Page 5 of The Twins

Remo turns, letting my wrist go.

I face his back. I’ve memorized his scars like he has mine. Faded gunshot wounds, holes that were sewed back together. Some scars are lines, luring the observer to believe he was stabbed when he wasn’t.

The difference between our scars, most of them at least, is that mine were meant to torture.

His?

His scars were meant to kill.

Remo wouldn’t be here with us if he weren’t a strong man, held to this earth by his twin brother. Yes, Vegas insists that he holds power in that matter. He wouldn’t let his brother die. He’d drag his poor brother back from hell to bring him back to us.

I don’t like being reminded of Remo dying.

I don’t like it.

At all.

I sob. It’s an ugly sound that I’m not proud of. I want to crawl somewhere and hide, but we’re in the water, and I can’t go anywhere.

I don’t enjoy crying in front of people. It’s a choice that was taken from me too often, but when I think of Remo being gone, I can’t hold back the shivers.

“Hey, I’m here. What’s wrong? Talk to me, Grey. It’s only me. Remo. I love you. Stay present, baby. Please? Come back to me.” Remo’s quick. He returns to me, and I want to disappear. This place must hold special memories for him, and I’m ruining it with my tears. I’m adding to his baggage with my weakness.

Remo pulls me into a hug, the water splashing all around us.

Other people need space when they have a moment. My men know that I need love and affection on overload. It’s my greatest fear, losing the soft and tender moments.

That’s what sends me into a panic.

Now that I know what it’s like to be cherished, I don’t want it to fade away.

I breathe hard into his embrace. I need to feel his heartbeat. I listen in closely, almost inhaling water in the process.

“I love you so much. You are my world now, don’t you know? You are loved, Grey. We love you. Be present for me,” Remo whispers to me. He says all of that to me, but why does it feel like he’s the one who needs to hear it?

“I’m here,” I announce, my voice cracking. “Your scars triggered me.”

“They did?” Remo rubs my shoulder blades with his hands. His legs kick and pull, keeping us afloat. I climb on him, sticking close to his body. “Do you want me to make it feel better?”

I nod, my fingers stroking his shoulder blades.

He removes me from his body, and I reluctantly swim on my own, observing as he climbs up the boardwalk, taking a seat by the edge. He’s dripping water, breathing hard. He’s a lot to take in. His broad shoulders are freckled from all the sun he’s been getting lately, and I want to kiss every single one of his freckles.

“Why do you have to be so gorgeous? You and your brother? Who do you get it from?” I ask, pouting. Remo’s body is temple of flawlessness, scars and all. He’s ripped from top to bottom—and oh, the bottom on this man. “You haven’t cut your hair in weeks, and it looks as if you mean for it to be this messy and attractive.”

“You like my hair?” He blushes like he doesn’t know what he does to my body with the mere presence of his.

“Of course, I do. It’s perfect!” I tell him.

“I’ll grow it out for you then,” he promises, and my eyes go wide. “What is it?”

“Don’t do it for me,” I urge him.

“I’ll do it for whomever I please,” Remo insists. He smirks, but it’s an empty expression. His face is closed-off like it always is when we’re at this lake. “Now join me on this boardwalk. We have plans.”

“What type of plans?” I innocently ask.

“Painful ones,” he says, and my heart fills with yearning. I lift myself on the boardwalk, and before I can take a seat next to him, he grabs hold of me. I yelp and giggle at his touch when there’s nothing funny about it.

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