Page 17

I should go back; the cold wind is biting my exposed skin. I am utterly insane for following laughter out into these dense woods. I snap my head around, and the darkness has now completely taken over. The laughter returns—Naomi’s laugh this time, I realize—and I have no idea where to go from there. With the moon now behind a cloud, the direction back to the cabin isn’t clear. Panic settles into my chest as I realize I’m lost.

Naomi’s laughter echoes in my ears, mocking and relentless. My despair is humorous to her and has been since the moment we met. I remember that moment with her and Micah in the woods, the moment I stole from her.

It sickens me to think that there might be some unresolved emotions between them. What if she comes back for him?

A tiny whimper escapes me as I hunch down and sit in the snow, placing my head in my hands as tears flow from my eyes. I try to scream out for Micah, but no words—no sounds—come out of me.

Another shadow… another dark hood snaps me out of my thoughts.

A gray one shimmers in the night, but this time, the tension in my body immediately ceases.

“Maison,” I whisper, knowing how crazy I sound, but I’ve been waiting for this moment to see him again. He’s the real reason I came out here. I knew he’d appear to me. In the darkest part of my mind, that hallucinogenic part of my brain is so soothing. These visions have happened over the past few weeks, and I figured the isolation must be getting to me. I haven’t told Micah, although I wonder if he sees him, too.

The easier twin.

Maison peers over me, his cute, crooked smile instantly putting me at ease. I reach up to touch him. He isn’t too far away from me, only a few short feet, and he could be mine.

I sit in the snow and peer up at him. “Maison,” I call out to him again.

“London… what are you doing?”

His eyebrows pinch together in a very un-Maison-like manner. It’s the brooding face I love so much. I blink at him a few times and realize it is Micah. I’m not dreaming, and I’m cold, very, very cold.

I snap back to reality. What the fuck am I doing?

He kneels in front of me, his face as stone cold as the snow surrounding us, but his hands still so warm. “It’s me, baby, it’s Micah.”

I blow out a breath. It’s Micah. Of course, it’s Micah.

“Micah…” I whisper his name as I gather myself, still confused about which twin I’m seeing.

Maison is fucking dead, London. Pull it together.

He pulls me out of the snow, and I lean into his warm arms and finally start shivering, as if my body only now registers how fucking cold it is outside. My fingers are blue, and I have no sensation in them. I touch his face, cupping his cheek, running my finger over the face I’ve now memorized.

He isn’t cold; he’s so warm, concerned, and perfect. What is wrong with me?

“Micah, I’m sorry…”

“Fucking hell, London.” He immediately grabs my hands in an attempt to warm me with his body heat. He pulls my hands to his lips. “You’re frozen, baby. You could have died out here.” He glides his hands over my entire body, making sure I’m not broken. His eyes are wild, panicked and scared in a way I’ve never seen before. I can’t respond; my teeth are chattering too hard, and my body is shaking. I am fully conscious now, and the laughter is gone.

And I just called him Maison. This won’t be good.

Finally, I find my voice. “Micah, I didn’t mean to leave. I thought…” I have to explain myself. Explain why I would leave the cabin at night like that, why I would leave him. I can’t find the words. I don’t know what I thought.

“Let’s get you home, baby,” he says without any anger in his voice.

Baby. Why does he have to call me that? It reminds me so much of Maison.

He carries me back to the cabin, but I keep my eyes planted on the space where I was sitting. My eyes catch onto something in the woods a short distance away, something I can’t seem to rip my gaze from. Something that makes my skin crawl… like a million tiny insects scuttling all over me. Something that terrifies me to the core.

I close my eyes and drown it out, hoping what I saw was nothing but a trick of the light and more of my hallucinations.

Once back in the cabin, Micah places me on the bed, rubbing his hands over each finger to warm them first. Then he takes off my snow-covered sweater and the tank top I’m wearing beneath until I am naked. He stokes the fire and crawls in with me, warming me with his hands. Skin-to-skin contact is best for warming, or so he says. Eventually, he takes off his sweater, and I lay my head on his bare, muscled chest.

After a few minutes, and as my body begins to defrost, he finally whispers, “Are you going to explain yourself?”

I turn my head away from him. I don’t want him to see the guilt riddled on my face. “I… I heard something.”