“You guys are picking this up fast,” the instructor praises. Her name is Liv and she’s been eyeballing me since we got here. I’m trying to figure out if I knew her in high school or something. For the life of me, I just can’t place it. “Sidney, darling. I’m going to cut in so you can see how fluid your movements are supposed to be. Just watch.”

Sidney eagerly steps away to learn more of the dance. Liv just wants to touch me. I can see it in her eyes. It pisses me off that she is taking advantage of Sidney’s naïvety. We assume the starting position and Liv grins at me broadly.

“You look familiar,” she whispers as we begin moving.

Liam and I were brought up to be good dancers. Mom taught both of us boys how to dance before prom. She said that it was important for a man to know how to dance. It made him a true gentleman and worthy of a proper lady.

“I grew up around here.” That’s all I am offering her.

“But you said your name is Lane. You look just like this guy I dated.”

“You don’t say,” I say as I dip her. I know exactly where this is going.

“Yeah. His name was Liam. We had some pretty fun times together.”

“That was my twin brother. He is deceased now.”

That shuts her up. Our dance now becomes very uncomfortable as she figures out what to say next. Finally, she mutters an apology and pulls away, successfully handing me back over to Sidney.

We dance a few more songs without Liv bothering us anymore, which is fine by me. Thankfully Sidney tells me that her feet hurt and she is ready to go. Once we are in the truck, she kicks off her heels in disgust.

“Remind me never to wear those damn things again. Now I have blisters,” she pouts.

I chuckle until she suddenly becomes serious, which makes me drop the smile.

“Lane, what was that lady saying to you?”

“She dated Liam at one point and thought I looked like him, which I do since he was my twin.”

She looks down at her hands and wrings them nervously, as if she is afraid to say something. “I want to see,” she says finally.

“See what?”

“His grave.”

For some reason, I feel sick about this. Not because I’ll have to see three headstones of my only family members, but because this will make it real for Sidney. Her delusion will be confirmed. As much as I want her to realize the truth, I also worry how she will react.

“Are you sure, Sidney?”

She looks over at me with tears in her eyes and nods. Sighing, I turn the truck around in a parking lot and head toward the cemetery. It’s closed for the night, so I park the truck closest to their gravesites and we get out. As I pull her hand into mine, we step over the small gate and I lead her to their headstones. She looks otherworldly in the moonlight with her pretty black dress and bare feet. Like a dark fairy of the night.

“Here,” I say, gesturing at where my family now rests.

She releases my hand and kneels in front of Liam’s headstone. Silent tears stream down her face as her fingers trace the engraving. After a few more tearful moments, she turns to me.

“How?” she asks, genuinely confused. I feel bad for her. Bad that she has to come to terms with the web she’s been spinning.

“I told you, Sidney.”

“But he was real to me. He loved me.”

“It wasn’t real.”

“Lane. It. Was. Real.”

This argument is one that we’ll have as long as we know one another. It isn’t enough for me to want to leave her though. I sit down beside her on the grass and grab her hand.

“No, babe, it wasn’t.”

She sits quietly for a moment as thoughts swarm in her brain. Suddenly, her eyes flick over to mine and she looks wild with realization.

“Liam is Patrick.”

Um, okay? “Babe, I don’t follow.”

“Lane, listen. Did you see Ghost with Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore?”

Sadly, I nod my head yes. What direction is she taking this now?

“It would explain why he scared me and was surprised that I reacted. And that first day when he spoke to me, he acted completely shocked that I talked to him.” She is starting to get excited and sits up on her knees. “Also, he never touched me. He so easily respected my boundaries.” Her eyes are shining happily now.

“No, Sidney. No.”

As if I hadn’t said anything at all, she continues to proudly explain her theory. “And when he would blow on me, it was always chilly air. I loved that about him, but looking back, it was so unnatural—”

Cutting her off, I say, “Sidney, you need help.”

She frowns at me. “Also, he got really freaked out when I came over and wouldn’t let me in the bathroom. Did he die there?”

My heart skips a beat because that isn’t common knowledge.

“Yeah. Lucky guess.”

“He also never ate around me or drank anything.”

“Sidney, you need help.”

“And when I mentioned that his life would be better if I weren’t in it, he got pissed and made me take it back.”

“Sidney, you need help.”

“He always conveniently ducked out when it was time to meet Tina.”

“Sidney—”

“And he never went to work or left the building.”

“You need—”

“Oh, and he really hated that movie! The moment it started playing, he flip—”

“Sidney, stop!”

Yanking my hand from hers, I stand and stalk toward the truck. I was so fucking stupid to get involved with someone when I knew she had mental issues. This was probably just my fucked-up way of making up for not being there for my own brother’s mental instabilities.

“Lane, wait!” she calls after me.

I stop and turn around so quickly that she runs right into me. Grabbing her shoulders, I steady her.

“Please, Lane. Believe me. Liam helped me. He loved me. Why can’t you jus—”

And in a moment of fury that I will forever regret, I slap her across the face. Not a hard slap, but one to get her attention. I didn’t mean to. It just happened. The moment my hand struck her delicate flesh, I died a thousand deaths. Betrayal crosses her face, followed quickly by tears.

“Oh, God. Sidney, no. I am so sorry,” I plead with her, and she becomes a blur as tears fill my own eyes. Her mother abused her, and I am no fucking better.

Her eyes lose their passion and dull over. What have I done?

Pop-pop-pop-pop!

We both jerk our head to the noise. All four of my truck tires have popped. Ignoring them, I reach to touch her cheek, which now sports a bright red handprint.

“Don’t touch me,” she hisses and steps back when I get close. My heart sinks because now she’s acting like the cornered animzal I first met.

Frustrated with myself, I pull out my phone to call AAA, only to find that I have no service. What the fuck? I look for Sidney. She’s trekking through the cemetery at full speed towards God only knows what.

“Sidney! Come back!” Sprinting after her, I eventually catch up to her and hook her tiny waist with one of my long arms. “You can’t go traipsing barefoot through the cemetery at night.”

“Let go of me!”

“Where do you think you’re even going anyway? Huh? You’re going the opposite direction from town.”

“I’m getting far away from you! Now let me go!”

Instead of letting her go, I spin her around and heave her over my shoulder. She kicks and screams, but I don’t let go.

“I hate you, Lane!”

“Too damn bad. It isn’t safe. We’re going to sit in the truck where someone will find us in the morning.”

By the time we reach the truck, she’s given up the fight. Opening my side, I push her inside. She crawls to the other side away from me, laying her cheek on the glass. Slamming the door shut behind me, I scoot closer to her.

Sidney, I’m so sorry. I just wanted you to snap out of the trance you were in. Believe me when I say I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

She looks over at me with the saddest look and my heart aches for her. “It wasn’t a trance. It was real,” she whispers. Turning away from me, she looks back out the window.

I rest my head on the steering wheel for what seems like ages before I hear her speak again.

“Believe what you want. He helped me. He protected me. He kept me company. He slept beside me. He saw me naked. He helped me orgasm. HE. LOVED. ME.”

Her words are all too fucking much. My brother is not a fucking ghost.

As we sit quietly for another long spell, I feel the temperature dropping a bit outside. The inside of the cab is getting chilly. Sidney has her knees drawn to her chest, tucked under her dress.

“Come here,” I order. She looks at me and shakes her head no. “You’re cold. I will warm you up.”

“I don’t get cold. I take icy showers, remember?” As soon as she says it, she shivers.

“Liar. You just fucking shivered. Now get your ass over here.”

Defeated, she scoots close to me and I wrap an arm around her. “I don’t understand. I never get cold.” Her pouty voice warms me.

“I think the more you drop your touching issues, the more your body comes back to life.”

She seems to contemplate that answer.

Our hot breathing has managed to fog up the windows. When I look up at the windshield, the breath is knocked out of me. Two sentences have me connecting everything.

Fix it, Pain. She’s worth it.

“Did I ever tell you the nickname Liam gave me?” I ask. She shakes her head no and looks up at me. My mind momentarily drifts to a time long ago.

“You’re such a fucking pain,” he growls at me as he yanks a pillow over his head.

Ever since the accident on the football field, he’s been different. Going to school is something he hates to do nowadays, and Mom leaves me the task of waking his grumpy ass up.

“And you’re such a fucking asshole. Now get up, Liam. You’re worrying Mom and Dad. But me, you’re just pissing me the fuck off,” I order.

He ignores me, so I rip the pillow from his grip and toss it into the hallway. After that, it’s on. Liam is out of the bed in two seconds and tackles my ass to the floor.

“Get off of me, fucker,” I spit out at him as I try to gain my bearings to no avail. Even though we’re twins, he’s always been slightly bigger and stronger.

His eyes suddenly sparkle as the Liam I know—my brother—returns. My heart is happy because the distant, brooding Liam is gone momentarily. Since the accident, we never see the real Liam anymore.

“I’ll get off of you if you say, ‘I’m Lane the Pain,’” he chuckles. He knows I hate that fucking nickname he gave to me when we were kids.

“Fuck you! Get off of me.”

“Say it, Pain. Admit you’re Lane the Pain!” he laughs again.

I’m going nowhere with his heavy ass on top of me.

But to see him laughing again makes my heart thrum to life. Maybe he’ll come back to us.

In an effort to keep the moment alive, I concede. “I’m Lane the Pain.”

He grins in true Liam style and slaps my chest before getting up. “Of course you are.”

“He thought I was a pain in the ass at times, so since pain rhymed with Lane, that became my nickname.” I flick my glance toward the windshield, and she gasps when she sees it. Running my fingers through her smooth hair, I mimic her words from earlier. “He’s Patrick.”