Page 50 of Pack Me Up
I’m not technically supposed to be here. The whole pack set aside specific times to spend with Brittney to ensure she got time with all of us before her mini heat hits. If I were a better twin, maybe I’d respect the boundaries we hammered out, but I’m not.
Brittney’s door is ajar as she spends time in her room alone, waiting for Cody.
I flatten my palm to the wood, steady my breath, and try to channel Cody’s version of entering a room.
I push in. She’s on the bed, sitting cross-legged in a tangle of sheets, guitar across her lap and a clutch of pencils jammed behind one ear. She doesn’t look up and keeps scribbling chords into a battered spiral, lower lip caught in her teeth. The room is dense with her scent, sweet and calm right now. Something in my chest skips.
“Hey,” I say, low and even, just like Cody would.
She flicks her eyes up, grins, and says, “Hi Colton, I thought it was Cody’s time with me?”
I keep trying, just to be sure. “I am Cody.”
She laughs and narrows her eyes at me. “Colton, are you testing me right now?”
Busted in two seconds flat. I bite back a laugh. “How do you know?”
She tosses the pencil at me, deliberately missing. “The difference between you two is obvious. Just because your appearances are the same doesn’t mean your souls are.”
I drop onto the end of the bed, careful not to crowd her. She sets the guitar aside, curls her knees up, and waits. “I like that you can tell the difference. Even my brothers mess it up sometimes.”
She frowns. “Well, I will correct them until they never mix you up again.”
I brush a strand of hair out of her eyes and confess, “That means a lot to me, actually.”
“I could never confuse you with Cody, and the more I get to know you, the more obvious that is to me.” She presses a kiss to my cheek.
That, combined with her words, makes butterflies erupt in my stomach. That’s never happened to me before.
“So, you want me to go?” I ask, but my body’s already angled toward her, elbows braced on my knees.
She shakes her head, hair spilling over her shoulder. “No. I’m pretty sure you’d sulk in the hall if I said yes.”
I grin. She’s not wrong. “You think Cody’s gonna murder me when he gets here?”
Brittney’s eyes crinkle at the corners, like she’s trying not to let me see how much she enjoys the chaos. “He’s soft on you, so no.”
“Wow, you really do get us,” I say, not sure if it’s a joke or just the truest thing anyone’s said in this house.
I scoot up the bed until we’re shoulder-to-shoulder, the lamp painting everything between us in soft amber. The mattress dipsunder my weight, and for a second our knees knock. She doesn’t pull away.
“Seriously, though,” I say, “how do you tell us apart? Give me something because nobody ever gets it right.” I pause. “Except you.”
Brittney’s mouth tilts. “Cody laughs with his whole face. You laugh with your eyes first.” She nods at my hand. “And you talk with your hands, even when you’re not saying anything. Even when the two of you are playing your twin act, I see the differences.”
I look down. My fingers are drumming the comforter, nervous as hell. “Huh.”
She leans in, drops her voice to a whisper. “And you smell different.”
That one nearly undoes me. The idea that she can distinguish my scent, even with Cody’s always wound around it, like she’s tuned to some secret radio channel only we share. I want to believe it’s true.
I want it to be true more than anything.
Before I can say something stupid, the door opens again. This time, it’s Cody, looking exactly like I thought he would, with a big smile, arms loose, and eyes flicking from me to Brittney and back again.
For a second, no one moves.
“Hi, Cody,” Brittney says.
