“Nice silk stitch,” he said, peering over her shoulder at her embroidery hoop.

“Leave me,” she muttered, focusing very hard on the shell of the little turtle she was creating.

“No, thank you. Snogging Will in the garden, yeah?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. She’d known last night would backfire on her. It was entirely Will’s fault for being perfect and enticing and upset and so adorable when he was drunk, and for saying shit that was honest and earnest and so close to perfect it made her feel nauseous with fear.

That in itself was the problem.

Working hard to keep her voice unembarrassed, Abbie said, “Bring that up again and I will sneak into your room at night and shave your precious beard.”

“As if you’d do your own brother like that. You know I’ve got no jawline.”

“Try me.”

Jase laughed, but there was concern in his voice when he spoke again. “I thought you’d be happy. He’s into you, you’re into him, he’s already family—it’s so … tidy. You love tidy.”

Abbie dropped her hoop and glared up at her brother. “There’s nothing tidy about it, Jason. What’s going to happen when we—?”

“What?”

She sighed and shook her head.

“Oh, what the fuck. Seriously? You’re already thinking about it going south?”

“Whatever,” Abbie muttered. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Abs,” Jase said gently, moving to sit beside her. “I understand why you worry about this stuff. Really, I do. But—Look. Feel free to punch me if I’m being patronising, but you know it’s okay to trust Will, right? He’s not a bad guy.”

Abbie looked up with a frown. “Of course he’s not. He’s the best guy. I’m worried about me.” Only when the words were out of her mouth did she realise how true they were. It was exactly what she’d told Will—or tried to tell him, anyway—last night, but she didn’t know how to explain it to anyone around her. “You don’t understand. None of you do. You’re all so fucking well-adjusted.”

Jase choked out a laugh. “Well-adjusted? Abbie. Are you serious?”

“Fine, you’re all nuts, but you don’t get this.”

Jase’s expression softened as he slung an arm around her shoulders. “Well, explain it to me, then.”

Her throat felt tight. “You know I don’t enjoy talking about … feelings.”

“You and me both,” he muttered. “But since you and Will clearly can’t get it together on your own—”

“We’re not getting anything together,” she shot back.

“But you want to.”

Sometimes having a twin was quite awful. He sort of followed her about, showing up when it was least convenient, seeing things no one on earth was supposed to see. “Yes,” she admitted softly. “I want to. I wish I could. But if the last couple of days have shown me anything, it’s that I’m just not ready.”