Page 229 of One Wild Wish

He looked down sharply, pursed his lips. Frustrated with himself? Shutting me out? We’d yelled at each other plenty since college, me calling him a selfish bastard, him telling me to grow up and forgive him already. More recently, we’d simply turned distant, flat.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, but that wasn’t exactly true. I still spoke with our sister. Not weekly, or even monthly, but we kept in touch, and I’d do anything for her. Fighting with Melody would gut me. But resentment between twins was different. A part of my heart had hardened over the years. Like we’d been conjoined twins, hearts linked, arteries connected, our estrangement deadening the tissue.

His eyes flicked up, a hint of pleading lifting his brow. “It matters.”

That hard place in me cracked.

Gwen stayed mute, letting us do our estranged brother thing, her purse tucked under her arms like it would shield her from our strained reunion.

I hadn’t planned to unleash my anger on Finch, like I hadn’t planned to lash out at Gwen at her mother’s house. Our shared history brought out the worst in me, which meant it needed to be dealt with. No more pretending and running and writing my angst into songs. That journal had led us both here for a reason. It was time to find out why.

Relinquishing my possessive hold on Gwen, I dashed my hand through my hair. “Can Gwen get in touch with Uncle Rex tonight? For her, not for me. She has some questions about a man who came here in the late eighties, possibly her father. And if you have a moment, I’d like to talk.”

Finch was in black slacks and a gray button-down, shiny shoes to match. The consummate professional, who’d done a kickass job bringing this club back to life.

To me, he’d always be the kid who’d shared a tent with me in our back yard, his ghostly flashlight shining on the flimsy blue material as he’d terrorize me with horror stories. He would eat the broccoli off my plate and I’d eat his lamb, his suggestions to avoid staring at food we’d rather burn than touch. Finch would make our younger sister laugh when she’d cry about the braces she’d hated or skinning her knee. He’d made us lightsabers and had rolled me my first joint. Even helped me ride a skateboard when I’d given up.

I was older by five minutes, but he’d been the wiser of us, until he’d slid downhill at the end of high school. Until he’d asked me to do a brutal favor I still regretted.

Until he’d slept with Gwen.

But like with her, during this wild day, the earlier years seemed to outweigh the later mistakes. Gwen was unpacking her mother’s lost luggage, one clue at a time. Facing her demons. I was ready to deal with mine.

Finch scrubbed a hand over his beard and nodded at a round table. “Uncle Rex is here tonight, has his niece and nephew with him. I’ll ask if he can spare a minute.”

After another long glance at me, he moved through the room, stopping to shake hands with people, laugh with some, flirt with others. He worked the stretch between us and Uncle Rex’s table like a bona-fide celebrity. I might be the one with albums and fans, but here, in this jazzy room I’d always wanted to play, he was the more successful brother.

Pride snuck up on me in a fierce jab. Solid. Good. Nice to think of Finch without curling my hands into fists.

Gwen smoothed her hand down my back. “I’m glad you’ll talk with Finch. I hate seeing you guys at odds.”

I hated it, too. It was time to set things right. But the last thing I wanted to discuss with Gwen was Finch. “You told him we weren’t together.”

She snatched her hand from my back. “Why’d you tell him we are?”

She had to be kidding me. I leaned my forearm on the bar, dipped so our faces were level. “I’m sorry, Possum…was I the only one on the floor in your apartment earlier? Did you not feel me inside you? Did I not make you come? Did we not discuss how often I planned to do more of the same later?”

Her lips parted. If the music were quieter, I’d bet I’d hear her whimper. But she said, “Having sex isn’t a relationship.”

“That wasn’t sex. We made love, and you know it.”

“We said seconds—that we’d focus on our time now, not the future. Today’s the first I’ve seen you in nine years. No one in their right mind would call you my boyfriend. That goes against every relationship rule.”

“Then I must be certifiable, because when it comes to you and me, Gwen, there are no rules. We aren’t other people. The second I had my mouth on you, my cock in you , you became mine, and I became yours.”

“You leave in two days.” Her chin wobbled. I didn’t want her chin to wobble. Every minute together was valuable.

I kissed her forehead, pressed a soft one to her lips. “I’ll fly you out to visit me. I’ll come home when I can. We’ll look at a calendar and map it all out.”

“It’s not that simple. I’ve been treading water all night, trying to savor our seconds like we agreed. Not let all these emotions drown me. I want this time with you. I want….” She shook her head as though having an internal conversation. “Honestly? I have no clue what I want. And you haven’t even asked me. But you’re going on like we’re engaged.”

A notion I could sink into. Gwen was it for me. Come hell or high water, or a swarm of locusts, she would be mine. Having her once wasn’t enough. Having her for the rest of my life wouldn’t be enough. She didn’t see it. Because of our history, maybe. Our different lives now. None of it meant a damn thing.

I opened my mouth to say as much, put my heart in her hands, but Finch returned.

“Uncle Rex will chat with you.” His gaze lingered on Gwen’s taut body, every compact inch displayed in her slim jeans and tank top. The urge to punch him returned. To me, he said, “We can talk in my office.”

Gwen was up before I could reply, her purse clutched to her side as she maneuvered toward Uncle Rex, not a glance at me. I wanted to pummel Finch and yell at Gwen until she saw reason. None of it would do me a lick of good.