I hate the scratchy feeling all over me as I approach him. I look at his face when he stares at me. I look for similarities that I pray I don’t find. I’ve never wanted my mother to be a liar more than I do right now.
Right now I need for her antics to be a manipulative ploy and not truth.
Mars is silent while I study his face. The same face I’d studied hundreds of times before. His brows are dark like mine and they frame blue eyes.
Blue. Not green.
Then I see the gray flecks in his denim blue eyes and remember his father’s mean green stare.
Green. Green. Green.
“Sage, what’s wrong?” Mars finally speaks and I begin unraveling, fraying at the seams as Mom’s words sink into the crevices of my mind.
“Mars,” I croak. In the next second he’s on his feet, holding me tight, because he knows I need him. I need his bravery and strength because I don’t have any. It’s been siphoned away. Now I’m weak and afraid.
“Sage, you’re scaring me, baby. What happened?” He brushes loose strands of hair from my face, and all I can concentrate on is how my hair is unruly, just like his. So many similarities that make us so perfect for each other.
“I have to ask you something,” I say, my voice trembling just as bad as my hands.
“What is it?” We sit on the bed and Mars holds my shaky hands in his.
“Is your dad’s name Nathan?”
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
I don’t answer him yet. I can’t. Instead, I ask, “Did he go to Duncan City High School?”
Mars nods his head in response and I feel my chest constrict. My stomach twists and I want this moment to vanish. “You wanna tell me what’s making you ask all these questions about my dad? Does your mom know him or something?” I can see his wheels spinning wildly trying to make connections.
“Yeah. They went to high school together. He was a grade ahead and…” I swallow back my nerves and squeeze his hand. I have to tell him. If I don’t, he’ll find out some other way and I can’t have that. I want it to come from me.
“And what? You’re killing me here,” he groans.
“They fooled around after your mom died.” I see Mars’s eyes narrow a bit. He’s moving things into place, I can tell. “She said you’re my…” Tears leak from my eyes, racing down my hot cheeks. “She said you’re my brother.” I have to bite the words out through clenched teeth. I can’t bring myself to look at Mars right now because I don’t want to see the confusion.
“What?” He laughs as though it’s the funniest thing in the world. I wish I thought it were funny. I wish I thought it was a joke, but I can feel the weight of truth sinking into my bones.
“Sage, you don’t believe that shit, do you?”
“I don’t know what to believe.” I pick at the sleeves of Mars’s hoodie and stare at the paint-speckled carpet under my feet. Now Mars is quiet too. It feels like the entire world is quiet.
“Maybe…” His words fade as quickly as they start. “Maybe that’s why Dad looked so spooked when he saw you.” He pushes to his feet and paces the floor. He stops and our eyes lock.
That’s when I see it.
I see all the confusion and anguish I didn’t want to see.
He believes it too.
“Fuck.” He slides his fingers through his hair repeatedly, but it keeps sweeping his forehead. “This is so messed up. How is that even possible? Why wouldn’t she tell you something like that? Who keeps shit like this a secret?” Tension makes his muscles tight. “Why wouldn’t my dad tell me I had a…sister?” The word makes his top lip curl in disgust as if it’s toxic on his tongue.
My stomach flops and I turn my head. I can’t keep looking at him. All I can see are all the times we kissed and all the places his hands have touched me. My traitorous body reacts to the memories.
How would I have known though? I had no way of knowing I was falling for my brother.
Mars’s voice yanks me from my thoughts. “I gotta go, Sage. I need time to think.” His guard is up and I hate it. It feels like a punch to the gut. I know he needs time to uncoil. He needs time to ask questions and let the confusion have its way with his thoughts, but I hate that it means he’ll leave.
Then I’ll be alone with my own thoughts.
“Mars…” I don’t know why I call out to him but I do.
“I don’t want to talk right now. I just need to figure some things out and get answers.” His voice is cold, and even if it’s not aimed at me, it still hurts like hell. The pain in his eyes drives the knife deeper into my chest. “I’ll text you,” he says before leaving my room. I don’t have the heart to follow him and watch as he leaves out of the front door. I’m too weighed down by everything.