Page 47 of Merging Wright

My brother’s concentration doesn’t waver from the fire. “I never thought there was anything wrong with Wrightwood, though. Tracy didn’t either.”

The fights Tracy and I had come back to me. She didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to stay.

“Mach pushed for them to go. Tracy finally gave in.”

That is not what happened, and I hold my breath, wondering what lies Myles will spew next.

“Then there was the accident . . . and well, you know the rest.” He grips the beer bottle in his hand, staring at the neck of it.

Jane sits up, placing her hands on her thighs and stiffening her shoulders. She exhales. “Actually, I don’t know anything.”

Myles leans forward in his chair, and I tuck back in the darkness, keeping my position hidden by the corner of the house.

“Mach should tell you the rest of the story, then,” Myles states.

Taking this as my cue to reveal myself, I step forward. “Yeah, he should be the one telling his wife this story.” I glare at my twin. We were once best of friends. Then we turned eighteen and slowly became the worst of enemies. Twins are supposed to have an uncanny connection, unconditional love, and a constant vibe between them. Looking at Myles, I feel nothing.

His mouth opens while he stares back at me, but after a second or two, he clamps it shut. He drops his gaze to the firepit and nods once. “I think I’ll call it a night.”

Good fucking idea. I don’t give him a second glance even as he slightly struggles to lift his body from the outdoor chair. I step forward and drag another chair closer to Jane before taking a seat.

Jane keeps her focus on the flames, gently crackling in the dark night. The air is cooler than when we left the house. Time seems to have passed in a blink. It’s late.

Watching her face glowing in the firelight, I note her features. Her dark hair has a fiery glow from the flames, highlighting the hidden depth to the color. Her blue eyes glitter in the dancing light. Her nose has the slightest lift at the end, and her lips are lush and a deep purple tonight. My wife is so beautiful.

“Why did you leave the bar?” I ask as soon as Myles is gone. More importantly, why did she leave with my brother?

“You were busy.” Her terse response surprises me. Then she levels me with a sharp glare. “You promised to keep it in your pants.”

“I . . . what?” My brusque question echoes in the quiet of the night, and I clutch the armrest as I shift to face her.

“It’s the one thing I asked in this farce. Don’t disrespect me.” Her eyes hold mine, narrowing like miniature daggers aimed for the heart.

“Jane, I’m not disrespecting you.” Where is this coming from? “Do you think I’d cheat on you?”

“I don’t know what to think.” Jane exhales and lowers her head, taking her eyes away from me and hiding her face behind a curtain of her hair. Her hunched shoulders suggest I’ve hurt her somehow.

A heavy pause falls between us as I flip back over the past hours. Woman after woman—ancient acquaintances, unfamiliar faces—hugging me, kissing my cheek, holding my arm. Stark realization burns inside my chest like the tangy scent of charring wood and autumn air. Although my behavior earlier was innocent, I’d really hurt her.

“I’ll never be unfaithful, Jane. I made a vow to you.” My fingers grip the armrest tighter. Everything in me wants to reach for her, tug her to my lap, and kiss her senseless. Only a fool would cheat on Jane, and any man who had the notion to stray from her doesn’t deserve her. I don’t deserve her, but I’m faithful to her. I take my vows seriously, even if this isn’t love.

“Somehow, I doubt those vows mean anything to you.” Her cold words are a sharp slap to my pride.

My skin prickles with the accusation. “I was a good husband.” Am a good husband.

Am I a good husband?

I scoff. I’ve been shit to Jane, and we both know it. I want to argue this is all pretend. We aren’t real. We’re fulfilling an obligation. But the moment her fingers laid on my palms before the justice of the peace, everything changed.

“How would I know?” Jane quietly interjects. “I’m learning about your first marriage from others.”

“I told you not to talk to Myles.” My brother has filled her head with I don’t know what, just like he did with Tracy.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Jane states, her voice eerily calm.

“One of five facts . . . I can. You’re my wife.”

Her head snaps up, and those bright eyes are scorching flames. “A position that means nothing to you.”