Stefan
Veronica leaped out of the car after Charlie, hugging first her sister, then Stephen. He said something to her, but I didn’t hear it. From the look on her face, it was a reproach. Good.
Robyn took Veronica’s hand, and they went into the house. But just before they were out of sight, I noticed the look Robyn threw over her shoulder at Stephen. There was something strange about it. Something unexpected.
“Where did Stephen take you?” Veronica asked.
I didn’t hear Robyn’s response as they disappeared ahead of us, but I did study my brother, saw how his eyes followed them, how they narrowed as they tracked Robyn.
“She’s a little young, isn’t she?” I asked, meaning it to be a joke but realizing he took it as more of a taunt the moment I saw his face.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Just that she’s young. Sixteen, right?”
“So first you accuse me of being-what was the word you used? Cozy? Yes, cozy with Veronica, and now it’s something else with her sister?”
I grinned. “I thought you’d be better at masking your emotions by now, brother.”
“Fuck you, Stefan.”
“What is happening to the clergy these days?” I said, walking into the house and toward the kitchen, stopping at the door. “Are you coming? You wanted to work on the chapel. I mean, it’s why you’re here, right? There’s no other reason.”
Stephen’s face grew red, and he fisted his hands at his sides. But he kept his mouth shut. We grabbed some bottles of water, left through the back door, and headed to the chapel. We walked over a mile in silence. I didn’t care. Didn’t give a single fuck. I’d hit a nerve, which with my twin was almost impossible to do.
Stephen and I worked in silence for the first few hours, and the more time that passed, the more I thought about how he’d taken my comment. About how if there were some truth behind it, it would have heavy consequences for my brother.
I glanced over at him. He’d taken off his shirt and was lifting broken blocks of stone to carry outside.
“Stephen,” I said, wiping my forehead with my discarded shirt. “It’s hot. We should take a break.”
“You go if you need to. I need to keep working.”
“Why? It’s been sitting like this for years. Now you’re in a rush?”
“I just need to work, Stefan. Go back to the house. I don’t need you here.”
He didn’t look at me once while he worked. I leaned against the wall and drank from my bottle of water, which was warm by now.
“Tell me what happened,” I said.
He stopped, his back tensing either from my question or the weight of the stone he carried.
“Nothing,” he said with a glance over his shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He walked out of the church, and I heard the stone crash against the pile we’d already made.
I chuckled. For all his talk, my brother needed help being honest with himself.
“Well, if you don’t know what I’m talking about, how can it be nothing?” I asked when he returned, taking another sip of water. “Warm as piss.”
He stopped, his eyes darkening. “You’re in a church. Watch your mouth.”
I held up both hands in mock surrender. “Didn’t know you cared that much, considering.”
“What the fuck is your problem?” he asked, suddenly in my face.
“Whoa, brother. Who’s got to watch his mouth now?”
“If you’re trying to goad me into a fight-”
“I’m just asking you a question,” I said, leaning into his space. We were equal in height and similar in build. I hadn’t fought him since he was a kid. I would if had to. Hell, maybe it’d feel good.
“Well, don’t.”
“You’re my brother. I’m just watching out for you.”
He gritted his teeth. “I don’t need watching. And I never asked you to protect me. Not once. You just did it. You took it.”
“What the fuck are you talking-”
He swung his fist so fast, I almost didn’t see it coming. But prison had perfected my fighting skills. I caught his arm, stopping the collision with my face.
“I said watch your mouth. You’re in a holy place!”
“Does a holy man have any business looking at a sixteen-year-old girl?”
Stephen’s hand closed around my throat, and he shoved me hard against the church wall. I chuckled. “Where’d you learn that move? They teach you to fight in that seminary?”
“Stop.”
“What, Stephen? Am I getting under your skin?”
“I saw your fingerprints around Veronica’s throat, brother.”
My mouth turned into a hard line, and this time, it was Stephen who grinned.
“What is she, half your size? Learn that from dad after all?”
My breathing came tight, my chest heaving with each breath. I guess he knew how to get under my skin too.
“What’s the matter? Too much truth for you?” he asked.
Fuck. He sounded like me. Exactly like me.
I shoved his arm off me and knocked my fist into his jaw. Stephen stumbled backward, almost tripping into a pew, but righted himself fast and came at me, arm raised to strike me back.
“Yeah, that’s better. Hit me. I can take it, and I can give it back. You don’t fucking hit someone half your fucking size,” he said, his fist colliding with the side of my face.
I shoved him backward, this time smashing him into the wall and grabbing him by the throat. “I don’t fucking hit her. I’ve never fucking hit her. I would never-”
“And those bruises, did she put them there herself?”
I drew my arm back again, so angry, so fucking angry all I saw was red. Stephen’s eyes moved over my shoulder. I hadn’t even heard her come, but all of a sudden, Veronica’s hands wrapped around my arm, and she used all her weight to keep me from knocking Stephen out.
“Stop!” she cried out. “What are you doing?”
“Tell him I don’t hit you.”
“What?”
“Fucking tell him.”
“Get off him, Stefan!”
“Get away, Veronica!” Stephen ordered.
He’d managed to pull my arm off his throat.
“You’ll get hurt.”
“No,” she said pulling me back, forcing me away from my brother.
“Tell him,” I said, my gaze still locked on Stephen, his on mine.
“He doesn’t hit me. He hasn’t hit me once, Stephen. Not once.”
Stephen turned to her, his eyes searching her face, maybe trying to make out if she was lying.
“I swear, Stephen. Stefan won’t hurt me.”
She shoved herself between us, standing in front of me as if she would protect me.
“The bruises on your neck,” Stephen said.
“Something else. I promise, okay?”
Stephen looked at the floor, then ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. His face when he looked at me showed only confusion.
“Let’s go back. Maria has dinner almost ready,” Veronica said, taking my hand in one of hers and reaching out to take his.
Stephen shook his head. “You two go.” He took another step back, his gaze landing on the altar.
“Veronica,” I said, watching him as I spoke. “Wait for me outside. I’ll be right there.”
She hesitated.
“Go. No more fighting.”
She nodded and gave us both a weighted look before walking out of the chapel.
“I’m sorry,” I said, stepping toward Stephen. “You’re right. I was trying to goad you. I don’t even know why.”
He rubbed his hand over his mouth, his face, and shook his head. “I’m sorry too. I don’t know what came over me. I’m not…”
“It’s my fault. Just forget it. If you need to talk-”
“I need some time alone.”
I nodded and walked toward the door. “You coming for dinner?”
He walked to the front pew and sat down. “Go ahead. I’ll be there later.”
As much as I wanted to go to him, to force him to talk to me, I made my legs carry me in the other direction and walked over to Veronica, who stood waiting on the church steps, her eyes wide with worry.
“Let’s go,” I said.
“What happened?”
“Later.” I took her hand, and we headed toward the house. I felt grateful nighttime would hide my face, because Stephen was right to worry about Veronica. And he didn’t even know the whole story. Didn’t know what was still to come. And I hated myself a little more for it every day.