Fraternal: CH. 8

CHAPTER EIGHT: DOPPELGANGER

EZRA

I shut the door behind us. Asher stands there with as much strain in his face as I'm carrying in my shoulders. The room feels smaller than usual, the air thick with tension, and every bit of it radiates from the man sitting on the other side of the room.

"Elliot," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

"Let me guess? You're sorry?" His tone is sharp, cutting.

"Well, it's not like that can adequately cover what we did to you," I say, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

"It wasn't supposed to go this far," Asher adds, and I can hear the guilt threading through his voice.

Elliot stands up slowly, deliberately, and crosses the small space between us. His movements are measured, controlled—like he's been rehearsing this moment in his head.

"And here's the thing," he says, stopping just a few feet away. "I'm the one who should have figured it out. You guys might look alike, but you're two different people."

"If it means anything, half of our family can't tell us apart," Asher offers.

I elbow him in the ribs. Now is not the time for his deflection tactics.

Elliot is standing directly in front of both of us now, his gaze moving between our faces, inspecting us up close. He's searching for something—an out-of-place freckle, a different curve to our mouths, anything that might distinguish us.

"What are you doing?" Asher asks, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"You guys are damn near identical," Elliot murmurs, almost to himself.

"I thought we established that," Asher responds, sounding annoyed.

Then Elliot moves closer to Asher, who immediately shuts up. Without warning, Elliot just kisses him. It's not quick either—he commits to it, his hand coming up to cup Asher's jaw. My stomach twists watching them, a complicated knot of jealousy and something else I can't quite name.

Then Elliot pulls away and looks in my direction.

He turns and puts his back against Asher's chest. Asher instinctively wraps his arms around Elliot's waist, and for a moment they look like they belong together. After a beat, Elliot breaks himself free and walks over to me. He doesn't hesitate, doesn't give me time to prepare—he just kisses me without warning.

It's deep and promising, and when I kiss him back I taste hope and a hint of mint. My hands find his hips before I can stop myself. He pulls away too soon and takes a step back, his eyes searching mine.

"Okay, that checks out," he says, his voice quieter now.

"Help me understand what that means?" I ask, my heart still racing.

"I wanted to know who I was falling for," he says matter-of-factly, like he's commenting on the weather.

"And?" Asher asks, and I'm surprised by how much he actually seems to care.

"Not important anymore," Elliot says, his expression closing off.

"Really? Why not?"

"Because you're both incredibly great liars." The words land like a slap.

He starts to walk toward the door, and panic flares in my chest.

"Wait, you break in here, kiss both of us with some bogus reasoning, and you're just gonna bounce?" Asher sounds irate, his voice rising.

Tears well up behind my eyes, hot and unwelcome. Asher looks over and sees me. He immediately goes into overprotective mode, crossing the room in three strides. Just as Elliot opens the door, Asher pushes it shut with his palm.

"Is this what you were trying to do?" he says, pointing back at me.

The look on Elliot's face is a mixture of contempt and resignation. He's not a ruthless person, and he's trying to play one—I can see the cracks in his armor.

"Ash, just let him leave," I say, the words coming out broken and wet.

Obviously, he ignores me.

"Listen to me, you little shit. You can do whatever you want to me—I don't care—but if you want to fuck with my brother, then you're going to have to deal with me." Asher's voice is low and dangerous, protective in a way that makes my chest ache.

Elliot's expression shifts, softens slightly, but I can tell he wants to maintain his offensive posture.

"What, so you get to fuck me over, but when the tables turn, all of a sudden I'm the bad guy?" His voice cracks on the last word.

Asher doesn't have a response, and rightfully so. The silence stretches between them, heavy and damning.

He steps away from the door and walks over to me, his shoulders sagging. Elliot opens the door again and looks back one last time before he leaves. He sees the pain he caused, sees the tears streaming down my face, and part of me is certain that was never his intention. The door clicks shut behind him with a finality that echoes in my chest.

Asher sits next to me on the bed and wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. His warmth is immediate, grounding.

"It's okay, Ez. Really."

"Then why does it feel like this?" I ask, my voice muffled against his shirt.

"You really liked him," he says quietly. It's not a question.

"Ash—"

He doesn't let me finish.

"I know, Ez. We fucked up." His hand moves in slow circles on my back, the same way it did when we were kids and I'd wake up from nightmares.

"Yeah, we did."

"I hope you know if we were even remotely in the right, I would've beat the snot out of him." There's a protective edge to his voice that makes me believe him completely.

That gets a chuckle out of me, one that breaks through the tears like sunlight through storm clouds.

"I know you would've," I say, pulling back just enough to look at him. "I haven't seen you like that since sophomore year of high school when Sam Cooper tried to bully me."

"Oh yeah, we swapped places and I beat the shit out of him," he says, smiling at the memory, proud and a little feral.

"He never messed with me again after that," I say.

"No one messed with you after that. I think they figured we were both unhinged." He grins wider, and despite everything, I find myself smiling back.

We come to a lull in the conversation and we both just sit there, the silence comfortable now instead of suffocating. The weight of what happened with Elliot still presses down on me, but Asher's presence makes it bearable.

Eventually we lay down, still fully clothed, and sleep comes easier than I expect.

I wake to a knock at the door—sharp, insistent. For a disoriented moment, I think it's Asher trying to get my attention, but when I blink my eyes open, he's right there beside me, sleeping on his side facing away from me. The knock comes again, louder this time, and I feel Asher stir beside me.

He shifts, rolling toward me with a confused grunt. His eyes crack open, still heavy with sleep, squinting against the dim light filtering through the curtains.

"What was that?" he asks, his voice rough and low, still caught somewhere between sleep and waking.

"Someone's knocking," I say, pushing myself up on one elbow. My heart's already picking up speed, that familiar anxiety creeping back in like cold water seeping through a crack. Who the hell would be at the door right now?

There's another rap at the door, louder and more insistent this time. More urgent.

"It's open," I call out, my voice still thick with sleep, scratchy in my throat.

I wipe the sleep from my eyes and blink a few times, trying to orient myself. My vision is still blurry around the edges and the room feels like it's spinning just a little bit, that disorienting sensation of being pulled too quickly from deep sleep.

The door opens slowly, the hinges creaking softly, and Elliot is standing there in the doorway, backlit by the hallway light. His silhouette is unmistakable—the slope of his shoulders, the way he holds himself.

Continue reading with full access to The House of Thorne.

UNLOCK FULL ACCESS