Page 10 of Lifeline

“Yeah, still not ready for you to remind me you know me,” he said with a shrug and a little laugh. Him and laughter were as close as Reno and I were. He’d once told me there were times in life where you had two choices: lose your shit, or laugh, and he preferred to laugh. “Let’s stick to pretending we barely know one another, ignore that it feels weird as fuck, and privately handle our shit.”

Huh, gone were the days when he would insist on talking about what was hanging between us, or promising me that one day soon we were going to talk about things. The fiery temper he had sometimes barely contained was gone, and in its place was a man with an awkward smile, eyes that were trying to not meet mine, and between us, was not just the awkwardness of knowing one another but also the years we’d spent apart.

“That’s probably for the best,” I told him, holding up the folder. “Thank you for this.”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Not really a lot for me to do right now. Xander gets this look in his eyes whenever I talk about what’s supposed to be my job. The look that tells me I should shut up and walk away. So I’ve been coming up with stuff and mostly hanging out with Cait. She’s…a delight.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised you two get along,” I said, and then realized I had just violated our agreement. “Right, so⁠—”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m on dinner duty tonight, so I should probably go see what I have to work with.”

“See you at dinner then,” I said, and he nodded, looked as though he was going to say something, and then, turning on his heel, he walked away.

“Right,” I said quietly and closed the door, shaking my head and looking over the log sheets. They weren’t in order, because of course they weren’t; Trevor had his own system and only ‘translated’ them when he had to submit them officially. “Reno? I’m going up.”

I didn’t wait for his response as I walked to the utility room at the back of the building and yanked down the ladder to the roof’s hatch and pushed it open. I was struck by a beam of sunlight, reaching onto the ledge beside the ladder to grab the toolbox before stepping out onto the roof to make my way over to the sensors. I had just opened the panel on one of them before the inevitable happened.

The hatch opened, Reno’s head poked up, and he leaned his arms on the roof. “So, uh, what the ever-living shit did you do to that man?”

“You can see I’m busy, right?” I asked him as I inspected the panel.

“Busy trying to avoid what just happened, sure. Because you totally don’t like to throw yourself into work when something is bugging you. And don’t you dare say the only thing bugging you right now is me; that’s not going to work.”

“No, this is bugging me too,” I said as I examined the circuits with an annoyed click of my tongue.

“You didn’t tell him about me,” Reno said, and I closed my eyes as guilt bubbled up in my chest.

“Don’t turn this into me being ashamed of you,” I warned him with a grunt.

“Wasn’t going to,” he said. “Mostly. I’m guessing this was when you were on the other side of the country in Port Dale?”

I twitched. “Yes. We were nineteen.”

“Until?”

“Almost twenty-one. He was anyway.”

“Two years?”

“Just about.”

Reno gave a whistle. “And it was serious?”

I frowned. “I’m not shy about sleeping with people when I want to get off, but you know damn well that when it comes to relationships, I don’t ‘casually’ date anyone. Especially for that long.”

“So you were serious for two years and never told him about me?” he asked in confusion. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Mika, I know you can be a closed book, especially back then, but that’s crazy. He didn’t even know we were identical!”

“I know,” I said with a sigh.

“Now I have to wonder how you could even call that relationship serious when he didn’t know a basic fact like that,” he said, and I heard him climbing onto the roof to join me. “And you know what? I am a little offended that you decided not to tell him about me. Jesus, Mika, I’m your fucking brother, your twin brother. That’s just wrong.”

It was said lightly, but I knew he was serious, and I rubbed my temple. “I know. We met…right after Mom, and I just⁠—”

I just what? I was the product of a father who had taken off when Reno and I had been six, and occasionally came back when he felt he wanted to play family man for a while before he realized it wasn’t as fun as being single and childless. And a mother who had struggled financially, mentally, and emotionally. Our mom had loved us; we had known that, but she…well, she hadn’t been the best of mothers. Too many times it felt like we weren’t her children, but her best friends; or her emotional punching bags, the reason her life had gone to hell, and then her only reason for living.

Maybe one day we might have been able to find some sort of equilibrium with her, maybe even nudge her toward getting the help she needed. Except, the minute I had the chance, I’d left home, eager to be something other than what she had made us, eager to be something that was completely mine. Reno had left, though with more reluctance than I had; him to the west coast, me to the east coast, and our mother, left alone in the Midwest.

“I wanted to…not be who I was,” I said with a sigh. “Eighteen years of⁠—”