pull your heads out of your asses and fall in line.”
“Asshole.”
“Just stating the obvious.”
“You know what you do to assholes who are first?”
“What?” He turns his back to me.
“You rub their smug noses in it.” I tackle him, forcing him down on the floor. He sprawls face-first on the straw, and I rub his nose in it.
“Asshole.” He reaches up behind him, trying to grab at my shirt.
Matched in every way imaginable—we’re identical genetic copies of the same fertilized egg—he’s admittedly the stronger of the two of us. I’m more of an endurance enthusiast, forcing my body to weather the grueling demands of ultra-marathons. Asher works the land. His body is hewn from hard, honest labor. He’s got more bulk and brute strength than me. It doesn’t take long for him to toss me from his back.
We roll around on the straw, swinging, punching, laughing like the best friends we are. We finally roll to a stop, chests heaving and gasping for breath.
The tension I’ve been holding eases. Knots release in my shoulders as reality sets in. I can fix things with Grace. Convincing her I won’t turn my back on her becomes my top priority.
“I need to fix this.”
“Don’t.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t feel like you gotta fix shit. Your job is to listen to what she says. She’s not looking for you to fix anything in her life. Do that, and it’ll be the biggest mistake you make. Listen to her and you’ll be amazed by what happens.”
“I don’t know how to be passive like that. I’m a doer. I make shit happen.”
“You can’t make anything happen in this case. All you can do is show her that she’s the most important thing in your life. Support her and prove to her how this time is different. You’re different. Words mean shit. Actions are what really count.”
I’m happy to have Asher in my corner, but I don’t know if I believe him. My shitty history with Grace is my mess to straighten. Problems demand solutions.
One way, or another, I’ll prove I’m worthy of Grace’s trust. My heart refuses to abandon its goal, and while it rattles with reckless abandon inside my chest, I think about how I’m going to convince Grace I’m the only man worthy of her love.
“What the heck is going on here?” Our mother’s voice snaps our heads up. “Why are the two of you covered in straw? Are you fighting again?”
“We’re not fighting,” Asher speaks first. “Just carrying on a conversation.”
“With your fists?” Mom shakes her head. “Or do we talk now by rolling around on the ground?” She clicks her tongue at us and I suddenly feel like I’m seven again. Asher too. He dusts off his jeans and ducks his head, refusing to look her in the eye.
“We really should be getting inside.” Asher grabs his hat and dusts it free of dirt and straw. I glance around, find where we kicked my hat into the corner, and retrieve it as well.
Asher and I are spitting images of each other, with the exception of our shirts. Otherwise, the triplet curse struck again; same boots, trousers, and hats.
“You think they’re talking about us?” I slap my hat on the side of my trousers and glance toward the house.
“Not us, but they’re definitely talking about you.”
“Asshole.”
“Who is them?” Mom looks between the two of us, demanding an answer.
“Evie and Grace,” Asher answers before I can stop him.
It’s a bad idea letting Mom anywhere near Grace. She’ll mother me and dig for information I’m not ready to provide.
“Grace is here? Lucy’s Grace?” Her mouth curves into a not-so-innocent smile. “I just came from visiting Lucy.” Mom’s already got Evie firmly in her corner. I don’t need her working that weird magic on Grace—at least not until I have a better idea where Grace and I stand.
“Come on, let’s head inside.” I tug at Asher’s sleeve, the message implicit. I need him on my side.
“We weren’t expecting you for dinner.” Asher reaches Mom first and gives her a kiss on the cheek.
“I was just stopping by. I have something to give Evie, but if you’re having dinner…”
This feels like the worst first date in history. Not that Grace and I are on a date, but still. I can handle Asher and Evie. They’re known quantities. Throw Mom in the mix and anything can happen.
“We always have room for one more.” Asher beams, and I want to throat punch him.
My small and intimate dinner is turning into something quite different; a