Page 48 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

“You need to be careful with what you say to a girl like that. She could hurt you. Or me. I mean, you don’t want me to get hurt. Why did you bring me into it?”

“Because, I mean, she isn’t a one-time thing. I like her. A lot.”

“Chris, what are you thinking? Tyler is going to lose his shit when he finds out you’re fucking his baby sister, you know?”

She pinches the bridge of her nose like the weight of the knowledge physically pains her.

I inhale heavily through my nose and tighten my shoulders.

“When he finds out? Do you plan to tell him?”

“Maybe I should.”

Suddenly, a deep concern that Julie will tell him just to be nasty slinks its way into my mind, settling like a cat sunbathing in front of a window, a cat with waiting claws.

I look into her eyes and see a person I don’t recognize anymore, someone who would hurt me easily, who is maybe considering hurting me now, just for the hell of it.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Well.” She crosses her legs in the other direction and pulls her shoulders back, sitting up straight. She looks down at my outfit. “You ran here, didn’t you?”

“Mhm,” I answer warily.

“You’re so good about that, exercising. I never had your discipline. Maybe I could drive you home and we could talk more about it.”

It sounds more like a demand than a suggestion.

Chapter Twenty One

Hannah

I let Lucy into the backseat, knowing she’ll manage to wrangle her way into the front seat next to me, anyway, clever girl that she is. I get into the front seat and wrestle her front paws away from me as I pull out and head for Chris’.

Even though I’m afraid to see him and tell him my strange news, I know that I need to, that it’s only fair, that it would be cruel to wait any longer.

I shouldn’t have even let it go this long, but at least I have the painting almost done and I’m hopeful that will soften the blow.

The afternoon traffic does nothing to soothe my nerves, the crammed-together cars seeming to mimic my mind, the thoughts stuck to each other, dribbling through.

How do you tell someone that your dog is the same dog that their ex, the one who abandoned you at the altar, left in a dumpster? How do you tell him that his past is unknowingly intertwined with your present?

I pull up to Chris’ house, the weight of the revelation sitting heavy on my chest.

As I kill the engine, I look at Lucy—or should I say Noodle?

She sits on the passenger seat, her tail wagging slowly.

I always suspected she was smarter than the average dog, and I wonder now if she senses the gravity of the situation. I take a deep breath and pat her head before we step out of the car.

I push the little metal button at the front of the building, the one that corresponds with Chris’ apartment, and wait for him to answer.

When he doesn’t, I look around, suddenly feeling silly for showing up without calling. Did I forget he has a life? Of course he’s not home in the middle of the day. He’s probably at work.

I look down at Lucy as she sits on her haunches next to me, waiting patiently.

I think, not for the first time, that I won the lottery with her. She’s so good at waiting and at knowing when she needs to wait.

“Good girl,” I tell her quietly, as I decide that I should likely just go home. “Sorry, Luce,” I tell her, pulling her back to the car with me.

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