Come Back to Me

My twin brother was dead.

Gone.

Deceased.

Departed.

Unalive.

No words made it sound any less horrible.

We had entered this world together, and that was the same way we wanted to leave it. Zig and Zag, as our parents had lovingly nicknamed us, were a pair, partners in crime, R&R, twin terrors, and best friends.

And now I was just Zig without my Zag. Regan, without Riley. No more R&R.

Just me.

The voices drifting up from downstairs irritated me. They meant well, my family, but I was so sick of seeing them under these circumstances. This was our third funeral in as many years, and at this point, it all just seemed like routine. We were going through the motions one was obligated to perform when family died. My role as the perpetual leading lady in all of it was to shed some tears, hug everyone who showed up, recall a few pointless memories, and then persevere. Triumph over tragedy.

Fuck that.

I was numb. My grief for my mother and then my father had taken almost everything out of me. My foundation had weakened under my mother’s death, only to crumble to dust when we lost our dad. I only made it through their deaths because Riley was by my side. He had been there leading me through it, taking charge and somehow making the two worst days of our lives a little more tolerable.

“Damn you, Riley,” I cursed, ripping one of our old soccer pictures from where it had been taped to his dresser mirror. I had to cover my mouth with the back of my hand to quiet my sobs.

We were about twelve in the picture, sitting on the front steps of the porch, laughing and covered with mud in matching soccer uniforms. Our knees were scraped up, the bandages falling off, giving thumbs up to the camera, and we couldn’t have been happier. I didn’t recall what exactly we had been laughing about since whenever we were together, we were usually up to trouble and causing hilarious chaos.

I backed away from the dresser and closed my eyes.

Hiding out in his old room was only making my grief worse. It was still decorated the same as it was when we graduated high school, complete with posters of half-naked women and questionably dressed bands. My heart was breaking looking at all his stuff. His prom pictures with his first serious girlfriend, Renee, were taped to the top of the mirror. Shot glasses he used to collect on all our family vacations were lined up on his dresser. All it was doing was forcing me to recall our younger years -our best years - together.

I struggled to repress my sobs. My teeth bit into my bottom lip so hard it was a wonder I wasn’t bleeding.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Repeat until I die.

His voice kept echoing in my head, replaying our last words to each other, which had been spoken right here. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to leave this room. It was just six days ago that he had been standing in here, laughing his fool head off at me walking in on him and a girl in a rather precarious position.

Riley was back in town to help me clean out our childhood home. After the deaths of our parents, it was time to sell it. Except he had been too distracted chasing after some tail to really be much help. Riley had been a bit of a celebrity in our hometown, so when word got out that he was back, suddenly all the women found excuses to traipse around, trying to get his attention.

Three nights in a row, he had brought a different girl back to our home, and that was my limit. Furious, I stormed upstairs and barged in, not expecting them to have gotten naked so quickly. She had screamed and left, dressing as she ran down the steps and out the front door.

“You sure know how to ruin a party, Zig,” he had laughed and nonchalantly started pulling his pants on.

Covering my scarred-for-life eyeballs with my hands, I yelled at him. “This isn’t funny, Riley! You said you were coming home to help me. Instead, you’re just whoring around!”

My brother was what girls often referred to as ‘hot.’ With his dark auburn hair, athletic build, and easy smile, I suppose he was what some would call attractive. But as my brother, he was just a jerk that was constantly getting distracted by the next piece of ass offered up to him.

I sighed and shook my head at him, much like our father used to do when addressing us. “Just go back to Boston. I don’t need you here.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to have some fun.”

“No! You’re trying to stay distracted so you don’t have to deal with the fact that Dad is really gone, and meanwhile, I’m left cleaning up everything and dealing with real life!”

He’d frowned at me, slipping his t-shirt over his head. “I’m well aware he’s dead. Just like Mom. You don’t have to keep reminding me like I’m an idiot.”

“You are an idiot.” I pouted until he came over to give me a hug. “I can’t do all this without you, okay?”

“I’ll stop bringing girls here, I promise. And you’re right, I am avoiding it a little.” He gave my forehead a quick kiss. “Let me make sure what’s-her-face gets home okay and then I’ll be back to help.”

“You don’t even know her name?”

“She told it to me. I just got sidetracked by other things.”

“Yeah, like her naked ass in the air.” I punched him in the arm when he kept laughing.

“I swear I’ll be right back.” Grabbing his keys off the nightstand, he ruffled my hair as he went past.

“Fine, whatever. Keep your pants on for once, will you?”

“Only because you asked so nicely.” He paused at the door and gave me a grin. “Don’t wait up, Zig.”

Those were his last words to me.

When he hadn’t returned home, I assumed his pants had not stayed on. It wasn’t until the next morning - very early in the morning- when the cops had come knocking on the door that I knew what had happened to him. While walking what’s-her-face to her apartment, someone had tried mugging them. My brother had refused, trying to fight the guy off, maybe not knowing he had a gun. The bullet had gone right through his heart, killing him instantly.

Nothing like that had ever happened in our town. The worst crimes the cops had to deal with were teenagers shoplifting or trying to race their cars along the straight stretch of road right outside town limits.

I felt they were woefully unprepared to deal with the case. The police had no leads and were unable to locate the girl he had been with. The only witness had been someone who overheard the scuffle from his balcony. He hadn’t seen anything. And I couldn’t provide them with a clear enough description of her to help. Based on my vague details—brown hair, thin, a little taller than me— no one at the apartment complex was able to identify her.

I clutched the photo in my hand, not caring that I was creasing it a thousand ways. I just needed to hang on to it for as long as I could. The sting of the paper digging into my skin was helping drown out all the noise from downstairs. There was a child crying, someone scolding them, followed by a deeper voice, then scolding the scolder. It was probably my cousin Ann Marie and her kid being lectured by my Uncle Rob. Her kid was a menace.

Footsteps thudded up the stairs and down the hall, stopping just outside the door. When the door creaked open, I didn’t need to turn to see who it was. There was only one person who knew I was up here.

Beth entered the room and came to stand next to me, wrapping an arm over my shoulders and pulling me to her side. My head fell onto her shoulder, and she gently played with the ends of my hair, trying to soothe me as best she could.

“You want me to kick them all out? I will, no questions asked. I took karate when I was seven, I can kick all their asses.”

Despite my crying, I managed a laugh and shook my head. “You sucked at karate.”

“Maybe, but I can scratch the hell out of some bitches.”

Sighing, I lifted my head and tried to give my best friend a smile. She had been my protector ever since we met in kindergarten. Some horrible boy had knocked me down and stolen my shoes during recess because they had hearts on the bottom of them. He said hearts were stupid so he was going to throw my shoes in the trash. When she saw me chasing after him, Beth had tripped the poor kid sending him sprawling on the concrete. All scraped up and bloodied, he had handed over my shoes while she bent his arm behind his back and made him beg for mercy.

“What do they even want? It’s not like this is a new thing for us.” My crying could not hide my bitterness. “I mean, the funeral is over, my fridge is full of weird food -”

“Your Aunt Cathy brought her disgusting oatmeal cookies again,” Beth interrupted, wrinkling her nose.

“Riley is in the… ground.” My voice broke and her arm tightened around my shoulders. “Can’t they just leave me alone to grieve him?”

“I think they’ll leave once they see you. They weren’t able to see you at the service earlier.”

True. I had hidden in one of the wings of the church, arriving just before the service began and escaping out the back when it was over. Riley would have understood. We had joked about doing that exact thing at our father’s funeral six months ago. Since the burial was private with just me, Beth, and Uncle Rob, I was able to continue to avoid people.

My goodbyes had been said the night before. Our pastor gave no argument to me being there as they set everything up, including Riley’s casket. It had been peaceful to be able to sit with him in the dimness of the sanctuary; the only noise was the pastor and funeral director arranging flowers and quietly discussing the order of events for the morning. I had talked to Riley about soccer, his stupid obsessions with professional wrestling and video games, all his horrible choices with women, and my promise that I would find whoever had done this to him.

“I’ll ask everyone to leave.” Beth stepped away from me, nodding with understanding at my silence. I reached out a hand to stop her, sighing.

“No, I’ll go down. But they only get fifteen minutes.” I straightened and smoothed a hand down my black wrap dress. “How do I look?”

Beth quirked a grin. “Your mascara is crazy psycho smudged, your face is all splotchy, and I’m a little concerned that you haven’t washed your hair in like four days.”

“Perfect, let’s go.”

Arm in arm, we descended the stairs into the family madness that had taken over my house. We were immediately greeted with stares of shock that quickly morphed into looks of sympathy and pity as they watched me try to keep my composure. One by one, I made my way through the crowd, getting hugs and apologies, and some even broke down in tears when they tried talking to me. I’m not sure if it was because they were so sad about Riley or they just felt that sorry for me.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Repeat.

Just as I thought it was over, I heard the front door open, and a cold gust of wind blew around the hem of my dress and I momentarily froze, my overworked brain panicking that it might be Stephen. If he had found me and dared show up here now, I would kill him. I’d break the framed picture on the entryway table and stab him to death with the glass. I’d gotten good at that - identifying possible weapons within my surroundings in case I needed to defend myself. One positive thing to come from that psychopath.

Gathering courage, I turned to see who dared make me carry this on even one second longer. When I saw them, my fingers dug into Beth’s arm. She hissed in pain.

“Dammit, Regan. Are you trying to draw blood? What the hell is - ” Her words died off as she looked up and saw what, or who, I was freaking out about. “Oh fuck.”

All three sets of eyes were locked on me: one set blue, one brown, and one hazel. Breathing became almost impossible as they stood and stared while my gaze flickered between them in utter disbelief.

Maleko, Joshua, and … Noah.

Noah fucking Spencer.

I must have whispered that aloud, Beth repeating the words with obvious bitterness.

“Noah fucking Spencer.”

Hands on my hips.

Someone kissing my neck.

A soft whisper in my ear.

“Do you want this, Regan? We want you.”

Every touch, every whisper, every kiss—my body remembered them like it was yesterday. So many years had been spent trying to forget, trying to push them, and that summer together from my memories. Yet, as they stood there watching me fight against those thoughts and fail, the flush that swept through me and across my face revealed exactly how little I had been able to purge.

My beautiful boys had turned into absolutely devastating men.

Noah was the first to step forward. “Reggie,” he tilted his chin in greeting and took my hand gently, moving slowly as though he was worried about startling me.

He towered over me, seeming so much taller. Bigger. He was still trim, but his muscular build was evident even under his navy suit, and as he pushed his hand through his dark brown hair, the material tightened over his broad shoulders and bicep. My eyes locked onto it, my mind fighting to push forward memories of his strong arms wrapped around me. How my body fit so perfectly to his when he’d hold me, when he’d kiss and touch me … His thumb began tracing lazy circles on the back of my hand, lulling me into stepping closer to him.

“Boys,” Beth spoke up, startling me from my stupor. “This is a surprise.”

Maleko and Joshua had apparently come to stand beside Noah while I was busy staring at him like a lovestruck moron. I yanked my hand away and anger began to slowly overtake anything I was feeling by seeing them again.

Riley’s furious curses and shouts played at full volume in my mind.

“Get the fuck away from her!”

“Riley, just let me explain -”

“I will kill you if I ever see you again! Fucking kill you!”

“Regan?” Joshua took a hesitant step in my direction.

“You left me,” I hissed.

“We never -” Mal started.

His words were stopped short as I slapped Noah so hard his head reeled. Then I ran. I ran from them, ran from the thoughts they forced on me, and most of all, I ran from my feelings for them.