Page 70 of Roses in Summer

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By the time we get home, I’m convinced something happened. Liv is always quiet, almost stoic. But right now, her reserved nature is arctic, cold, and detached.

Once we clear our apartment door, I can’t help the words that fly from my mouth. “What’s going on, Olivia? And don’t tell me nothing.”

She flings herself on the couch, her long, lean body sprawled out on the dove-gray upholstery. “I spoke to Rafe.”

“I figured as much. What happened? Did you two fight?” I wouldn’t pick a side—how could I when it was between my best friend and my twin? But I still want to know what the hell is going on.

“He wants a relationship.”

Oh. “That’s great?” I say as a question, not really sure how to respond.

“Yeah, it’s fucking wonderful,” she scoffs, covering her face with a delicate hand. “Just perfect.”

“Olivia, if you don’t want to be with Rafe, you don’t have to be with him. He would never pressure you.” The groan she lets out is pained, and I sit next to her, grabbing the hand not draped over her eyes. “Livvy, what’s really going on?”

She stays silent for a minute, and I almost expect her not to respond to my question, but then her voice breaks through. “Do you remember the summer of our junior year, when Rafe was on leave, and he was supposed to come visit you at Penn but never showed up?”

My brows furrow at her question. “Yes?”

“He came, except I didn’t realize it was your brother since I had only seen him in photos when he was younger and avoided FaceTime calls. He came into the bar during my shift, asked for a beer, and we talked for hours. I didn’t even know his name, but it felt like I’d known him forever. It was a difficult day for me, and he…” She releases a heavy breath. “He helped me through it. It was only after that that I realized who he was. I freaked out, told him we could never tell you, and he left.”

“Olivia, you know I wouldn’t have cared. You’re an adult, and as long as it was consensual, I would never care who you slept with.” Even if it is my twin brother, which makes me cringe, solely because I have to hear about them hooking up.

“Rafe would never take something that wasn’t given to him.” Olivia’s words are sharp, and I’m surprised by their sting. “I don’t talk about my past with anyone, ever, not even you. But the summer before college, I-I-I…” Her voice trembles, breaking, and I hold her hand tighter, squeezing it in encouragement. Her body shakes beside me, and I would pull her into a hug if I didn’t think that would force her to break apart entirely. The hand covering her face drops, and I see tears rolling down her cheeks. “The summer before college, I was drugged by two people I was friends with. Even now, after four fucking years, I don’t know everything that happened to me, and I don’t remember much of it, just vague shadows and pressure and so much pain that my body felt like it was on fire. I don’t—I haven’t—with anyone besides Rafe. He’s the only one who I felt comfortable with. The first time we were together, it was on the third anniversary of that night in the woods, and I just wanted to feel something.”

“Olivia,” I rasp, my voice scratchy. I pull on the hand I’m holding, helping her sit up so that I can throw my arms around her slender body. “I’m so sorry.”

Liv drops her head to my shoulder, shaking her head against my joint. “You don’t need to feel sorry for me. Feel sorry for Rafe. I can’t give him what he needs.”

I swallow thickly, knowing that if Olivia thinks she’s not ready, no reassurance or encouragement will rid the doubt from her mind. “Do you love him?”

“Do you love Lincoln?”

“Yes,” I answer honestly, not hesitating. “But our situation is different.”

“Not so different if you know you can’t be with him.”

Holding on to Liv, I hum in disagreement. “My senior year of high school, my ex-boyfriend told me that I needed to agree to a relationship with him or else he and his father would ruin my parents and their practice. I blindly agreed, barely even asked a question, and trusted the idiot who blackmailed me as though he was honest and I should take his words at face value. Lincoln and I had just met and started talking at that point. I hurt him—and me—when I told him I couldn’t speak to him anymore. I lost my trust in men, even those who are probably good and decent and kind.”

“He sounds like a douche.” Liv’s voice is wobbly, but I can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of me.

“You have no idea.”

We both fall quiet. With my arms wrapped around Liv and her face in my neck, we’re comforting each other, giving the support we each so desperately need but never explicitly asked for. “Why haven’t we spoken about this before?” Liv questions, her voice muffled.

“Fear, anger, resentment? Take your pick, I guess.”

“No more secrets, Ser. Okay? Promise me.”

Nodding against her, I do the only thing I can do.

I promise.

26

Lincoln

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