Chapter 50

“I made the appointment. Dr. Lin will be here within the hour,” Ryland comments as he settles into a chair in our reserved room inside the gentlemen’s club at The Orchid.

He hands me a glass of water. I wince as I reach for it. Aside from a nasty gash on my forehead and bruised ribs, I was lucky I made it out alive from the crash two days ago.

I was such a damn fool.

A few mirthless chuckles slip from my lips, and I shake my head in self-derision.

“Why did you suddenly ask me to find a shrink for you?” he asks, his brows furrowed.

I stare at the lone ember in the fireplace, watching the dying spark glow before a sudden draft sweeps in, causing the small flame to twist and burgeon, the fire catching, fighting, winning against the cold air threatening to snuff it out.

The same fire is inside me now, and it only took a near-death experience for me to realize I couldn’t live in fear anymore.

Of Belle getting hurt. Of my anxiety. Of all the unfortunate events I used to attribute to the damn curse.

“I don’t want to hide anymore,” I murmur, turning my gaze to my twin, my best friend. I filled him in on the medical examiner’s findings.

When he went through his troubles with Millie months ago, I was angry he kept everything to himself, that he didn’t confide in me. But I realize I’m the same way.

I haven’t set a good example .

After taking a deep breath, I continue, “The curse took too much from me—I’d been a slave to it, scared shitless to be honest. It was easier to lock myself inside the mansion and avoid crowds, emotions, and human connection. We were raised to believe in it, and after Sydney, I never once considered it could be anything but the curse.”

I swallow, my nose burning. “And so, I let it run my life. The more I hid, the more I convinced myself I was safe. From my anxiety, from more death and tragedy.”

Ryland’s eyes glitter and he locks his jaw.

“I thought—maybe if I didn’t confront my anxiety, I’d have an excuse to hide forever. Maybe if I convinced myself I had flaws, whether they were the scars on my body, or,” I tap my temple, “up here, I could continue avoiding human connection.”

“Fuck,” Ryland murmurs, his eyes downcast. “You got those gashes on your body because of me. If I was more careful when we were hunting—”

“No. I held onto those scars like a shield. Truth is, I never regretted what happened that day. I’d save you a thousand times over.”

He knots his hands on his lap and stays silent.

“Belle actually taught me my scars were beautiful. There weren’t flaws. She refused to stay away even when I hid from her and pushed her away.”

My voice thickens. “And when I slammed into that guardrail the other night, when I thought those were my last moments on earth, I realized what an idiot I was.”

Leaning forward, I release a ragged exhale. “If I’d died that night, my last actions to Belle would’ve been hurting her, not loving her, because dammit, I do. I fucking love her. She’s it for me. I should’ve listened to her, talked to her, figured out a path forward together. Even if the medical examiner didn’t call, I shouldn’t have taken the choice away from her. ”

“Fuck, Maxwell,” Ryland mutters, shaking his head. He lifts his face, his eyes shining with moisture. “Fuck. You were always the smarter man between the two of us.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “No. I was the stupid one who got a second chance at life. And after I crashed my car and had another panic attack, I realized I needed to address this anxiety inside me, this fear that led me to hide from everyone. That’s why I had you make the appointment, because you mentioned knowing a shrink.”

“It was actually Steven who gave me the recommendation. His sister works with a therapist in LA, a Marybeth Connors, who had connections here as well, and Dr. Lin came highly recommended.”

Ryland smiles, and I see the happy kid in the family portrait again—the boy who laughed a lot, the charismatic, popular guy at school, the one who became more stoic in the years after Sydney’s death.

“There’s also something else I want to tell you,” I murmur, holding his gaze. It’s time to pull out the thorn that has been buried in my side all these years.

He frowns and cocks his head.

“I knew Sydney loved you back then.”

Blood drains from his face and he opens his mouth to speak.

I hold up my hand. “I overheard you two when she confessed to you outside our bedrooms. I never told you because I didn’t want you to feel bad, because I knew you would’ve blamed yourself for getting in between us and would’ve piled a shitload of unnecessary crap on your conscience.”

“Shit,” he rasps. “I didn’t…I was never with her—”

“I know. I know you wouldn’t betray me that way. But she came in between us, didn’t she? Even long after I fell out of love with her. She was a ghost that lingered behind, right?”

He swallows and nods. “I thought if you didn’t know, I’d spare you more pain.”

“We were both thinking of each other and not being honest. Just like I was with most of my life. Hiding. It didn’t help shit. ”

Ryland chuckles and swipes his hand over his face. “Fuck man, I didn’t know you were carrying this all by yourself the entire time.”

“Just like I didn’t know you felt burdened being the face of the company. Two fucking peas in a pod, asshole.”

He snickers. “You’re the asshole.”

Knock. Knock.

“Come in,” I call out.

The door opens and in strides a woman with glossy black hair and glasses, who I presume is Dr. Lin. She looks to be around Lana’s age and is younger than I thought, but I trust Steven’s judgment. Ryland slowly gets up and clasps my shoulder. “Brothers forever.”

He holds up his wrist and flashes his bracelet. “I’m so proud of you for getting help.”

I smile and nod. He quietly slips out of the room as I stand and extend my hand toward the doctor.

“Hi, I’m Maxwell Anderson, and I need your help.” Acid roils in my gut and makes its way up my throat. I take a deep breath and force out the next words. “I have severe social anxiety and, quite possibly, PTSD.”

I won’t let the monsters inside me win again.