” he adds.

I tilt my head. “You really think Finley would let me—or anyone for that matter—forget her?”

He laughs dryly. “Good point.”

“And Lia,” he continues.

We haven’t talked about Opie since the hospital, and I’ve tried to keep a respectful distance between me and her whenever Archer’s in the same room with us. It’s been hard, considering my impending expiration date, but the idea of creating more friction between everyone is more than I can handle.

Still, Archer mentioning her feels like an olive branch, and I’m grateful for it.

“Sure thing,” I reply.

As I finish sending out invites, Arch pulls into the driveway and turns the car off, but he doesn’t reach for the door handle. He simply stares at the steering wheel.

Setting my phone in my lap, I unbuckle my seatbelt and wait.

People talk about how twins can read each other unlike anyone else. It’s hard to explain, but it’s true. We’ve always been in sync. And right now, my brother has something he needs to get off his chest.

“Listen,” he starts. “I think we can both agree it’s been a fucked-up few days.”

I chuckle dryly. “Yeah, you could put it that way.”

“But now, with things beginning to settle and shit, I, uh, I want to talk about Lia.”

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