“Well, you are an idiot, but not about that.”
“And you’re the idiot who chased after me. So what does that say?”
Nick cracked his knuckles. “That you already have a brother, and if you want me to put that fucker in his place, just give me an address.”
Simon exhaled roughly as his throat constricted. “I know that. I fucking know.”
“Then? Let’s go.”
Laughing felt like popping the top on a valve. He hissed with the release, flexing his aching hands and wishing like hell he could fill them with Margo. Just Margo. She would quiet the riot in his head. It wasn’t even about sex. Love was so much more goddamn amazing even than that—and so much more terrifying.
“He looks just like me. How can that be? All these damn ye
ars, and he was out here and I didn’t have a clue.”
“So you think it’s real then.”
“Don’t you? Did you look at him? Listen to him?”
“There’s doppelgängers everywhere. Some people say I look like that Alex Pettyfer dude and I sure as hell am not secretly British.” At Simon’s raised brow, Nicky gave him a side eye. “Too soon.”
“I saw his birth certificate. My parents’ names were on there. Middle names even.”
“He could find that out if he looked. Everything’s on the web, man. And a good forger could—”
“A forger couldn’t give him my voice. Or damn close enough that if I closed my eyes, I’d think I was listening to myself ten years ago. Back when I had that fucking range.” He pushed a hand through his hair, fisting it so that the pain traveled up his arm.
He’d even had that mannerism too. The fucker had raked a hand through his hair over and over on stage. He’d done it once or twice in the apartment too. Not all that unusual on its own, except the list added up.
“You still have your range. Maybe you don’t use it all the time now, because you gotta be careful. Don’t need to bust anything else open and shit.” Nick bumped him with his shoulder again. “Getting old, remember?”
Simon had to laugh. “I thought we weren’t.”
“I’m not. You might be.”
“Asshole. We’re the same age.”
“Months different counts.”
“Only when you’re twelve.”
“How old is he?” Nicky asked after a moment.
“Twenty-five.”
Nick shook his head. “Damn infant.”
“He wants what I have. What we have. He’s hungry for it. Has that burning need we used to have. Remember?”
“You saying we don’t anymore?”
“I’m saying it’s different now. For fuck’s sake, we all have wives. Kids. We’re settled.”
“You don’t have a kid.”
“Yeah, well, you have two, so you got an extra for me.”
“We’re trying for another one.”