White-hot searing pain followed by a euphoric rush and the instant crush of extreme relief soothes and calms the war raging within me. I don’t want the pain…I need it. For long moments, I sit quietly, enjoying the seconds of peace and serenity surrounding that first initial piercing of skin. Each rip of flesh eases the fear, the anxiety, the sheer loathing I have toward myself and the world around me. A world that he is no longer a part of.

I dig the blade deeper, requiring more…searching for something that I can never find.

It works for a while. Small moments. The only beauty I have to look forward to anymore. Memories of happier times cascade through my mind like a pinwheel spinning in a gust of wind.

Running through the woods, him hot on my heels, me squealing in delight.

I press the razor blade deeper. More pain.

Him shunning the mean, popular girls who picked on me in school.

Shivers ripple through every nerve ending with each new blessed slice.

Movies. So many movies. Every Sunday, sharing a bowl of popcorn, laughing at the same parts as the images on the screen flickered by.

My mouth waters as sourness hits my tongue. Acid curls and burns inside my gut.

Nights long ago, cuddled up with one another as if the entire world had disappeared and there was only the two of us.

I dip my head back against the wall, close my eyes, and allow the full-body flush of heat and adrenaline to fire its way through my system as I flick my wrist, until I feel something…anything.

For me, pain is the only acceptable substitute for love and loss.

Once the blood drips and pools down around my forearm, congealing into thick, maroonish globs, I glance around, blinking away the regret and tears. I’ve finished this session and huddle in the corner where the tub and wall meet. My toes are freezing, curled in, pressed against the cold tile I’m sitting on. I sigh, my stomach rolling with nausea as the self-deprecation and disgust weave into my mind.

Hannon wouldn’t approve.

He didn’t approve back when we were kids when he caught me doing it at sixteen. He most certainly wouldn’t now in my midtwenties. Except it doesn’t matter, because he’s not here to scold me.

To hold me.

To love me.

To save me.

A dry laugh leaves my lungs as I stand, trembling and leaning against the vanity for purchase. My newest cut throbs and aches, the two-inch-long line marred with slowly drying blood. I didn’t go too far this time. Not as far as I wanted to go.

Coward.

The single word wreaks havoc on my psyche, taunting and prodding the loser within. I furl my fingers around the razor blade, wondering if I could just do it. End it all. No one would miss me. Certainly not my parents or the high-society brats who call me friend when I know we’re anything but. Those gold-diggers use up everyone in their path until there’s nothing left. They are friends by status alone, not by choice.

A sob tears through my chest as I think once again about how much Hannon would detest what I’ve done, what I’ve become in his absence. I snarl and growl at my image in the mirror.

“You want me to stop, Han, come back and make me!” I smack the counter hard, dropping the razor blade. It falls, clinking its way into the sink, where drops of blood smear along the white ceramic surface.

No response. Not even a flicker. There’s only my reflection in the mirror, and what a sad sight that is. Blonde hair, almost white for how light it is, long and unruly beachy waves I’ve done nothing with. My eyes are two hollow ovals, gray and lifeless. Suits my mood. Chapped, dry lips I used to think were pretty curve into two bows meeting in the middle. I used to be pretty. Now I’m just here. Walking through each day, wishing I could be wherever he is.

The ache to be near Hannon hammers against my heart, like it always does, a nagging beat I can’t escape. Turning on the faucet, I wash away the blood and rinse the new cut, noticing the others near it are fading nicely. The henna art covers them well, much to my parents’ displeasure. Another reason to keep using the earthy dye to cover my sins. I’ll have to reapply to make this newest mark disappear, but that will be easy enough. Still, the new mark doesn’t take away the urge to flee, to run, to be close to him.

With a speed I’m used to after one of my “sessions,” I fly into my bedroom, pull a hoodie from my closet, and throw it on, the icy claws of despair prodding my haste, aiding every movement. I step into my tennis shoes, the laces already tied, and am out the door. Once I reach the hallway, I tiptoe my way down the stairs that lead to the grand, main entrance of my parents’ mansion. The black and white marble floors have been shined to perfection, nary a speck of dirt to be found. Mrs. Judith Gannon-Carmichael would never stand for anything less.

I hear loud voices, swollen with pompous righteousness, as they echo through the receiving room off the entryway. The door is open, so I do my best to slither along the opposite wall, hiding in the shadows in the hope I can get to the kitchen and off to the garage without being detected. Mother would look down upon my casual attire and be horrified in front of her friends, many of whom she and my father are currently entertaining.

The sounds of haughty laughter and clinking glasses echo through the open door as I skate by the evening gathering without notice. Thank goodness for small favors. If my luck sticks, Sean will also be home tonight. The last couple times I escaped to his house, he wasn’t altogether welcoming. Loving, yes. Welcoming, no. There’s been a hint of frustration in his demeanor when he’s spoken to me recently and an overall weird sensation that I can’t quite pinpoint when I visit. Regardless, I need to be there right now. Nowhere else will do. Not tonight, when I’m raw and twitchy.

Making it to the gigantic garage, so large it could double as a football field, I pass by an endless array of my father’s obsession: cars. From classic American brands to European sports cars, my father has it all. With enough money to buy Queen Elizabeth out of her position in Buckingham Palace, he can afford the best, and he proves it in every shiny, new purchase.

I hop into my black, somewhat modest Mercedes S-Class coupe, probably the cheapest car in the entire garage and still considered luxury. For one full minute, I sit and just breathe, attempting to calm the swirling devastation that threatens to swallow me whole.

Just a little longer and you’ll be closer to him, I remind myself until I hear his voice. Like in a dream or a memory that’s just too hard to grasp.

Hold on, Bunny. Be still…find your peace.

Hannon’s voice is a whisper over my senses. Those were the last words he ever said to me. My heart tightens as if being held in his strong hands.

For you, I will, Han. I promise.

I smash the button for door number six. The moment the heavy metal door rises high enough for my ride to fit under it, I shoot out into the bleak darkness of the night. I’ve taken this drive many times over the last two years, and each and every trip feels as if I’m driving toward heaven, only to remember once more I’m living in utter hell.

The miles fly by, my thoughts a mixture of memories and the crawling, aching desperation within me.

I take the steps two at a time at the front of the bright blue and white row house in downtown San Francisco. The Bay Area wind bites at my back as I ring the bell several times in quick succession. The lights are on in the living room, so I know he’s here. He just has to be. If not, I’m going to use the emergency key Hannon gave me years ago. I haven’t had to use it recently. I’ve tried to stay away, knowing each time becomes harder than the last. For both of us.

The door opens, and a tall man I don’t recognize stands in the doorway. The warm tones of the light inside cast his face in shadow, but I can see he’s attractive, lean, and a nice dresser based on the slacks and cashmere sweater he’s wearing. On his nose is a pair of tortoise shell, square-shaped glasses.

“Hello. Can I help you?” His voice is as genuine and lovely as his corresponding smile.

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry as the Mohave Desert. Tears threaten at the back of my eyes. What’s going on? Who is this man? Why is he here at this late hour?

“Who is it, love?” Sean calls out from farther in the house.

Love.

A word often used as a term of endearment. A term that’s being used by Sean and directed at the nice-looking, late twenty- or early thirty-something man standing in front of me, currently wearing an assessing expression.

“A darling blonde with big doe eyes and a sad smile,” he calls back. He tips his head to the side. “You lost, sweetie? Do you need help?” the man asks as I stare mutely.

Incapable of speech, I stand there like the lost little girl he thinks I am. I damn near feel that way until suddenly Sean puts an arm around the man’s waist and nudges him aside to see who’s at the door. The instant his eyes meet mine, his laughing smile turns into a frown. I hate it instantly. He used to look at me with laughter and joy.

“Honor.” He says my name low and deep, as if it is a plague brought down upon his house. In front of me is not the same man who used to pull me in for long hugs and intense conversations about the world and, most importantly, sharing how much we both loved my brother.

I shake my head and place my hand over my mouth, a fresh bout of unease and loathing streaking up my spine. “No,” I whisper.

He inhales visibly, his chest lifting up and going back down as if he is preparing to give one of his patients bad news.

Sean pushes past the man standing at his side, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me into the house. The man behind us shuts the door, keeping out the chill. All of a sudden, I feel too hot in my jeans and hoodie—scaldingly so.

Sean cups both of my cheeks and stares into my eyes. “Honor, it’s good to see you. But honey, it’s very late, and you didn’t call first.” A shiver ripples through me, and he continues dropping his arms to his sides. “I’m sorry if what you are seeing surprises you. I wanted to tell you first.”

I choke out a sob, the next words leaving my mouth agonized. “When? How long?”

Sean clenches his teeth, making his jaw look even more chiseled and fierce. “A few months. I couldn’t keep him away from the house any longer. It’s not fair to him or to me. Hannon wouldn’t want that.”

The mere mention of Hannon sears through me. The session earlier was nothing compared to the pain whipping through me, wanting to burst free as Sean locks his arms around me.

I can’t stop the trembling, which starts at my teeth and flows through my insides like a bucket of snakes being poured into a small body of water.

The words leave my mouth before I can contain them. “How could you?”

His arms drop from around me, and he grasps my biceps loosely. “He’s been gone two years, Honor. You have to move on. We both have to move on. The torch you’re holding, forcing me to hold…it’s unhealthy.”

I clench my teeth. “Does he know?” I tip my head to the side, gesturing to the man standing near and listening in. “Does he know you told my brother you’d love him forever?” My voice is accusatory and scathing as I practically spit out each syllable.

Sean’s features harden, and he scowls. “And our forever was cut short!” he grits through his teeth. “No one knows that better than me.” His lips curl into an expression of disgust. “And that was Hannon’s choice. Not mine. He made that all on his own. I’ve spent long enough being alone and a year in therapy getting past his betrayal. Now it’s your turn.”

I ignore the blame game he’s playing. “You were everything to him.” I’m barely able to speak through the thick fog of emotion coating my throat.

Sean’s pretty brown eyes close as if he’s letting that soak in for a minute. His dark hair is tussled. A few paces beyond, the man who answered the door stands, not intruding but staying close. I’d probably like him if he wasn’t dating Sean. He doesn’t look like a bad guy. His face is kind and honest, though he looks nothing like my brother. This guy is geeky chic and a little reserved. Hannon was blond and blue-eyed, filled with life and joy that exuded through his pores into every person who entered his orbit.

I close my eyes, the truth dawning on me in one tragic realization. Pain. Like me, Hannon was in pain. Only he chose to hide it from the two people who mattered most. And without so much as a heart-to-heart, he went his way alone, backed up into a corner where he made the ultimate sacrifice.

Tears leak down my face, and my lips quiver as I wish he’d reached out. Just once would have been enough to talk him out of it. Every day, I love and hate him for not giving me that chance to change his mind. To be there for him the way he was always there for me.

“Honor, no man loved Hannon more than I did. For five years, we were happy. He was in the closet, unable to share in our love publicly, but I didn’t care because he was mine, and that’s all I ever wanted and needed. Until he took that choice away from me. I would have taken what your parents were going to dish out. I’d have done anything to make him happy, change the past, make him believe we could suffer it all, as long as we had one another.” Tears form in Sean’s eyes, and the man near him places a hand on his shoulder.

I close my eyes tightly, not wanting to see another man giving him comfort.

“Hannon made his choice all on his own. We had no idea what his plans were, and for the past two years we’ve suffered, and for the rest of our lives, we’re both going to suffer for it. But I’m not going to stop living.”

I lock my arms around Sean and hold him as if it’s goodbye. He returns the hug, keeping me close. He turns his head and whispers into my ear. “You are the only other person in the entire world who loved him and feels the loss as deeply as I do. As his twin sister, you have to know that better than anyone.”

And I do. Oh, how I do. The day I buried my brother was the day I buried half of my soul.

For long minutes, I hold on to Sean, knowing this has to be the last time. “Me being here is hurting you.”

His grip tightens. It’s an answer without words.

“I won’t come again.”

“Don’t say that, Honor. I couldn’t live knowing I lost you too.” His chin falls against my neck, where he places a kiss. “I love you, but you remind me of Hannon, and I need to let him go. Let him be free. You do too.”

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

“You can, and you will. Eventually, thoughts of Hannon will make you happy, not sad. That’s where I’m at. I love talking about him, thinking about him, sharing stories. And it helps. Promise me you’ll do the same. Start the process for healing.”

Healing. What’s that?

Instead of lying, I give a noncommittal nod. “I’m sorry I was mean.”

“Honor, baby girl, you’re family. Always will be. I want you in my life. I just want you to be healthy. Hell, I want to be healthy.”

On that we can agree. At least as it pertains to Sean. As my brother’s life partner, he became my family too. He is one of the only people I have left I can trust. He cares about me, not my money or what kind of status I can give him.

“Will you meet my friend? It would mean a lot to me to have your acceptance. I can’t move on until I know you’re going to be okay with it.”

Dread fills my heart, but for Sean, one of the best guys in the whole entire world, I can push aside my selfish need for him to never move on from my brother and be a true friend. I nod and step back, wiping at my wet eyes.

Sean takes a full breath, staring at me before nodding succinctly. He maneuvers us around and gestures to the tall man, whose eyes are also watery behind his glasses.

“Honor Carmichael, meet my boyfriend, Chad Schilling. Chad, this is my best friend, Honor, Hannon’s twin sister.”

Chad smiles, revealing a beautiful set of white, even teeth. He presses his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose in an endearing way before extending his hand for me to shake. I take it, and he clasps it between both of his. “Lovely meeting you, darling. Sean has told me endless stories about you and Hannon, and I just want to say, I love Sean, and I’m so sorry for the loss you both endured. I look forward to spending time with you in the future and getting to know you.”

I choke back the tears that want to spill out when I hear he’s in love with Sean. It’s a hard pill to swallow because I’d always believed that Sean and Hannon would go the distance, growing old together, the three of us being a family. Now I’m the outsider in this trio, regardless of the bittersweet sadness in Sean’s eyes right now.

No matter what, this introduction changes everything. I can no longer escape to what used to be Hannon and Sean’s house, looking for Sean to talk me through the overwhelming grief that sometimes engulfs my entire being.

“I’m sorry I stopped by unannounced. I won’t do that anymore. And it’s very nice to meet you, Chad.” I focus my attention on Sean. “I love you, Sean. I want you to be happy, and you’re right. Hannon would want you to be happy too.”

Sean rushes forward and embraces me. “I love you. Promise me you’ll get help. See someone to work through this? Promise me.”

Knowing there is no way he’s going to let me leave this house until I’ve promised, I concede. “Okay. I will.”

He pulls out his wallet and removes a card. “Call this woman. Her name is Monet Hart. She’s incredible, and I think you’ll like her a lot.”

I glance down at the white business card and nod.

---

“Honor, you seem a little lost today. Why?”

I stare out the window and watch the clouds roll by and then shrug.

Dr. Hart’s voice is gentle when she replies. “You know, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. We’ve gone through this for two months now. It’s time you were more forthcoming.”

I inhale slowly and turn my head toward the woman sitting in a chair across the room. She’s incredibly beautiful and a dead ringer for Lucy Liu, the actress. Long, cascading black hair, almond-shaped, coal-black eyes, and a long, athletic figure. She’s wearing a white blouse with a cowl neck, a beige pencil skirt, and a pair of matching Louis Vuittons that make her legs look a mile long. She looks expensive because she is. Not only is her hourly rate off the charts, the woman is a genius with getting me to spill my guts without me even realizing I’m doing it. She’s incredibly good at her job.

When I committed to Sean that I’d attend therapy, I figured why not? I had nothing to lose. My life is filled with doing what my mother forces me to do. Mostly, I attend countless charity functions so she can groom me to take on the lead role of Mrs. Carmichael, the best charitable planner there ever was. None of which I’m interested in participating in. All the events and charity work… All a smokescreen, created to make her look like a saint, when she’s anything but a good person. The only benefit is I’ll happily give any amount of money needed to a good cause. I have zero attachment to the money I have because I didn’t earn a single cent of it.

I’m a trust-fund baby. Money is something that will never disappear in my world. I’m already worth a few billion dollars, and I didn’t do a thing to get it besides being born. My parents, grandparents on both sides, and their grandparents before them were all trust-fund babies. The money keeps coming. I barely know what we own anymore.

I have an Ivy League education and a degree in business I haven’t used and have no interest in using. I’m walking through life with absolutely nothing to show for it. No goals, desires, talents, or skills to speak of. Basically…I’m nothing.

Knowing that Dr. Hart isn’t going to let me mull over my response for much longer, I admit what’s hurting me today. “It’s Hannon’s birthday.”

Unexpectedly, the doctor laughs. Loudly. The sound coming from her lips mimics ringing bells. Lovely, just like the woman doing it, though I find her laughter hurtful because she knows anything involving my dead brother guts me. Honestly, it doesn’t hurt as much as it pisses me off.

I narrow my eyes and strut over to stand near her chair. I place my hands on my hips, the ire her laughter brings burning against my flushed skin.

“Why are you laughing!” I demand on a growl.

My response only makes her laugh harder, so much that she fans her face with the yellow legal pad she keeps on her lap. “Sit down, Honor. My goodness you’re funny.”

I stomp over to the couch across from her, sit down softly as my ingrained manners require, and cross my arms over my chest. “Why?”

Dr. Hart blows out a breath of air and tucks an arm around her belly protectively. I noticed she’s been gaining weight since I started coming, but I didn’t think much of it. Now that I see her cup a section gingerly, it hits me. She’s pregnant.

“You’re pregnant!” I blurt out.

She grins. “Yes, just entering my fourth month. Did you think I was just getting a little fluffy?”

I lift my shoulders defiantly once more. “Not my business. What is my business is why you think me telling you what’s got me down today is so funny? Frankly, Dr. Hart, it hurts my feelings.”

“Honor, I’m sorry you took my laughter the wrong way, but do you even realize what you said?”

I shake my head.

“You’re sad because it’s Hannon’s birthday.”

“Yes, I know that. It’s what I told you,” I grumble.

“Did it not occur to you that, as twins, it’s your birthday too?” She blinks a few times and curves her lips into a soft smile. “Happy birthday, Honor.”

Her words smack me across the face without warning. Stupidly, I didn’t realize that it was my birthday, so focused on the fact that Hannon would have been twenty-six today, but he’s not here, so there was nothing to celebrate. We always shared our birthdays. The two of us would plan an entire day of fun just for us. No parents. Not that they ever remembered. Even Sean, when he came along, would allow us our day and celebrate the night with Hannon privately.

Tears prickle at the back of my eyes. I glance at the clock, noticing the short hand about to reach the five and the little hand the twelve. It’s just about the end of the workday. And that saddens me more as I give her more honesty. “You’re the first person today to tell me happy birthday.”

Dr. Hart leans forward and places her hand on mine where it rests over my knee. “And how does that make you feel?”

“Alone.”