“S-sorry,” Alex stammered.
“Honey, please. Talk to me,” Hannah said quietly.
More heads turned. Owen ripped his gaze from Jason and started for his sister, but the town cop getting involved only drew more attention.
Jason heard Alex’s squeak. The squeak of the dying. A prayer for release from this mortifying realm.
Owen had always said sooner or later there’d be a fallout. He’d promised that someone would get hurt, and he was right.
There was no way out of this mess without causing pain.
The only choice he had was the decision, Carl and Cora’s hurt? Or Owen and Alex’s? The family he’d originally come for, or the one he’d been forging since?
He could lose everything, of course. He could lose all of them in the space of seconds, Owen only stopping to thank him before racing off to propose to Hayden.
But.
He felt loved enough . . . and more. He loved enough.
He dropped himself onto the piano stool and slipped the microphone into its holder.
Rebecca Clarke’s “Piano Trio”. The piece Owen had first heard him play.
Difficult. Intense, stormy, passionate. A piece ingrained into his fingers since he was seventeen. A piece that elicited urgency, allegro agitato. A piece that felt like the pounding of his heart.
But . . . this wasn’t just about his heart. There was only one person here he needed to prove anything to, and for him . . .
Without another second of hesitation, Jason shared his secret.
The notes ripped through him with the fear. He finished a short section with a flourish and a flush. What next?
Silence.
Shock and confusion.
His pulse ticked up a notch. Owen, where was Owen—
“The fuck.” Pete. Stunned. Bright red.
A choking sound. Devastation. “Oh God. Jason.”
Cora.
He swung his head to her. She stood there in mint, under dim lights in the middle of the room, tears tracking mascara down her face.
She sobbed, turned and ran, worried partner on her heels.
Renee and Nathan watched Cora leave, grimacing.
The phone at his chest buzzed and buzzed. Frantic messages from Carl. Who’d heard everything. Knew the gig was up.
Another strangled voice. Quieter. Alex. “What’s going on?”
A heavy clearing of a throat, and Jason’s pulse echoed Chopin as he snapped his gaze finally to Owen.
To Owen and his warm eyes, the steady set of his jaw. Owen beheld him like he . . . like he was proud. Thankful. Relieved. Jason didn’t know quite how that would translate, but it was enough.
“I can explain,” Owen said.
Jason jumped to his feet, voice echoing in the microphone. “It’s my mess to clean up.” He gazed around at half the townsfolk he’d gotten to know, the faces that were feeling like friends; neighbours; family.
All the faces he’d deceived.
“I’m sorry.” The words fell as a whisper, but they carried. “I’m not Carl. We just swapped lives for a while.” He looked imploringly towards Pete.
Pete shook his head over and over. “But you’re . . . I can’t believe . . .”
“We’re twins. We didn’t find out until a few years ago.”
“Twins. And he . . . he didn’t want to be here anymore? How long?”
“A few weeks. Until the wedding. It hurt him too much to be your best man.”
“Knew it,” Darla exclaimed across the table. A dozen eyebrows snapped upwards in her direction and she rubbed her hands together. “Carry on.”
Pete blinked rapidly. “He never said.”
“He wants you happy. He’s”—Jason pulled out his phone—“he’s been here the whole time. He just couldn’t be here.”
A harsher voice. Alex. “What else have you lied about? Have you been leading my uncle on?”
“Alex,” Owen said tightly.
“No, Owen. It’s not okay. You were happy, I could see it, and he’s tricked you.”
“He’s done no such thing.”
“You—you knew?”
Jason’s fingers grazed cool ivory. “I asked him not to tell anyone. I asked him to pretend with me.”
“Pretend. So you’re not . . . boyfriends?”
Jason swallowed hard. Shook his head. “It’s all fake.”
Alex flushed, furious.
Jason had counted on a lot of hurt, but he hadn’t been ready for the power of Alex’s. Alex pushed past his stunned mother and followed in Cora’s footsteps, running out the door.
“Owen, please explain.” Hannah’s voice was quickly drowned out by a chorus of other people asking questions and the slap of Jason’s shoes.
He raced out the door, leaving Owen with half of his baggage while he raced after the other half.
Fresh air hit him with a salty tang and he spied both Cora and Alex in the distance, one splitting to the left at the beach, the other, the right. Jason didn’t hesitate. He worried for them both, but one was even more his family than the other. He needed to express that.
He caught up with Alex at the sea’s edge. Sun on its last rays at the horizon. Waves lapping gently at the shore. Sand sinking under his feet.
The beach Owen went to with his mum, dad, sister. Alex and Mary. The beach Jason had been avoiding all day.