As I park outside and then walk up the steps to Sage’s front door, I notice that the only light I can see is the blue glow of the television. I should’ve called first, but I didn’t. Because I didn’t want her to not answer. I didn’t want her to tell me she has other plans. I didn’t want to hear anything but the sound of her moaning my name over and over and over, the sound of her losing herself in me like I am losing myself in her.

  I knock lightly at the door, just in case Willow is sleeping. There’s silence for almost a minute before I hear an awkward clomping sound followed by a pause and then the click of the locks opening.

  In the low light of the moon, backlit by the television, I see a petite figure in a tank top and panties, hair in a messy knot at the base of her neck, with her arm in a sling of some sort.

  “What happened?” I ask, not even trying to confirm which sister I’m speaking to, not really caring which sister I’m barging in on when she’s in her underwear.

  She backs up, stumbling over something and nearly falling before I reach out to steady her. I hear a giggly laugh before a soft, feminine form melts against my chest.

  As my eyes adjust, I see the glasses and I know that I’m holding Willow. Not only does she appear to be hurt, but she seems to be drunk as well.

  Fuck.

  “Willow, what happened to you?”

  Her grin is sanguine and not quite alert as she gazes up at me, winding her good arm around my waist. “I got in a car accident,” she answers, matter of fact.

  “When? What happened? Are you all right?”

  “So many questions,” she slurs happily, rubbing against me like a kitten. A sexy, studious kitten.

  My dick jumps.

  Fuck.

  Reluctantly, I reach around me for her wrist to try and gently disentangle myself. “Do you have any answers?”

  Her smile widens. “Yes. One.”

  When she doesn’t continue, I prompt, “And?”

  She leans further into me, her knee sliding up the inside of my thigh. I grit my teeth to keep from reacting. This is a dream and a nightmare all wrapped up in one.

  “I’m fine. Better than fine now. My mother left a couple of hours ago, pissed as hell. My sister won’t be home until tomorrow. And you’re here. I couldn’t be better.”

  “Willow, you’re obviously medicated.”

  “Ya think?” she giggles, bending backward until I snake my arm around her waist to make sure she doesn’t fall. Her arched spine pushes her tantalizing breasts up and out and forces her lower body into intimate contact with mine. Before I can even stop them, thoughts of pulling the low neck of her shirt down and taking one nipple into my mouth bombard my mind. In the blink of an eye, I’m sucking on it until she’s writhing against me. I’m reaching between her legs to touch her damp panties. I’m pushing them aside and driving my fingers inside her, so hard she bucks against me and comes all over my knuckles.

  Fuck.

  I know there’s no way to keep the blood from rushing to my cock now. Damn my imagination!

  Gingerly, I pull her upright, my leg slipping between hers as I stabilize us. I hear her gasp. I feel the warmth of her pussy through my jeans. I sense the pause and the way she turns serious all of a sudden. And I know what’s coming next. The bitch of it is, I don’t even try to stop it.

  Willow reaches up with her good arm and winds it around my neck, tugging until I lower my head. She smashes her lips against mine in a kiss that tastes desperate. And hot. And forbidden.

  I dive into her mouth, licking and sucking, temporarily lost to this little taste of something I’ve denied myself for what seems like forever. My hands are in her hair, on her back, biting into her ass cheeks. I pull her tight against me and she moves her hips, riding my thigh. She’s all but begging me to make her come and holy god how I want to!

  But I can’t. This is Willow. There is good reason I’ve resisted for so long. Damn good reason.

  Reluctantly, I pull away. She’s breathing rapidly as she stares up into my face, her eyes heavy with desire and whatever she’s taking for pain. “Willow, stop.”

  Speaking those words is harder than even I thought it would be. And they have an even more profound impact than I thought they would.

  “Why don’t you want me?” Willow asks bluntly.

  The question is like a sucker punch to the balls. I want her so fucking bad I can almost taste it. And I want to taste it, to taste her.

  “Willow, you’re my student.”

  “What if I weren’t?” she asks, something…anxious in her eyes.

  “But you are. And I’m dating your sister.” I see my words penetrate her daze like razor sharp arrows. But I don’t stop. I can’t. I have to make this clear. For both our sakes. “This can never happen. Never.”

  I don’t know what to make of the expression that sweeps across her beautiful face. It looks like a million things, few of which make any sense to me. The only thing I know for sure is that I have to get the hell out of here.

  “Will you be okay by yourself?”

  Her laugh seems bitter. “Oh this?” she asks, nodding to her immobilized arm. “This is nothing. I’ve been through worse. A million times worse. And that’s only the beginning.”

  She laughs again as she turns away from me. “See you in class, Mister Daniels.”

  I actually move about an inch and a half toward her, nearly giving in to my desire to sooth her, to sooth myself. To rid my body and my soul of this need for her, once and for all. But I stop myself. God only knows how, but somehow I manage it.

  By the time I get to my car, I feel like putting my fist through the windshield. Anger is boiling in my blood. Anger over Willow and the fact that I could’ve taken what I’ve wanted for so long. Anger over my mother and the fact that she has found me after all these years. Anger over Sage and the fact that I can’t seem to reach her yet her car is here in the parking lot.

  I push back into the driver’s seat, straightening my arms and squeezing the steering wheel until my fingers ache. Then I pound the heel of my hand against it until I fear I might break the damn thing.

  Ten long minutes of internal battle have passed before I start my car and drive away from Willow and everything that she represents.

  THREE- WILLOW

  A loud thumping wakes me. At first, it coincides so perfectly with the pounding of my head that I don’t realize the noise is actually external. It’s when I hear the clatter of keys hitting and skittering across the bar that I come fully awake.

  I don’t have to ask or wonder or be afraid. I know exactly who it is. I can feel the chill in the air, the disturbance in my soul.

  It’s impending doom.

  It’s Sage.

  She’s home. And the jig is up.

  Seconds later, my door is unceremoniously flung open to reveal my very upset sister.

  “What the hell? I told you I’d be coming home today and you couldn’t even bother to drag your ass out of bed to pick me up?”

  I lean up just enough to glance at the clock. It’s already past noon. I flop back down, wishing I could turn back the clock, and not just metaphorically speaking. Metaphysically as well.

  “God, you are such a bitch,” she mutters, shaking her head as she turns away.

  “Sage!” I snap, sitting up in bed and flinging off my covers. She whirls back toward me, fury in her eyes, until she sees my shoulder immobilizer. Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t ask any questions; she just waits for me to explain myself. “I was in a car accident. Didn’t you wonder why the phone suddenly went dead?”

  She shrugs. “No. I thought you were just being pissy and hung up on me.”

  “Because I do that so often. I think that’s more your M.O. than mine.”

  “Whatever,” she mutters off-handedly. “What happened?”

  “I got T-boned as I was pulling into the lot. Dislocated my shoulder.”

  “Is that it?”

  I can’t help but laugh. She really is a cold, selfish bitch. “Yes, Sage. That’s pretty much it. I was in the hospital for twenty-four hours for observation and then Mom brought me home.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She went back home.”

  “How’d you manage that?”

  “It took some convincing, but I finally managed to get her to see that I’m fine and that all I needed was rest. Rest that I couldn’t get if she was bugging around here. She knew you’d be home today, so…”

  “Yeah, I called them, too.”

  Anger spikes in the center of my chest. “Evidently so. Sounds like you had quite the conversation.” I can’t keep the bitterness from my tone. In fact, I don’t even try.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You just had to tell her about everything, didn’t you?”

  “Like what?” she asks innocuously.

  “Don’t play dumb, Sage. It’s insulting. You know I’m talking about the pages you gave to Ebon, the fact that I stopped my meds. All of it. Things that weren’t your place to tell.”

  “How is your welfare something I’m not supposed to talk about with our mother?”

  “When I’m fine, it’s no one’s business. How would you feel if I called her periodically to tell her who you’re sleeping with and what kinds of parties you’ve thrown and which brand of tampon you’re using?”

  Sage rolls her eyes. “I’m not the one who’s sick.”

  Angrily, I spin to put my feet on the floor and stand, every muscle in my body taut. Oh, how I’d love to throttle the shit out of my sister sometimes. “Well, lucky for us all, I’m not sick anymore, so fuck off, Sage.”

  I stalk past her and go straight to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I stand perfectly still, boiling, my fingers clenched into tight fists. My fury is interrupted by the generic ring of a phone. My “Sage” phone.

  My heart stops.

  I hear a muttered What the hell? that prods me into motion. I fly out of the bathroom just as Sage is making her way into her bedroom to investigate the sound. I push past her and launch myself across the mattress to grab the phone from the bedside table, hitting the mute button on the side before calmly crawling off the bed and heading back to the bathroom. From the corner of my eye, I see her mouth hanging open. I see the question in her eyes, but I keep right on going. I can’t trust her with the truth.

  In the bathroom, I wait for the voicemail alert to pop up. When it does, I press play and listen to Ebon’s voice as he asks where I am and tells me to call him.

  With a sigh, I lower the phone. I’ll just have to avoid him for a while until I can figure out what to do. I know I can’t be Sage anymore. At least not like I was. The problem is, I don’t think I can break it off with him yet.

  Maybe if I can just hold him off for a little while longer, I can think of something else to do. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it. Anything is better than giving him up completely. Anything.

  FOUR- EBON

  I’m restless. I feel like everything is in a flux and there’s little I can do about any of it.

  Although I haven’t heard from her again, I find that I’m constantly wondering when my mother will show up. And how. That’s a big pain in my ass.

  Sage is a source of consternation, too. I’ve called her several times and left messages, all to no avail. I haven’t heard back from her.

  If something were wrong, surely I’d know. Surely Willow would’ve said something. Plus, she said Sage would “be back tomorrow,” which was yesterday. Wednesday. But it’s Thursday now and still no word. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see what happens there.

  And then there’s Willow. I can’t really risk going by to see Sage after what happened. Willow’s kiss has set me back quite a bit. I’d done a pretty good job of not thinking about her so much, of not focusing on how much I want her. I owe a lot of that progress to Sage. But now…with Sage being elusive and Willow having kissed me…hell if I’m not finding my way right back to square one.

  I think above and beyond any of those things, however, is the niggling sensation that something is wrong. Or that I’m missing something.

  Willow wasn’t in class yesterday, although considering her accident, I’m not entirely surprised. I haven’t heard from Sage since we got back from the beach on Sunday. Although those aren’t reasons to be suspicious of anything, still, I am. The more I relive kissing Willow, the more suspicious I become.

  Every time I replay it, I feel differently about it. At the time, I was so taken aback by her actions that I just dove into it like a starving man. I felt as desperate and frantic as she seemed to feel. But now, with each time I think back on it, I discover something else. Something I missed before. Like the fact that she smelled a little like Sage. I guess that’s nothing to write home about. I mean, they are sisters who live together. Who’s to say they don’t share perfumes and bath products? But that wasn’t the only thing.

  Her lips, they felt…familiar. One could argue that that, too, could be a product of her being Sage’s twin. The feel of her body against mine…same thing. They are identical.

  But the overall feel of the kiss was so easy, so acquainted that I find myself going back to it over and over and over again. If I hadn’t known somehow (the glasses, maybe?) that it was Willow, would I have thought it was Sage?

  The way she was dressed, the way she melted into me, the way she seemed to know my mouth, my body, my touch…yes! I would’ve.

  And that knowledge has been continually bringing me back to the moment when Sage quoted Lady Chatterly’s Lover after we had sex that last night at the beach. It was so unlike her. So very like Willow. Is it enough to make me rethink everything? By itself, probably not. But when coupled with all these other oddities, I can’t help wondering.

  Wondering…

  But that’s ridiculous. To think that they could…that they would…that I could not have known…

  No way.

  Surely not.

  Right?

  I run my fingers through my hair and pace the living room floor for the millionth time.

  What the fuck is going on here? Am I losing my mind or am I the victim of the second greatest con of my life?

  FIVE- WILLOW

  I stare down at the silent phone. I resist the urge to listen to Ebon’s last message for the fourteenth or fifteenth time. It came in Saturday night. I muted it, just like all the others. Sage was here. I had no choice. But even if she hadn’t been, I’m not sure I’d have done any differently.

  I’m still no closer to figuring out what to do. I can’t bring myself to talk to him. To talk to him would mean I’d have to end things with him. I’m just not ready to do that yet. Besides, with Sage around so much, it would be nearly impossible to tackle that kind of conversation anyway.

  I suppose I could’ve gone to school today and tried to catch him after class. I mean it is Monday, almost a week after my accident. I feel fine. In fact, I took off my shoulder brace this morning and very gently moved my arm. It’s a little sore, but I don’t think I need to wear it for a whole other week. Still, I didn’t go to class. I just don’t think I can face him yet. I need a plan first.

  So I’m waiting. Waiting for inspiration. Waiting for some magical…thing to come along and tell me that it’s not over. That I don’t have to give him up yet. That there’s a way.

  The jingle of a phone jars me from my thoughts. My heart skips a beat, but only one. It only takes that long for me to realize that it’s my phone ringing, not my “Sage” phone.

  I sigh dejectedly. Ebon hasn’t called in two days. The situation may take care of itself without the need for intervention on my part.

  I reach for my phone and check the screen. It’s Tiffany. Probably checking on me. I haven’t talked to her in a while either.

  “Hello?”

  “Okay, whatever mysterious things are going on with you, please tell me that they’re not going to interfere with you coming to play practice tonight. It’s the next to last one before they start the shows at the end of the month.”

  I swallow my second sigh.

  Shit.

  “Of course I’m coming. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Although I would. Because I’m as selfish as my sister sometimes. And I suck.

  Tiffany doesn’t bother to hide her sigh. “Good. Phew.”

  “I won’t be able to do dinner, though. I had a car accident last week and I’m still a little sore. I didn’t even go to class today.”

  “Ohmigod, Willow! Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Just sore. It’s no big deal. I can still come to practice tonight. I just won’t be able to lift a lot, but I can help with the costumes and stuff.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I smile. Poor Tiffany. She deserves better than me. “I’m sure. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “You’re the best, Willow.”

  “I wish you were right,” I say vaguely before we hang up.

  It only takes about twenty minutes of the guilt of Tiffany’s call—a call that reminded me that I have a choice to make, that I can choose to be a better person than the one I’ve been portraying lately—to give me some much-needed resolve. Even though it’s not what I really want to do, I know that I have to do something about Ebon. At least talk to him. I can’t keep doing this to either of us. I owe him more than that.

  So I make up my mind. The next time he calls, I’ll answer. I have no clue what the hell I’m going to say, but at least I’ll answer.

  SIX- EBON

  My restlessness has only gotten worse. I couldn’t pace around my living room one more time without losing my goddamn mind, so I came out. To go where, I don’t know. I just had to get out of the house.

  I cruise the streets of Gainesville, stopping at the red lights and staring, unseeing, at the world as it goes on around me. The hustle and bustle is evidence that the universe is uninterested in my thoughts and my cares. This is my burden to bear. Mine alone.

  It’s when I’m sitting at one such stop light that I see her.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7