As I led Gracie down the hallway, every step felt like some kind of purgatory, and every beat of my heart grew heavier and heavier as my mind lingered on our interactions from moments ago.

I didn't know how we were going to recover after I laid the ugly truths on the table. I had owned up to everything about Lydia. I almost regretted doing so. I wondered if I should've fibbed a little, to smooth out the jagged edges, so that Gracie wouldn't feel the hurt so deeply?

I winced in shame.

God—

Seeing those tears falling down Gracie's cheeks—

Witnessing the sheer pain in her eyes—

It had torn me up as though my insides were being dragged through a gauntlet of knives and glass shards.

As I followed Gray down the hallway, I felt as though I had just been raked, raw and ragged, through the utmost extremes. The proverbial dust from my emotional storm was starting to settle, and my mind regained the ability to think clearly once more, to finally process what Gray had confessed to me earlier. Earlier—my state of mind had been too far gone to actually comprehend the implications of his confession.

I think I kissed her because she was your twin.

I was pretending she was... you.

As I replayed Gray's words in my head, their underlying meaning slowly wound itself, coiling, clenching, around my heart. In a twisted way—I was almost relieved because this implied that Gray had been fantasizing about me the whole time with Lydia, that Lydia meant nothing to him, but I was also... offended. Deeply so. My sister and I may have shared the same face when she was still alive, but Lydia and I had been nothing alike when it came to the shit that actually mattered.

A deep-seated sense of indignation rose in me.

How could Gray even think that Lydia and I were interchangeable?

How dare he go to Lydia when I was still here?

Right then, I knew I'd never let myself off the hook for being the fucker who made Gracie cry. I never wanted to give Gracie another reason to shed a tear over me.

But how?

An eerie sense of calm settled over me as I considered this question, and, despite my fucked up mood, my mind actually became quite lucid. I knew something had to give. I couldn't continue with business as usual. At that very moment, I made a silent vow: I needed to level up, starting right fucking now. It was time to grab my demons by the throat and wrestle them to the ground until they could no longer hurt me or anyone else I cared about.

Afghanistan still haunted me.

My dad still haunted me.

I felt as though I had been running from ghosts for too long. I couldn't run anymore. Gracie had become a casualty of my shitty choices in life. I refused to maim her further. It was time to stay and fight—to become a better man. My girls were all I had now, and I intended to give them a life of happiness that they both deserved.

From now on, I only wanted to put smiles on Gracie's face, Stevie's, too, and if anything in life ever made them cry, then I wanted to be the one they ran to for comfort, for safety.

Could I become their sanctuary? Their refuge?

I hoped so.

But, first, I needed to save myself, to make sure that I was standing on stable ground.

With every step down the hallway, my irritation spiked more and more. A small-minded, petty part of me wanted to get back at Gray, to let him know that I wasn't interchangeable with anyone, not even a twin who looked just like me, that I should be fucking irreplaceable in his mind and in his heart.

Our friendship had been special.

Our love had been one-of-a-kind.

I wanted Gray to recognize that I was a special, one-of-a-kind woman who should've been worth fighting for. I wanted Gray to know how badly he had fucked up, so that he would never make this mistake again with anyone else.

Because this shit hurt like a motherfucker, and nobody deserved to be betrayed in the way I had been betrayed.

Nobody.

All of a sudden, dormant wounds felt fresh again, and a new kind of storm began to brew within me as I glared in Gray's direction.

The heaviness in my heart eased a little as I dared to believe in the impossible. I prayed it would be my saving grace. I was ready to look inward, to put in the work and stop letting my past destroy my present.

Just then, the doorway to my old bedroom came into view. Our steps slowed to a stop as Gracie and I neared the entrance. The door was closed. Stevie was sleeping inside.

I glanced over to Gracie. "So, um... I was thinking that you could crash here with Stevie for the week? Is that okay?"

Despite the fact that my house had three whole bedrooms, options were limited.

The master bedroom was like a time capsule from hell. Tainted with too many violent, unsavory memories from my parents' troubled marriage, it had remained untouched since my dad's death. I never went inside unless I had to find something, and I didn't want Gracie or Stevie anywhere near that shit.

There was also a spare guest room, but it was currently stuffed to the brim with my parents' crap. Until now, I had been away too much to find the time to properly sort through everything.

My mom had been something of a hoarder. Her piles of junk only grew more out of hand when compounded with the fact that my dad refused to let us throw anything away without his permission. He liked power and control over every little decision in our house. At any rate, the guest room had since turned into a storage-room-slash-warehouse. No longer habitable in its current state.

Not long ago, when I returned from deployment, I had cleared out most of my old shit—keeping only the twin bed, dresser, and bookshelves—and set up Stevie's crib and other gear in my bedroom.

I had decided my old room was the best place for Gracie to sleep.

For now, I would take the couch. Again.

So, um... I was thinking that you could crash here with Stevie for the week?

Masking my calm before the storm behind a placid smile, I nodded at Gray. "Of course. This is fine."

Quietly, he opened the door, careful not to wake Stevie. We crept inside with soft, ninja-like footsteps. There was a moon-shaped night light in the corner, illuminating the shadowy space with a faint, warm glow. So many parts of the room were still recognizable to me—Gray's old twin bed, his old dresser, his old bookshelf—and yet so much had changed, now, too. Stevie's crib and changing table were only some of the new additions that Gray had added recently.

As my gaze continued to drift around Gray's old childhood room, a flood of memories came rushing back, and I couldn't help but reminisce a little. This was the place where we had played video games together as kids. This was the place where we saw each other naked for the first time as teens.

Now, these remnants of Gray's boyhood were long gone. Now, the room belonged to Stevie. Even though I was still upset as hell with the man, I had to admit, he did an amazing job transforming his room into a nursery, especially within such a short time frame.

"You can sleep there," he murmured while nodding towards the twin mattress. "Also, there's an outlet next to the bed if you need to charge your phone."

"Okay, thanks."

"Anything else you need for tonight?"

My eyes narrowed slightly. "Actually, yeah."

"Oh?"

I took a step towards him. Irritation, indignation, and something else that I couldn't quite put my finger on seemed to be fueling my sudden show of boldness. It filled me with a confidence that I had never possessed before. Again, this was something the old Gracie would've never done. The old Gracie hated conflict and confrontation.

But I no longer wanted to swallow my pain to please others.

I wanted Gray to know exactly how I felt about him and Lydia.

I wanted to march out of the shadows, into the light, and shout and scream and stomp until my voice could be heard.

The storm within me unleashed, and I looked Gray dead in the eye and stated firmly, "There's something I've been wanting to clear up with you."

Under the glow of the night light, I saw his brow crease with concern.

"Go on..."

I hardly recognized myself when I moved right up to him, allowing my breasts to press up against his chest. Gray towered over me in both height and muscle mass, but I wasn't the one who needed to be worried.

He was.

Slowly, I lifted my hand up to cup his cheek.

Upon contact, Gray drew in a sharp breath.

I kept my touch light and my tone hard when I murmured, "Earlier, you claimed that—you fucked Lydia because you couldn't have me, right?"

Gray eyed me warily, almost fearfully. "Yes?"

My fingertips continued to dance across his skin, lightly, teasingly. The sensation appeared to have a potent effect on him. His entire body tensed up against me.

I purred like a feline cornering a mouse, "Do you still want me, Gray?"

He swallowed. Hard. "Yes."

I rose on my tiptoes and pressed the lightest of kisses upon his right cheek, then his left cheek, and finally his lips. He groaned against my mouth, pulling me closer to deepen our kiss, and I let him have his way with me for a few more seconds.

Three—

Two—

One—

Abruptly, I pulled away.

He grunted in protest and gazed down at me with a dazed, confused expression.

I whispered, "Did it feel good to kiss me?"

"Yes!" he rasped without any hesitation.

Hope and wonder entered his eyes. Gray was now looking at me as though he couldn't believe his good fortune.

I demanded softly, "Better than Lydia?"

"It's not even comparable."

"Good," I said, "because Lydia will never be me. Because there's nothing you can do to replace the real fucking thing."

His eyes grew wide with alarm as he sensed my ire, "Gracie, I—"

"I'm my own person, and, when you love someone, when you truly love them," I interrupted with a hiss, "drunk or not, grieving or not, you wouldn't have settled for anything less. You wouldn't have tried to replace the real thing with a cheap knock-off, and you would've stayed to fight for our love!"

Gray's handsome face crumpled with despair as he groaned miserably, "You have no idea how much I agree—"

"It's getting late, I'm tired of this conversation," I snapped in dismissive tones, "and I've said everything I wanted to say about you and Lydia. Tomorrow is a new day. I'm ready to move on, and I hope you'll do the same."

He tried to speak up again, "Gracie—"

I cut him off, "Good night, Gray."

His expression grew grim as he muttered in defeat, "Night... Gracie."

Without another word, he stepped away from me and retreated towards the door.

Right before Gray exited the room, however, he glanced over his shoulder.

His voice drifted over in low, hoarse tones, "For what it's worth, I may have fucked up big time, but I never stopped loving you. I'll never stop loving you. This is the last and only time I plan to say this shit out loud because I'm not expecting anything in return. But you should know that you're 100% irreplaceable in my life. You always have been, and you always will be. There's no one like you, Gracie. I know this better than anyone, and I hate myself every goddamn day for fucking up my chance with you."

Then, he was gone before I even had time to open my mouth to form a reply.