Page 61 of Pray for the Damned

“Take as long as you need. Everyone seems pretty settled at the moment, and a few of the booths are getting freaky, so you’re good.”

I follow her line of sight where a woman is trapped between two men, her legs spread over their thighs and their hands moving beneath the table.

Yeah, Saturday nights are much more hectic than weeknights.

“Okay, but if you need me, just let me know, and I’ll come straight back.”

She gives me a quick nod as she finishes pouring a whiskey neat and slides it across the bar to me. “He’s due for a refill.”

Before I can think better of it, I turn on my heel and head toward the corner where our resident voyeur is sitting.

“You called.” I smirk as I slip into the seat across from him and slide the glass toward him.

He chuckles. “Like an hour ago, but better late than never, I suppose.” His tone is lighthearted, but his eyes pinch at the corners with worry, and my stomach rolls.

Is he getting ready to end things?

It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been dumped after a couple of fucks, but after repeatedly being told he wanted more, I kind of started believing him.

I nibble at my lower lip as I twist my hands together in my lap. I’m not ready for this to be over yet. I want to explore my sexuality more, and while I may have more opportunities while working at the Scarlet Lounge, I’ve felt comfortable with Emmett since that first night. I don’t want to have to start all over again.

“I need to tell you something,” he finally says, twisting his fresh glass of whiskey around in front of him.

“Okay.” I nod slowly. Yep, this is definitely a breakup.

“I don’t know how to tell you this without freaking you out,” he admits.

“Oh my god, are you married?” Unease rolls over me at the thought. Surely not. He’s a pastor for God’s sake. Surely he wouldn’t step out on his wife.

“No.” He frowns. “No, I’m definitely not married. It’s just…there are things you don’t know about me that I probably should have told you before I allowed this to go as far as it has.”

His eyes settle on mine, and a fresh wave of anxiety hits me. The longer he puts off spitting it out, the more my anxiety spirals in my chest because there are only so many things that could be about to come out of his mouth, and none of them are sitting well with me.

“I have a twin,” he tells me. “An identical twin brother.”

“Okay…” My brows tug together in confusion. That’s not so bad. In fact, I don’t even understand why he’s bothering to tell me at all, especially not when he’s made it sound like whatever he wanted to tell me is a huge deal.

He swallows heavily, and his eyes flick over my shoulder. “You’ve actually met him.”

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can get the words out, a man sits down beside Emmett, and my stomach rolls uncomfortably.

Dressed in black jeans and a tight black T-shirt is an identical version of Emmett, except kind of rougher.

His hair isn’t styled like Emmett’s is. His five o’clock shadow has been allowed to grow rather than being removed, and there’s a wild look in his eye that I recognize a little too well.

My hand comes up to cover my mouth as nausea rolls over me. This afternoon I wasn’t with Emmett. I was with his brother.

I allowed a perfect stranger to fuck me over the back of his bike.

How could I not see the difference between them? They may look identical, but there are stark differences now that I’m staring at them sitting next to one another.

“I know this is probably a shock, Waverly,” Emmett says slowly, his shoulders tense while his twin’s are relaxed.

“A shock?” I ask incredulously. “This isn’t a shock, Emmett. This is fucking insane.” I turn my attention to the other brother, who is smirking as if he finds the situation amusing. “How dare you.”

“That’s not what you were saying when you were bent over my bike, babe.”

“I thought you were Emmett,” I snap. “And you made no effort to correct me.”

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