“I didn’t mean to ambush you. I’m sure I’m the last person you want to see right now,” he rumbles. “I’ve been turning this over in my head for days, how this was going to go. I wasn’t even sure I would come. But I honestly didn’t know how I couldn’t. I mean, this isn’t how I’d pictured things going between us.”

He’s rambling. Somehow, in all this fucked-up craziness, Ransom’s rambling breaks through the mental block I’ve been trying to build since the confrontation between me, him, and his brother at their apartment better than a pick through ice. I find myself amused by this, a faint smile growing on my lips as he continues on.

“Caring about someone is supposed to be simple. Simple is good. I like simple. But this—” he motions a finger between us “—is the farthest thing from simple you can get.”

I nod, because, yeah, I know. Who knows better than me? I’m the girl standing between two brothers. I’m the girl who’s wrecking lives. I’m that girl I enjoy watching on reality television.

The smile slips. My life has fallen to shit and I don’t know how the hell I managed to get here, but I can tell you now, it was an honest mistake. How in the hell was I supposed to know there were two of them? People talk about having doppelgangers, evil twins, what-have-you, but who really puts stock into it?

“I mean, I should have known something was going on, right? I should have sensed something was off.” Ransom is gesticulating all over the place and I have a feeling I know where this is headed.

I cut him off, unwilling to go down that road tonight. “I’m going to stop you there,” I say, holding up my hand. Catching him mid-sentence, he pauses, his mouth frozen open. “I’ve been on my feet all night. I’m tired and hungry and I’m not in the mood to hash this out with you right now.”

“That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?” Ransom questions. His agitated tone sets me on edge. “When will you be ready to talk about it, Josephine? Because from where I’m standing, you’re the one holding all the answers. I’m just trying to figure out how the hell this all happened.”

I. Am. Floored. A laugh bubbles up from my throat, sounding warped, even to my ears. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not the only one trying to figure this out. How do you think it feels to be me?” I demand, growing angrier by the second. This is exactly why I wanted to avoid this.

“I’ve been fucking around with two men, and I couldn’t even tell the difference!” I shout, angry at myself, him, Rebel. Everyone. “Talk about humiliation. I’m just trying to figure out which one of you was in on it. Or maybe both of you were. Maybe,” I say, my voice growing too loud, “you two planned this whole thing. Seduce some naïve college girl, make her fall in love with you, then rip the rug right out from under her. Surprise! We’re goddamned twins!”

Ransom’s frown creates deep grooves between his eyebrows. If I didn’t know better, I’d guess he was confused, maybe even a little bewildered by my accusation. Well, I couldn’t care less. He claims he’s been thinking? Well, so have I, bucko.

Spinning around, I jam my key into the lock and shove the door open. Never releasing my grip on it, I turn to slam the door in his face, but Ransom is suddenly there, reaching out to block my effort.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he growls, slapping his hand against the door and shoving it and me back. “You don’t get to just walk away from this.”

Just the fact that he did that—said that—sends my anger spiraling out of control. Who is he to decide what I get to do? I have had it! Had it with him. Had it with his brother. Had it with men who think they have some kind of claim over me. My peace of mind has been shattered and I feel like everything in my life has gone out of control.

“Get out of my home,” I growl. My fists are balled at my sides and I feel on edge. I feel violent. How dare he act like he can just come into my home and call the shots? Before I end up doing something that’ll land me in jail, I force myself to walk away.

Apparently, Ransom doesn’t understand the meaning of get out because he follows me into the kitchen. Fuck this. I need a drink if I’m going to have to deal with him.

I take a beer from the fridge. With my back to him, I pop the cap and gulp down half its contents before taking a breath. I don’t offer him one, and that small act of rebellion feels like some kind of victory. At this point, I’ll take ‘em where I can get ‘em.

Ransom is deadly quiet, but I know he’s behind me. I know he’s watching me. How do I know this? Because I can feel him. I feel his eyes on the back of my head, probably judging me, or pitying me. It’s what people like him, all proper and respectable, do.

“Do you have a death wish?” I snarl.

Taking me by surprise, his chest presses against my back and the heat pouring off him is everywhere. It wraps around me like a cozy blanket. I jump, but then my body betrays me. The tension in my shoulders eases instantly, and I feel the urge to sigh into him. But I don’t. I tense up instead, getting ahold of myself and forcing my body and mind to resist that inexplicable pull he has over me.

Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe it’s Rebel who does that. How am I to know?

His heavy hands cover my shoulders, his fingers pressing in lightly. I stay strong, unbending, until the moment Ransom rests his chin on my shoulder and his low, throaty voice fills my ear. “I’m sorry.”

It’s over. Two words. Embarrassing, but that’s all it takes. All the oxygen in my lungs leaves me in a rush taking with it my will to fight, and then I am leaning into his embrace.

His hot hands glide down my arms and when they find mine, he threads our fingers together. I’ve missed this. The intimacy. It feels like I’ve gone forever without it.

Until him, maybe even until I met Rebel, I never craved this. I never craved a connection with another human being. I thrived on being alone, on being my own person, making my own rules. It was a very selfish existence, and I liked it. The only time I hooked up with anyone was when it felt good and was convenient for me.

Then Rebel came along.

It started out as a mutual understanding. We scratched an itch for each other, and we had fun doing it. Knowing nothing about each other made that arrangement easy. Then I met Ransom, thinking he was Rebel, and the boundaries we’d set began to fade. The more I learned about Ransom, the more time I spent with him, the more I grew attached. I didn’t know then that the time I was spending with Rebel in the hotel room was separate from the time I was spending with Ransom alone in my apartment.

Turns out, while I was fucking Rebel, I was forging a bond with his brother, Ransom. Without intending to, I had spread that connection to both men. Not knowing they were twins was what caused this problem. I can’t divide my feelings when I don’t know who they belong to.

Right now, I am torn between being distraught and angry. Logically, I know it’s no one’s fault. None of us could have known the extent of our involvement together. It’s not something anyone considers. I never thought to ask myself, hey, what if he has an identical twin? Although, if I had, I could have avoided this entire situation.

Now, as I stand here in Ransom’s arms, I feel more confused than ever. It’s like I’m cheating on Rebel by being here with Ransom, but that’s ludicrous. I’m not with either one of them.

Ransom’s words say otherwise. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop to think about how this was affecting you, Joe. None of it is your fault. Of course, it’s not. I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around my girlfriend dating my brother.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was.” The comment is meant to address both being his girlfriend and dating his brother. The moment I walked out of their apartment, those relationships were severed. Or so I thought. I heave a defeated sigh.