That Summer Night (Callaways #6) (8 page)

"And you?"

He shrugged. "I'm sure they loved me in their own way. But we had nothing in common." As he finished speaking, he headed back to the couch.

Shayla followed him, but once again settled herself on the very uncomfortable-looking chair by the fake fireplace.

"There's room for you here," he said, patting the soft cushions next to him. Her eyes sparkled at his suggestive words, and he smiled. "Unless you don't think you can control yourself when you're sitting this close to me?"

"Maybe you can't control yourself."

"I'm always in control." While his words were meant to be teasing, they were in fact the truth. He'd taken control of his life a long time ago, and he liked calling the shots. The one time he'd let himself get too caught up in what someone else wanted had ended in disaster.

"So let's get back to your family," Shayla said. "Your dad is a teacher, right?"

He let her change the subject, because he thought keeping Shayla on the other side of the coffee table was a better idea than putting her within arm's reach. "Yes. He teaches economics at Stanford. My mother runs the music program at a private school."

"How often do you see them?"

"I never see them."

"Why not?" she asked in surprise.

He shrugged. "I told you, we have little interest in each other. Robert is their favorite son, the one they understand and respect."

"Even after what he did to you?"

He stiffened, her question taking him back to a place he didn't want to go. "Yes," he said tersely. "Even after that."

"I don't understand."

"Join the club."

"They must have been angry with Robert. They must have realized that he hurt you."

"Who the hell knows what they thought? It was a long time ago. I'm over it."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you."

"Well, what you believe doesn't really matter to me."

He didn't usually speak so harshly to a woman he barely knew, but she'd touched a nerve. It wasn't just Robert's betrayal that had hurt, it was also the way his parents had tried to make excuses for his brother that had told him just where he stood in the family.

"You like to say that a lot," Shayla said. "That things don't matter to you. That you don't care about anyone or anything and that no one cares about you in return. You even bought a boat called the Lone Wolf. I don't think that was a coincidence."

"I did like the name."

"Where did you and Lisa meet? What brought you together? What made you fall in love with her?" Shayla asked.

He could see her curiosity growing with each question. "I don't want to talk about Lisa."

"Did you have a long engagement or one of those whirlwind romances?"

"What part of
I don't want to talk about Lisa
don't you understand?" he asked with annoyance.

She brushed off his question. "I know Lisa and Robert got married seven years ago, because I went to their anniversary party, which took place about a month before they separated. So I'm guessing you were with her at least eight years ago. That would have made you how old?"

"Twenty-six," he bit out.

Surprise flashed in her eyes. "Twenty-six?" she echoed. "Really?"

Her gaze narrowed as if he'd presented her with an equation that didn't add up.

"Yes. Why so surprised?"

"How old are you now?"

"Thirty-four."

"But Robert is thirty-four. How are you the same age?"

"You're the doctor. I'm sure you can figure it out."

"You're twins?"

"Bingo. I beat Robert out of the womb by one minute. It was the last time I was ahead of him."

"That is crazy," she muttered with a disbelieving shake of her head. "I had no idea Robert was a twin. Why didn't he tell me?"

"Why would he tell you?" Reid countered.

"Because I'm a twin, and we've had many conversations about the role genetics plays in disease. It seems strange that Robert wouldn't tell me he was also a twin."

"He probably forgot he had a twin," he said dryly.

"You don't seem very forgettable." She paused, compassion in her gaze. "Now I know why Robert's betrayal cut so deep. You aren't just brothers; you're twins. There's a difference."

"Is there?"

"Of course. My brother, Colton, and I have always shared a deep connection. We're much closer to each other than we are to our other siblings."

"Well, I don't have any other siblings, so I wouldn't know the difference."

"Were you and Robert close when you were young?"

"When we were really young," he admitted. "Once we hit school, Robert sped ahead. He wouldn't just jump one grade at a time; he'd skip two. I'd be struggling with basic math, and he'd be doing algebraic equations in his head. By the time we were ten, we were living very different lives. While I was figuring out high school, Robert was off to college at fifteen."

"Very few people are as smart as your brother."

"Apparently you come close."

She gave a self-deprecating shrug. "My IQ is nowhere near Robert's level. But there's book smart and street smart, and I have a feeling you would beat your brother when it came to street smarts any day of the week." She cocked her head to the right, giving him a thoughtful look. "Did you ever want to go to college?"

"Never. School was Robert's world, not mine."

"Did you always want to be in the Army?"

"No. I didn't know what I wanted to be. The Army seemed as good a choice as any at the time. In the end, it turned out to be the best possible place for me."

"You were a baby when you enlisted."

"I didn't think so at the time. In fact, I thought I had it all together, that I knew everything."

"Funny how that hasn't changed," she said dryly.

He smiled and tipped his head. "Fair point."

"So you were in the Army a long time."

"Sixteen years. I'd still be there if I hadn't almost gotten my leg blown off."

She winced, her gaze narrowing with compassion. "What happened, Reid?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

She sighed. "You brought it up."

"Now I'm dropping it."

"There's a lot you don't want to talk about."

"Then maybe you could do me a favor and stop asking me questions."

Her response to his words was a smile, and that irritated him even more. Not only was she not taking him seriously, she was damned beautiful when she wasn't terrified for her life. "What's so funny?" he demanded.

"You. You're like a grumpy bear who caught a nail in his paw and wants to bite anyone who tries to get close enough to take it out."

He stared back at her. "Is that what you think? That all I need is someone to pull out the nail? Maybe someone like you? You can't heal me, Doc. So don't even think about trying."

Her smile disappeared. "I wasn't trying to diminish your injury, Reid. I'm sorry if you took it that way."

"It's fine." He picked up Robert's notebook. "Let's get back to business. What can you tell me about these sketches?"

She hesitated, as if she didn't quite want to let the personal conversation drop, but in the end, she went along with him. "I don't know if I can tell you anything. I've seen Robert drawing, but he's never shared the illustrations with me."

"Why don't you take a look at them now?"

She hesitated. "Do I need to? You have the notebook. You know where to meet Robert. Do we need to decipher the sketches?"

"I'd like to know what I'm heading into and I think this notebook holds a clue."

"Does that mean you've finally decided to help your brother?"

"First, I want to figure out why these sketches are important. If Robert is in trouble, I'd like to know what that trouble is before I get down in the quicksand with him."

She stared back at him. "I suppose that makes sense."

"Of course it makes sense. You don't go into battle without a plan."

"I don't want to go into battle at all."

"Then you shouldn't have told Robert you'd help him."

"I couldn't say no. He's my friend." She paused. "Even if you won't make me a promise, I know you're going to help Robert, because he's your brother, your twin brother. No matter what he's done to you, he's blood, and you're a loyal man."

He stared back at her. "I hope you're wrong."

"But I'm not, am I?"

Chapter Seven

Reid didn't answer her question, which was fine, since she already knew the truth.

"I'll take a look at the sketches with you," Shayla said. "But, first, I'm going to make some tea. Do you want some?"

"No, thanks."

She took her time in the kitchen, letting the water come to a full boil before finally pouring it into a mug. She let the bag steep for a couple of minutes, stirring every now and then. As she watched the color change from clear to amber, she contemplated all the twists and turns her life had taken in the past few weeks. Just when she'd thought her road had straightened out, another curve tossed her off course.

The latest curve was Reid. He had a presence about him that demanded attention. In that way, he was a little like Robert. But Robert commanded people with his mind. With Reid, it was physical. He had strength and confidence. He was the kind of man you wanted by your side when a fight broke out, the kind of man you could lean on and be certain that he would protect you with his life.

How hot was that? Didn't every woman want that kind of man?

And then there was the whole sexy, scruffy thing Reid had going on. She could still feel the rasp of his five o'clock shadow against her cheeks as he slid his tongue into her mouth.

She tried to shove the memory of that kiss to the back of her head, at least for now. Maybe later, in the dark, when she was alone, she'd let herself remember…

She took the teabag out of her mug and headed back to the couch, settling in next to Reid. "So what have you figured out?"

"That Robert has a very good memory. He recreated a lot of our childhood in this comic book, but I don't understand why." He looked at her with confusion in his eyes. "You said you gave him the notebook last year. Why didn't he draw something new, something different? Why rehash what he wrote when he was twelve or fourteen?"

"Maybe there was comfort in the familiar. What's the story about?"

"The adventures of teenage daredevil Razor and his trusty sidekick, Rocco, a golden retriever. They have superhuman skills with which they fight crime, search for treasure, and save lives." He slid closer to her and flipped through to the third page.

She had to fight the urge to move away. She told herself not to be ridiculous. She should not be so affected by the simple brush of his leg against hers.

"This is our house," Reid said, not at all as distracted as she was, which was a slight blow to her ego.

She forced herself to focus on the sketch, curious to see where Reid and Robert had lived as kids. The two-story house looked like a typical suburban home for a young family, but the action in front was far more disturbing. On the porch swing, the dog, Rocco, watched the teenaged Razor sail a skateboard down the front steps toward two hideous looking demons. In Razor's hand was a mighty sword, apparently to be used to vanquish the evil in front of him.

There was something very familiar about Razor. "That's you," she said, suddenly realizing the truth. "You're Razor."

Reid frowned as he gazed at the sketch. "I don't think that's true."

"Come on, it looks just like you."

"I don't see it."

"The kid is a warrior about to do battle, and if that isn't you, I don’t know who it is."

"Maybe it's Robert living out some fantasy," he suggested.

She thought about that. It would make sense for a young artist to put himself in the story, but this sketch didn't feel like Robert. As she took a closer look, she saw a face in the upstairs window. "Hang on. I think I found Robert." She pointed to the figure barely visible behind a curtain.

Reid slowly nodded. "Yeah, you're right. That's Robert. That was his bedroom window. I used to see him sitting up there studying at his desk when I was outside playing with the other kids."

"Robert didn't join you?"

"Almost never. He was always about the books."

As she stared at the face of the little boy in the window, she felt a little sad. "It's like he's in prison. The square panes of glass look like bars, don't they? The boy seems trapped."

Reid frowned at her analysis. "I think you're reading into it, Shayla."

"Am I? Didn't your parents put a lot of pressure on Robert to succeed?"

"No more than he put on himself. They did encourage him to be the best, but even if they hadn't, Robert would have done it on his own. He was self-motivated. He'd race home from school to do his homework. He wasn't a prisoner in the house. He could have left. He could have come outside with us. He didn't want to. He always said no when I asked, and after a while, I stopped asking.

"Well, prisoner or not, it's clear to me that Robert made you the hero of his graphic novel. And your dog," she added.

"We didn't have a dog. I always wanted one, but we couldn't get one because Robert had allergies."

She smiled at Reid. "Robert made you a superhero and gave you the dog you always wanted. You've got to like him for that."

"I don't know if that was Robert's thinking."

"Well, it makes sense to me."

"Let's move on." Reid flipped through a couple more pages of Razor and Rocco battling demons, robots, and other supernatural characters, the setting changing from the suburbs to the woods, a lakeside pier, and then the rooftop of a skyscraper.

"Razor and Rocco certainly get around," she said.

"Yeah." He paused on a page that brought the story back to suburbia.

She studied the drawing which showed Rocco in the back of a car, gazing longingly back at someone, the illustrator perhaps. There were two figures in the front seat, and in the distance was what appeared to be a university. "Rocco goes to college, but there's no sign of Razor." She paused, trying to put herself into Robert's head. "It's almost like Rocco is your brother. He's going to college. He's being taken away from his best friend, Razor." She touched Reid's shoulder in excitement. "I get it. Rocco is really Robert. This whole book is about the relationship between you and your brother."