Her green eyes struck another chord with me. “I want to show you.” Her fingers swiped back and forth as she gulped. Gemma and I were close enough now that I could smell her shampoo again, and the strangest feeling flew through me as I stared at her. My stomach knotted, and my chest felt warm. Before I had a chance to say anything, Gemma flipped the paper around and angled it toward me. Her lower lip trembled as I tore my eyes away from her face and glanced down to what she felt so strongly about that it caused her to nearly cry.
Without even knowing I had done it, I grabbed onto her hands that were clenched onto the pale paper. A spark flew from our fingers, and I knew she felt it too. My finger slowly rubbed over hers as my eyes finally adjusted to take in the piece of art that I assumed she’d drawn.
It was fucking amazing. The detail was astounding. So astounding that I couldn't tear my attention away. My head dipped further, a piece of dark hair falling into my eyes as I flicked my head to make it disappear. The boy that stared back at me looked to be a little younger than us. Closer to Jack’s age. He had a strong jaw and eyes that were too familiar. There was a faint line of freckles over the straight nose, and the shadows under his eyes were so haunting I was forced to swallow before talking.
“Who is this?” I asked, finally getting a grip and looking back at Gemma. Her bottom lip, the same one that I desperately wanted to suck on, was pulled into her mouth. When our eyes collided, I knew right then who it was. It was her brother. Her twin.
Her tone was shaky as she pulled the paper back to her chest. “I have a brother too.”
Of course, I knew this information from my uncle, but I didn’t want Gemma to know that. She was being honest with me and giving up one of her secrets, and I’d fucking treasure it.
“A twin.”
“A twin?” I asked, sitting back on the desk and giving her the space she was seeking.
She flipped her small frame around, plopping the paper down onto the opposite desk from me. “Yes. His name is Tobias.”
The question clawed at me, as did the answer that I was certain she wasn’t even aware of. At least not at the surface. “And where is he? Why isn’t he here too?”
Gemma slowly spun back around, the green in her eyes glittering with unshed tears, and I almost flew off the desk to wrap my arms around her out of an instinct I wasn’t even aware I had. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in four years.” Four years? If he was at the Covens for that long…fuck. My hand clenched in my lap, and I hoped that Gemma couldn’t sense the dread in my posture. Before I could say anything, she spoke again. “I know he’s okay, though. I know he’s still alive.”
That caught my attention. I stayed locked on her, watching the way she fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “How do you know that? Have you talked to him?”
“No.” The tremble in her tone cut me. “I think…” She shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just know he’s alive. Call it a twin thing, I guess.” A small smile appeared, but it left just as quickly.
I thought for a moment, continuing to stare at her as her eyes bounced all over the room. Things were starting to make sense. Now I understood why she was so desperate to leave St. Mary’s, if not for the fact that her uncle was a piece of shit. “Is that why you’re leaving? To find him?”
I truly hoped not. Because if she had a hunch that he was at the Covens, and she walked in there without hesitation? They wouldn’t give her back.
A shaky breath floated around me as her eyes grew glossier. A mix of anger and fear and—shit—I think hurt etched all over her delicate features, and it felt like my flesh was being pulled from my bones. If she cried, I would rip apart every building, every person, every last living thing on this earth until I could make her tears disappear. I’d tear down the Covens, brick by brick, person by person, to find her brother if that made her happy. If that meant she could stay.
She can’t stay, Isaiah.
I pushed the voice out of my head and stood up on two confident feet. I strode over to her quickly, grabbing onto her warm cheeks that I hoped would stay free of tears. I was ready to tell her every last thought I’d just had. That I’d do anything to make her smile, to make the light come back in her eyes that completely messed with my head, but she clenched her eyes shut as she grabbed onto my wrists. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.” Her head shook, and my stomach thudded to the ground. It was strange. I’d never felt like this in my entire fucking eighteen years of existence, but I felt the connection. Her feelings were palpable—the pain, the fear. I felt it inside, and it was tearing me apart. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like that she had this effect on me. And I especially didn’t like that I couldn’t seem to make her problems disappear. Her voice hitched, and I was suddenly snared within her. “I just wanted to give you a small piece of myself like you did to me. I wanted you to know that you aren’t alone in what you feel. Life doesn’t seem to be easy for us.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I confirmed, my fingers weaving into her soft hair. My blood was beginning to run hot again, and I couldn’t stop staring at her lips. Passion was licking over every last nerve, and all I wanted to do was consume her. All of her. Her mind, body, soul, and even her heart. Gemma-fucking-Richardson just became the center of my world. And she had no idea. Our lips drew closer, and she peered up at me. “I want to take your problems and make them mine, Gemma.” I shouldn’t have said that. What was I doing?
Her fingers dug into my skin, and if only she knew that that made me want to lay her flat on the desk she was currently leaning against to claim her. “No,” she snapped. “I didn’t tell you this to make my problems yours. I just…”
“Wanted to give me a piece of yourself.”
She nodded, pushing her body closer to mine and resting her forehead on my chest. I was certain she could hear the racing of my heart, the way the muscle ricocheted off the hard planes of my ribs, trying to climb its way out of my body and into hers. “You could, you know. Give me all your troubles,” I said, dropping my hands from her hair and wrapping them around her to clutch her close. To hell with the fucking future. “If you want me to solve your problems, I fucking will, Gemma. Don’t tempt me.”
A small, light laugh floated from her mouth. “Some problems only have one solution, and you’re already on your way to helping me with that.”
That wasn’t true. I knew what the problem was. Or part of it. And I was ready to snap Judge Stallard in half and throw his body into the Pacific Ocean.
Gemma and I stood together in the dark art room, intertwined in each other for so long my arms grew numb. I had no intention of moving, but my phone vibrated in my pocket, and reality came crashing back in like a tornado. Gemma pulled apart from me as I wiggled my phone out and read the screen.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, glancing down to the brightness.
I sighed. “Yeah. It was just Cade, letting me know that Bain had left his room, but apparently, he is in Bethany’s.”
“The blonde who can’t seem to keep her hands off him?” She looked disgusted, and I laughed out loud.
“Keeping tabs on Bain now, are we?”
Another glimpse of a smile peeked on her flushed face, and I couldn't even help the rise of my lips. “Just trying to help out when I can. He likes to stare at me, so I stare right back.”