I need water. My mouth is so dry; it’s as if I just walked a mile in the Sahara Desert without water. Peeking an eye open, I decipher my surroundings. My stomach tightens. Oh, shit, I did it again.

A guitar rests against the wall in the corner, and some band posters fill the walls. It’s oddly clean, and thankfully, no foul smell hits me. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure I’d be running into the bathroom from the nausea I’m pushing aside. Then, I spot a leather jacket hanging off a chair, and I sigh.

Brady.

A breath releases from my mouth as I realize that I’m in Brady’s room. I’m safe.

Then, his last words from the previous night register, so I examine myself. I’m fully dressed although my skirt has risen a little higher, stopping just below my ass.

Brady isn’t next to me or even in the room. In fact, it looks like I slept in this bed all by myself. Sadness automatically hits me. This is the way I always wake up—alone. I thought Brady was different, but he didn’t even have to sleep with me to not want me the next morning.

I sit up and notice a water bottle with two aspirin next to the bed. At least he left me a good-bye gift. I put the two white pills into my mouth and unsnap the water bottle. I let the water fill my mouth, swallowing the pain relievers. The cold water tastes so good. I continue drinking it, and before I realize it, it’s empty. I want about ten more bottles.

My clothes are neatly folded on his chair where I left them last night. I strip down from my rocker clothes and replace them on the chair, changing into my jeans and sweater. Picking up Brady’s leather jacket, I bring it close to my nose and inhale deeply one last time before I make my secret retreat.

I’m going to miss him.

I know this act well. Carrying my shoes in my hand, I tiptoe down the stairs. It’s like Drayton all over again. The sound of every step bounces off the walls of the quiet house. When I reach the bottom, I turn down the hallway to sneak through the kitchen to get to the back door. The aroma of coffee wafts under my nostrils when I’m about to walk into the large kitchen.

Shit, shit, shit. I freeze in the doorway.

Brady is standing in front of the counter, facing the stove, in a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt. The blue plaid pants rest low on his hips, and the strands of his hair are sticking up every which way.

God, he’s sexy as hell.

Changing my plans, I turn around to go to the front door instead. I pray he doesn’t notice me through the kitchen window when I walk down the drive to my car.

“Sadie,” his gravelly voice speaks behind me.

I close my eyes, willing the tears away as they threaten below my eyelids.

I rotate to face him, putting on my best smile. “Good morning, Brady. Thank you for last night.” I swallow before saying my last words, “I guess I’ll see you around.” I give a wave of my hand and flip back around.

“Come have breakfast with me before you go,” he requests.

From the heat of his body, I know he’s right behind me.

Those damn tears are trying to let loose. I can’t have breakfast with him. He’s different than the others. It might break me more than I already am.

“I need to get going. I have a paper to work on,” I lie, keeping my back to him.

He rests his hands on my shoulders, and one lone tear slips out and cascades down my face.

“What’s wrong, Sadie?” His voice is quiet and empathetic, and I swear he knows my secret already.

“Why do you want me to stay, Brady?” I hear my voice shake, praying he doesn’t.

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re my girlfriend.” With that, he swings me around, and when he sees my face, he pulls me to him, wrapping me in his arms. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

The tears fall like rain. Actually, the sounds coming from the back of my throat probably resemble gusts of wind that flow through the air before a tornado hits its mark. I clutch on to the back of his shirt, and his hand slowly brushes my hair in a calming manner.

“Shh, baby. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.” His soothing voice brings me a feeling of safety.

I step back a little but remain entwined with him.

“You don’t understand, Brady. I have to tell you something, and I’m pretty sure, after I do, you’ll want me to leave,” I confess. After I take a deep breath, my teeth nail my bottom lip down.

“Come have coffee, and we’ll talk.” Brady is silent while he heads to the kitchen. After he pours two cups of coffee, he turns back around. “I’m afraid we’ll be interrupted if we stay in the kitchen.”

He heads down the stairs to the studio, and I follow.

I take a seat in one of the brown leather chairs, but Brady stands in front of me with his hand out.

“What?” I ask.

“I want you by me. Whatever you have to tell me, I want to be able to touch you and reassure you that nothing is going to change for me.”

I put my hand in his, and he leads me to the couch. Stretching my legs over his thighs, he stares at me, and I know that it’s time. I can’t hide from my past any longer.

“This morning, when I woke up…I thought you were done with me, that you wanted me to leave.” I keep my head down, so he doesn’t notice my tear-streaked face.

“Last night was,” he starts to speak before he takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair, “complicated.” He sips his coffee and then picks up his head again. “It took all my willpower not to stay next to you last night, but that doesn’t mean I wanted you to sneak out of my house this morning.”

“Brady, you don’t know me.” I shake my head back and forth, staring down at my coffee cup.

“Let’s get something straight. There might be things in your past I don’t know. Hell, there might even be things in the present that I don’t know about you.” He pauses, and his brown eyes stare right at me. “But I know you, Sadie,” he slowly says.

“Well…” I inhale another deep breath. I feel like I’m in the middle of a yoga class with how many times I’ve sucked air into my lungs over the past fifteen minutes.

“You know, you don’t have to tell me yet, Sadie. One day, sure, when you are ready, but it doesn’t matter to me.” He rubs circles over my shin.

“Brady, I need you to know. This morning, I realized something, and as much as it will kill me if you decide you don’t want this, I have to tell you,” I say quietly, gaining my composure. “I’m not a virgin.”

Brady’s laugh fills the room. “I never thought you were a virgin. Is that what this is about?”

“You have been so gentle, never pushing me further than I wanted to go.” I bring my knees up to my chest, suddenly embarrassed.

“Sadie, I can tell something is holding you back, and I want you to be comfortable,” he reassures me. He scoots over to me, moving my legs back down across his lap.

“My past is bad, Brady. I’ve been with a lot of guys.” I throw it out there fast with the hope that maybe he won’t notice that I just called myself a slut.

“Okay.” His voice doesn’t flinch.

I don’t hear or see a hint of disapproval, and he isn’t backing away from me.

“I mean a lot, Brady. I don’t remember all their names or most of the experiences because I was usually so wasted. I would wake up in a guy’s bed, not remembering. Most of the time, they were gone long before I woke up.” My eyes stare at the dark liquid in my hand, not able to see the disapproval in Brady’s eyes, while I tell him what I’m sure boyfriends fear hearing from their girlfriends.

“Okay,” he says again, as though I just told him I prefer white bread to wheat.

“Don’t you have anything else to say?” I finally let my eyes fall on him.

He stares right back at me, continuing to massage my calves, seemingly unaffected.

“Not really. It doesn’t bother me as long as I’m the only one you sleep with now.” He raises his eyebrows, questioning me.

“You are. I haven’t been with anyone for eight months,” I say, rushing out the truth.

“I assume you’re worried, if you sleep with me, I’m going to toss you out the next morning?” he asks the question in such a matter-of-fact manner.

And it scares me.

“Yeah,” I mumble.

“You thought I left you this morning, hoping you would sneak out so that I wouldn’t have to see you?”

His questions involve my biggest fears, as though he knows my every thought.

I nod.

“Sadie, when you’re finally ready to sleep with me, I promise you that I won’t leave your side the whole night. I’ll hold you close to me, and when you wake up in the morning, it will be my face smiling back at you. We’ll have breakfast and shower—hopefully, together.” He winks over at me. “Then, we’ll spend the day together. I hope like hell it continues like that day after day. I dream of a time when you are in my bed every night and every morning.” He sets his coffee cup on the table, bringing me completely onto his lap. “I promise you, Sadie Miller, I’ll never leave your side for as long as you’ll have me.” He kisses me, firm and soothing.

“You are really okay with it? I know it’s a lot to handle. I regret that part of my life every day, but I was in a dark place. I held myself captive in self-inflicted pain.” I rest my head on his shoulder.

“I have to admit, the thought of another guy’s hands on you pisses me off, but that is just selfishness on my part. As long as I’m the only guy who makes you quiver by touching you”—his hand grazes along my leg—“the only guy who can kiss those soft red lips whenever I want”—he brushes his thumb over my bottom lip—“the only guy allowed to climb on top of you or wrap those gorgeous legs around my waist and have my way with you time and time again, that’s all that matters.” Brady positions me so that I’m straddling him.

“You are, Brady. You are the only guy in my life—present and future. Thank you for understanding.” I bring my arms around his neck while his hands smoothly caress my hips.

“I need an answer to one question though, Sadie.” He stares at me with those caramel eyes.

“Of course. Anything.”

“Who is Theo?”

My stomach drops.

I purposely left that part out. I’m not ready to relive the story of that awful night when I became half of a person. When I was to blame for someone dying—someone who had been with me my whole life, who was my other half, my confidant—leaving me alone and abandoned.

I know I have to be honest, so I say the only thing I can without tears pouring out of my wounded eyes, “Theo…was my twin brother.”