Feels Like Fire Read online

  Lucas.

  He’s coming up the long front walk toward the house. I clamber to the door and fling it open.

  “Casey, wait!” Victoria calls after me.

  I ignore her. Nothing could be more important.

  As I sprint off the porch, the engulfing heat takes my breath away, but so does the sight of my Lucas. The scorching cement doesn’t stop me as I speed barefoot down the walk. I need to get to him.

  He’s real. Because I know I’m awake now and I see him.

  He stops when he catches sight of me. I get a twinge of something amiss, but I don’t slow down. I let myself careen into him. His breath escapes in a deep grunt as he absorbs my impact.

  “Lucas…you’re here,” I cry. My eager hands run up and down his back, taking in the physical proof of his presence.

  I can’t get close enough. I tighten my grasp around his body and bury myself in him. But he doesn’t draw me in to him like he always does. His frame is rigid. He seems nervous. What’s happening?

  He doesn’t know why I’m so upset, why I’m so frantic for him. That’s it. That’s what’s wrong. I’ve caught him by surprise.

  “I had a horrible dream,” I explain, still clutching him. “It felt so real, Luc. I really thought I lost you.”

  He sighs, his body relaxing. His arms slide around me and he finally hugs me. His embrace feels different, he smells different, but I don’t care. I close my eyes and take him in.

  He’s here.

  two

  Lennon

  Icradle her against me because I don’t know what else to do. I think she needs this moment before I take it away from her.

  Trying to digest the blow of my brother’s death is horrible enough already, but it’s magnified beneath the weight of this moment, meeting the girl whose grief I’d failed to consider while buried in the darkness of my own.

  How do I tell her the truth?

  I look to my mother on the porch and she shrugs helplessly. She doesn’t know what to do either.

  A few more moments pass. Heat swelters between us as we bake in the Florida humidity. It doesn’t seem like Casey is planning to let me go anytime soon. The longer we carry on like this, the worse it will be. Still, I’m terrified of shattering her denial and breaking her heart all over again.

  This is not how I wanted us to meet for the first time. I fear it’s starting to border on cruelty, so I slowly pull away from her.

  “Casey…” I say gently.

  She looks up at me with these big, bright eyes that, until this moment, I’d only seen in photos. They’re so much bluer in person.

  I place a hand on my chest, patting it with my fingertips. “It’s Lennon.”

  Casey takes a step back, the color draining from her face. “No…” She shakes her head as her breathing quickens.

  She sways like she’s about to collapse, so I quickly grab onto her. She can’t hide in her fantasy anymore. I’ve made it all true all over again.

  Casey’s jaw clenches and her eyebrows pull together as she casts her skeptical gaze to my chest. She yanks down the neckline of my t-shirt, searching my skin for a tattoo she won’t find.

  She lets out a wail and beats her fists against my chest. I grab her wrists and spin her around, pinning her back against me.

  “Casey, I’m sorry,” I whisper into her ear.

  I tighten my hold on her as her legs give out and she sobs. Lifting her up, I carry her toward the porch. My mother offers a sympathetic frown and opens the door for me before she goes out for the bag I’ve left in the yard.

  The instant I put Casey down, she takes off, sprinting up the stairs. Seconds later, a door slams. I scrub my hands over my face, my exhaustion increasing.

  “Mom. I thought you were going to tell her I was coming.”

  My mother lets out a long breath as she sets down my bag. “She’s been in his room all day. I texted her this morning, but I guess she never saw it. I’m so sorry, Lennon. Come here, baby.”

  She opens her arms to me and I feel bad that my first words to her were less than cordial. Especially considering what’s just happened to our family.

  I bend to lay my head on my mother’s shoulder. I don’t know how I manage living so far away from her. Being in her arms like I’m her little boy again already makes my pain a little less raw.

  I can’t picture being little without picturing Lucas right beside me. I look over at the mantel, to a photograph of us at our high school graduation seven years ago. We’re both grinning from ear to ear, standing on either side of our mother like perfect book ends.

  I tear my eyes away from the happy faces in the photo before I fall apart again. There’s been so much love here our entire lives. But now that death has moved in, this house feels empty and cold. It no longer feels like home.

  “Aunt Elise is on her way,” my mother says, pulling away. “She wants to get me out of the house for a bit. Why don’t you go check on Casey? Maybe get to know each other.”

  My heart clenches in my chest as I think of Casey upstairs in Lucas’s old room. She probably shouldn’t be alone. I hate that I never got to see her with my brother. I wish he was here, introducing us properly, instead of this grotesque song and dance without him.

  “Okay,” I say, though Lucas’s room is the last place I want to be right now.

  My mother’s forehead wrinkles with concern. “Be careful with her, Lennon.”

  I nod and turn away, then take the stairs two at a time. When I reach Lucas’s door, I can hear Casey crying. I’m struck with a strange desire to comfort her, to protect her. I knock softly.

  “Casey?”

  Her whimpering ceases with a slight gasp, but she doesn’t answer. I ease the door open and cautiously step inside. Casey is on the bed, slouching against the headboard, clutching a pillow. She turns to look at me, and her entire body tenses like I’ve startled her.

  Maybe if we’d met before this, it wouldn’t be so difficult. I need her to see me—Lennon, not Lucas—when she looks at me. I need that, because, somehow, I feel like she’s all I have left of my brother.

  I sit at the edge of the bed with my back to Casey, hiding my face from her. I hate that I cause her more pain, but I understand.

  “I’m really sorry, Casey. I thought you knew I was coming. My mom said she texted you,” my words tumble out awkwardly. My voice is probably just as upsetting as my face.

  Casey stays silent. I hang my head and wait, staring at the worn oak planks beneath my feet.

  “I don’t know where my phone went,” she finally says, her voice quiet.

  I glance over my shoulder and her eyes dart away from me. “It’s okay. I can help you find it later, if you want.”

  “I have Lucas’s phone, but I don’t even know where mine is,” Casey mutters like she’s not talking to me in particular. She looks down at her hands. They're flecked with small cuts.

  I decide against asking what happened as she makes tight fists. I’m suddenly afraid I’m intruding and she’s too nice to tell me she wants to be alone.

  “Well, I just wanted to check on you.” I stand and face her as I back toward the door. “And apologize for before.”

  Casey straightens up, her hands dropping to the bed like anchors on either side of her. “Where are you going? You don’t have to go…Please?” Fear and desperation smother her face.

  I stand stupidly at the door, staring at her like my brain has ceased to function. We’re hardly a day into this whole grieving Lucas catastrophe and I’m already failing. I don’t know how to read her or help her. I don’t know how to help myself.

  I step toward Casey. She crawls to the edge of the bed as I reach it, and she gets on her knees to bring her height closer to mine.

  No one has ever looked at me this intently.

  Her blue eyes travel over my face, studying every inch as if seeking out any microscopic detail that’s different from Lucas. She traces her finger down the bridge of my nose, then up the curve of my jaw. She slip
s her hands into my hair, letting it pass slowly through her fingers. I bet she’s thinking it feels just like Lucas’s. Because it does. Chills roll through me as she runs her fingertips over the buzzed back and sides of my scalp. I’m not entirely certain what’s happening, but I can tell by Casey’s calm countenance that it’s helping her, so I stay still.

  She lifts my right hand, cradling it in hers, and she inspects it, front and back, several times before releasing it. Then her hands are back on my face, cupping my cheeks, brushing over my stubble. It all feels so intimate, I’m not sure I can handle it.

  It’s been a while since someone has touched me this way, taking in all of my features with such delicate curiosity. I feel vulnerable and nervous, but I still don’t move.

  Tears form in the corners of Casey’s eyes as she trails her finger so softly across my lips, I can hardly feel it. I close my eyes because I can’t bear her sadness. Finally, I understand what’s happening.

  It’s not me she’s seeing. It’s not me she’s touching. Maybe it was at first. Maybe she was marveling at all the deeply familiar pieces of the stranger before her, in awe of the uncanny sameness. Maybe it was easy for her to get lost in the moment, lost in the replica of the person she loves and aches for.

  As Casey leans in and rests her cheek against mine, I know it’s Lucas she’s clinging to.

  Touching him, feeling him, for the very last time.

  Saying goodbye to him the only way she can.

  three

  Casey

  Gathering what’s left of my dignity, I pull away from him. This man, who’s never once met me, just stood here while I violated his personal space and reduced him to a copy—a replacement for his dead brother. I expect annoyance or frustration in his face, but there’s only brokenness. Still, it doesn’t shake my embarrassment.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, wiping my tears from his cheek with my thumb.

  Lennon shakes his head. “Please don’t be. It’s okay.”

  I sit back on my heels with a sigh, and he moves to sit beside me. I’m caught in a strange conflict—I want nothing but to stare at his face, yet I can’t bear to look at him.

  I know he’s not Lucas.

  “How about we get out of here?” Lennon says.

  “And go where?”

  “Anywhere. Just not here. This room isn’t helping either of us.”

  He practically leaps off the bed and stands before me, his dark hair flopping to the side. It’s longer on top than Lucas’s. And I’m appalled by my failure to notice earlier that most of his left arm is covered in tattoos.

  He reaches for my hand and I let him pull me off the bed.

  “So, where are we going? Like downstairs or an actual place?”

  Lennon shrugs. “Let’s go for a drive.”

  I nod my agreement and step toward the door.

  “Do you want to change first?”

  I look down at myself. I raided Lucas’s closet last night for some of the old clothes he left behind when he moved out. I’m wearing a ginormous white t-shirt and boxer shorts, rolled several times at my hips to hold them up.

  “Not that there’s anything wrong with what you’re wearing,” Lennon adds quickly. “I’ll just be downstairs whenever you’re ready.”

  He leaves the room, closing the creaky door behind him. And just like that, I’m swallowed by an unbearable loneliness, a raging Lucaslessness coating every inch of my skin, penetrating my flesh with its unrelenting barbs. I can’t breathe.

  I tear off my shirt as I stumble across the room for my own clothes. I grab them from the desk chair and throw them on the bed. They’re forever tainted. The memory of yesterday is woven into their fabric. But I pull on the tank and shorts and I try not to feel closer to yesterday’s rawness.

  In the bathroom, I tame my tangled hair, pulling it into a knot on top of my head. Then I stand there and look at myself for the first time since losing Lucas. I’m a complete mess. I look like I’ve either been punched in both eyes or I’m having an allergic reaction to something.

  I rummage through the drawers and cabinets until I find some toothpaste. I’m even lucky enough to stumble upon a brand new toothbrush still in its packaging.

  After brushing my teeth and splashing water on my puffy face, I go downstairs. My stomach drops when I see Lennon sitting on the couch, despite knowing full well I’d find him there. My eyes tell my brain to go to him, to hold him, but I stay still because I know better. Hopefully, I can get used to this soon.

  He looks up from his conversation with Victoria, noticing me with his foreign, familiar hazel eyes. The corner of his mouth curves ever so slightly.

  Victoria gets up and breezes over to me. “Casey, I’m so sorry.” She wraps me tightly in her arms. “I tried to tell you Lennon was coming.”

  “It’s okay,” I say as she releases me.

  Her short, black hair frames her sad face. “I promise, once you get to know Lennon, he won’t feel so much like Lucas.” Lucas’s name spills from her mouth like it nearly cripples her to speak it out loud.

  “Mom.” Lennon is standing, his expression tortured.

  Victoria presses her quivering lips together like she wants to say more. Instead, she goes off to her room and closes the door.

  Lennon is in the foyer when I turn back around.

  “You ready?” he asks, pulling the door open.

  I step outside, instantly swaddled in a blanket of muggy heat. Lennon leads me to Victoria’s old Volkswagen Rabbit parked at the curb. He opens the passenger door and I slide into the vehicular furnace.

  “Sorry there’s no A/C,” he says, cranking my window down. “Mom’s a bit frugal.”

  He carefully shuts my door and rounds the car to the driver side as I buckle my scalding seat belt. He rolls down his own window before he starts the engine.

  Lennon is chivalrous, just like Lucas. So far, they seem very much the same. It’s like a tease, a cruel joke. There should be some sort of unwritten, divine rule prohibiting identical twins from being separated by premature death, so one isn’t left to outlive the other as a constant walking reminder of a missing half.

  I lost my boyfriend, the love of my life, my soulmate. But Lennon lost his brother, his twin, his lifelong companion, his very first friend. I’ve been too wrapped up in my loss to consider how it’s affecting Lennon.

  Good job, Casey.

  I peer over at Lennon. He has one casual hand on the steering wheel. His left elbow rests on the door, the first two fingers of his left hand pressed into his temple. Lennon doesn’t drive like Lucas. Lucas was a typically nervous ‘ten and two’ driver and he never went more than a few miles over the speed limit. Lennon, on the other hand, seems to drive like he’s on autopilot, and he’s currently going forty-two in a thirty-five.

  I’m suddenly curious about all the other ways he differs from Lucas.

  What am I doing? Lennon isn’t some wonder of the world on display, not some baffling specimen to dissect. I feel like one of those ignorant people who rudely stares at anyone who’s even remotely unique. That’s not who I am at all.

  But the girl I was died yesterday with Lucas.

  I decide to focus all my attention on Lennon. “So, how are you?”

  He glances at me, one eyebrow cocked, and I immediately regret my words and my blasé tone. But then he laughs.

  His laugh is different than Lucas’s.

  I wince. “Oh God. I didn’t mean to sound so nonchalant.”

  “Don’t worry, I know what you meant. And I appreciate it.”

  Blowing out a breath, I relax against the seat. “Okay, good. So why did you laugh, then?”

  Lennon draws his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s silent for a moment. “I guess because it’s such a simple question. But it prompts such a ridiculously heavy response…I still can’t believe this is real. I mean, how is he gone?”

  I need to offer Lennon more than my tears, but I have nothing. I can’t even help myself.

 
“To answer your question,” Lennon continues, looking at me, “I’m terrible.”

  He returns his focus to the road, snickering in a way that looks like he’s trying to conceal his trembling lip. Until now, he’d somehow remained so composed. I hope he hasn’t been holding back for my sake.

  Lennon pulls into a parking space along Central Avenue and throws the car into park. He hunches forward, burying his face in his hands. As his shoulders shake, I can do nothing but watch him fall apart in front of me.

  His sobs are heart-wrenching, barreling through the buckling floodgates like they’ve been building for too long.

  I put my hand on Lennon’s shoulder and he tenses as if he’d forgotten I was still here.

  Leaning back, he clears his throat. “I’m so sorry.” He wipes the tears from his face, then reaches for the shifter.

  I grab his arm. “Lennon.”

  He looks at me, his tears threatening to spill over again.

  “It’s okay,” I tell him.

  He stares at me for a beat longer and nods slightly.

  Returning his hand to the shifter, Lennon puts the Rabbit in reverse. He moves his hand to my headrest and twists his long torso to look behind him as he backs out of the parking space to continue down Central.

  “When’s the last time you ate?” he asks as if nothing just happened.

  I sort through the past horrendous day to recall when I last nourished my own body. It’s been the very last thing on my mind.

  “Last night? I’m not hungry though.”

  “Bull hockey.”

  “Oh my gosh. Lucas always says that.”

  Lennon glances at me with a smirk. “What, bull hockey?”

  “Yes. It drives me nuts.” My stomach lurches. “It drove me nuts.”

  Lennon’s lips allow a small smile. “We always said it when we were kids. Mom wouldn’t let us say ‘crap.’ So, bull hockey it was. And it kinda stuck.”

  He feels like Lucas again. I turn to look out the window, seeing our familiar downtown places. The hot wind blows at my face and I wish it could dry out my eyes so I never have to cry again. I never knew even the mundane could hurt so bad.