I Confessed To The Wrong Twin

Ch.17

Rhys

The second Jami walks through the cabin door, she stops so abruptly that I nearly walk straight into her. Her eyes move slowly across the massive living room, taking in the stone fireplace already glowing against the cold, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the snow-covered mountains, and the private hot tub sitting outside on the covered terrace.

Then she looks toward the kitchen, where I had the place stocked with enough food to feed us for a week, and her mouth falls open.

“This isn't a hotel.”

I lean against the doorway, trying not to look too pleased with myself. “Nope.”

“You rented an entire cabin?” She turns around slowly, her eyes narrowing at me. “Reid.”

I shrug like I didn't just spend an unreasonable amount of money on this place. “You said you wanted somewhere quiet.”

“I said somewhere quiet. I didn't say I wanted to move into a luxury mountain cabin.”

“Same thing.”

She looks around again, still completely stunned. “You planned all this?”

“Obviously.”

“And how much did this cost?”

“That information is classified.”

“That means it cost a lot.”

“Probably.”

She shakes her head, but the little smile trying to form on her lips gives her away. I grab the handle of her ridiculous suitcase before she can start another argument and drag it toward the bedroom.

“Come on, Sweetgirl. You can complain after you see the view.”

The bedroom is just as ridiculous, with another massive window overlooking the mountains, a king-sized bed covered in thick blankets, a fireplace built into the stone wall, and enough space to make her dorm room look like a storage closet. Jami walks inside and slowly turns in a circle, her expression getting softer as she takes everything in.

“Oh my God.”

I grin. “You like it?”

“I love it.” She turns back to me, and the genuine happiness on her face catches me completely off guard.

I booked this place because I remembered every stupid little detail she gave me yesterday. Somewhere cold. Somewhere quiet. Good food. No family. No studying. Nobody telling her what to do. I wanted to give her exactly that, but I didn't expect seeing her this happy about it to hit me somewhere deep in my chest.

By the time we finish unpacking, I'm starving, so I head straight for the kitchen with Jami following behind me.

“What are you making?” she asks, watching me pull open one of the cabinets.

“Food.”

“That wasn't the question.”

“I don't know yet.”

She stares at me for a second before looking at the pan in my hand. “You brought me all the way here and you don't know how to cook?”

“I know how to cook.”

“What can you make?”

“Cereal.”

She bursts out laughing so loudly that I can't help grinning. “That's not cooking!”

“It involves a bowl.”

“You're hopeless.”

She takes the pan from my hand and pushes me aside. “Move.”

I let her take over because, honestly, watching her become comfortable in my kitchen is way more entertaining than actually cooking. I hover around her pretending to help until I steal a piece of meat from the cutting board.

“Reid!” she snaps, smacking my hand away. “That was for dinner.”

“I was quality testing.”

“You've been quality testing everything for the last ten minutes.”

“I haven't given you a review…i should get more taste.”

She narrows her eyes at me, and the second I reach for another piece, she smacks my hand again. I deliberately steal it anyway and chew it with a completely innocent expression.

“You're such a child,” she complains, throwing a napkin at my face.

I catch it, laughing. “You started it.”

“How did I start it?”

“You attacked me.”

“With a napkin!”

“Still counts.”

By the time dinner is ready, the kitchen looks like a disaster zone. There is flour across the counter, sauce on my sleeve, and somehow a piece of lettuce is stuck in Jami's hair. I point at it, and she reaches up immediately.

“Where?”

“Other side.”

She searches again and misses it, so I step closer and pull the little piece of lettuce free myself.

“Got it.”

She looks at the lettuce between my fingers before narrowing her eyes. “Don't you dare eat that.”

I pop it into my mouth.

Her horrified expression makes me laugh so hard I have to lean against the counter, and she eventually starts laughing too. It's stupid and completely childish, but there is something about being alone with her that makes everything feel ridiculously easy.

There is f*****g restrain, nothing to worry about, and no family waiting around the corner to remind Jami that she isn't enough.

It's just us.

Later that night, we sit outside beneath thick blankets while the hot tub steams beside us and the fire pit throws a warm glow across the wooden deck. The cold mountain air brushes against my face, but Jami is curled comfortably beneath the blanket I wrapped around her earlier.

“This is actually perfect,” she says quietly, looking toward the mountains.

I glance at her. “Told you.”

For a while, neither of us says anything. The silence isn't awkward. It feels different from the silence back at school, where there is always some expectation hanging between us. Out here, there is nothing we have to do.

Then Jami starts talking.

“Growing up with Vanessa was exhausting.”

My attention immediately shifts to her.

She keeps her eyes on the fire, her fingers twisting the edge of the blanket. “Everything was always a competition. If she got something, I wanted to be happy for her, but somehow it always turned into another reason for me to feel like I wasn't enough. She was prettier, more outgoing, more popular, and even when I did well in school, it never felt like it mattered because she'd always find something else to make me feel bad about.”

Her voice gets quieter.

“So I learned to stay quiet. If I didn't react, eventually she'd get bored.”

“Did it work?”

She gives me a bitter little laugh. “No.”

Something tightens in my chest.

I know what it feels like to learn how to survive your own family by keeping certain things buried, even if our reasons aren't exactly the same.

“What about your dad?” I ask.

“He loves me. I think.” She looks down at her hands. “He's just always working. And Evelyn made it very clear early on that I wasn't really her daughter.”

I don't know what the hell to say to that, so I reach across the space between us and take her hand instead.

She looks down at our joined fingers before glancing at me. “Why are you being so quiet?”

“Because you're talking.”

She smiles. “That's rare for you.”

“Don't ruin the moment.”

Her laugh is soft, and for a few seconds, everything feels almost normal. Then she turns the question back on me. “What about your family?”

My fingers freezes. “What about them?”

“You never talk about your family.”

Fuck.

For one dangerous second, I almost tell her everything. I almost tell her about waking up when I was five and finding out my mother had left, about the years without a single call, and about how she suddenly wanted her sons back when she became sick.

But I can't.

“She left when we were kids,” I finally say, keeping my voice flat. “Came back years later. Things were complicated.”

Jami's expression softens immediately. “You don't have to talk about it.”

“I know.”

She squeezes my hand. “I'm sorry.”

Those two words hit harder than they should.

We move inside when the cold becomes unbearable. We settle onto the massive couch in front of the fireplace, and Jami curls up beside me beneath one of the thick blankets. She keeps talking for a while, her voice gradually becoming softer until I realize she's stopped answering herself.

I look down.

She's fallen asleep, her head rests against my chest, her breathing slow and peaceful, while one hand is curled into the front of my shirt like she's holding onto me even in her sleep.

I stare at her fingers.

This was supposed to be a game.

That's what I've been telling myself since the moment she mistook me for Reid. I brought her here because she was supposed to have the best fun and be happy away from her troublesome boring life, because pretending to be Reid had become entertaining, and because I wanted to see how far I could take this stupid holiday romance before handing her back.

But then, after all that from the moment we started this journey up to this point, I don't think these are moments I want to just handover.

The realization hits me hard enough that my chest tightens. I look down at her sleeping face, and for the first time, I don't care that she thinks I'm Reid.

I want her.

I want you Jami Anderson. I want to mutter that out. The girl who laughs at stupid jokes, argues about snowmen, studies too much, can't tell the difference between my brother and I even though anyone could tell at a glance.

She shifts in her sleep, moving closer until her cheek presses against my chest and her fingers tighten around my shirt.

I stare at her for several long seconds before dragging a hand over my face.

“Fuck...” I whisper, my voice barely audible in the quiet cabin. “What am I doing?”