Awestruck

Prologue

"No!" I cried out as my throat began to constrict, and it got harder to breathe suddenly. "God, no!"

My brothers held me up from going down any further. I could see their panic-stricken faces saying stuff to me, but I couldn't hear anything. There was no sound anymore. I couldn't even hear my own voice, but I knew I was crying out louder than I ever had because my throat was on fire now. I couldn't breathe, and I clutched my chest, still trying to cry out in spite of it all.

I was surrounded by paramedics suddenly and other unfamiliar faces saying stuff I couldn't hear either. But I struggled to fight them too until, like the sound, all my other senses gave out and everything went white.

2-1/2 years prior

I never stood a chance. I should've known it from the moment she officially walked into my life that she'd so effortlessly bring me to my knees. After that night, she became a permanent fixture in my head. Maybe not always in the forefront of my thoughts in the very beginning, but there nonetheless. Always there.

While we were both born and raised in the smallish town of Huntsville, Kentucky, it wasn't until after I'd graduated from high school that the Hellman twins even made a blip on my radar. My youngest brother, Nolan—known to most as Mouth because he was always talking—had begun mentioning the twins his sophomore year in high school.

Madeline and Margaret Hellman, known around town as Maddie and Maggie, were all-American, blond, and bright-eyed identical twins. I'd seen them in and around town with their mama and grandma always fawning over them, but I'd never paid much attention. They were little girls as far as I was concerned—about fifteen or sixteen to my eighteen years when I first started hearing about them. Mostly, I just considered my brother so much younger and immature, and since they were in the same grade, I assumed they were too.

I'd been wrong.

As it goes in small towns, everybody knew everybody's business. At least a version of the truth. The story with the Hellman twins was like that of a lot of twins; they were polar opposites. One was far more outgoing and a spitfire compared to her more timid and demure sister. Of course, at first, I didn't know which was which and didn't care enough to inquire further. All I knew was Nolan had a thing for Maggie—the quiet one. They shared a few classes, and he'd nudge me or point her out anytime we happened to see them around town.

By the time they were just a little older and he'd point them out, I'd begun doing double takes. In the short time I'd become more aware of them, they'd gone from the little girls I'd dubbed them to the stars in the wet dreams of every teenage boy in town. Long honey blond hair. Big baby blues you could appreciate even from across a crowded farmers market. Which happened a lot since my brothers and I often accompanied our grandmother to the farmers market.

On one of those trips to the open market, I first noticed more than just the physical stuff, like the legs that went on forever with curves that could make even grown men turn. I knew because I was one of them. Granted, I was almost nineteen now that I'd begun with the double takes. Still, I was an adult, and they couldn't have been much older than sixteen.

This week my brother Joaquin aka Quino and I were the ones who would be helping Ama, as we call Grandma, lug her veggies and fruits around as she shopped. Quino and I were chatting with Roy, the garlic guy who'd been a vendor here since I was a kid, when I overheard that familiar, sweet laugh.

I turned to see the twins with their mother and grandma. One of them was pushing their grandma around in a wheelchair. They'd stopped as one of them applied what looked like sun block on their grandma's face. I immediately knew which was which, even though Madeline wasn't even facing me. The continued laughter was the dead giveaway.

While Margaret stood behind her grandmother's wheelchair, smiling but not laughing like Madeline, her more animated sister continued to giggle as she applied a generous amount of the stuff on her grandma, who didn't seem thrilled about it. For as much as her grandmother was frowning, it was obvious Madeline's laugh was contagious, and the corners of her grandmother's lips twitched upwards a few times. I even caught myself smiling.

"They grew up fast."

I turned to Quino, who was looking in the twins' direction then back at me with a lifted brow. Shrugging it off, I brought my eyes back to Roy's garlic stand and pointed at the sign. "I'll take some garlic fries."

"Coming right up."

"I guess," I said to Quino, who was still eyeing me curiously.

Seeing as I wasn't about to get any deeper into a conversation about the twins, Quino changed the subject to talk about the shop. My family owned the embroidery shop in town. We had a lot of biker clubs coming through here, and Cortez Embroidery Designs had made a name for itself—not just in Huntsville but with biker clubs from all over, which often made our shop a stop on one of their runs. They got a lot of their biker accessories, like their leather goods, embroidered by us, and tomorrow one club was scheduled to make a stop.

"Xavier just texted me," Quino said, motioning to his phone. "They got the delivery just now. It's a big one."

"Perfect," I said, taking the fries from Roy and handing him my money. "Just in time."

Xavier was the third of my three brothers, and we all knew the drill. Anytime one of these biker clubs rode through town, we had to make the most of the opportunity. So, we made sure to stock up just for the occasion.

We shared the fries as we talked about how we'd have our hands full tonight unloading all that inventory and putting it on display in time for tomorrow. As Ama moved along the market, from one vendor to another, Quino and I followed along, holding her accumulating bags, and continued to discuss the shop. Though I was often distracted from the laughter that was never too far in the distance.

At one point, I got caught up watching as Madeline's family stopped at one of the few vendors not selling food. Madeline giggled as she tried different sunglasses on her grandmother. It was easy to differentiate her bubbly personality from her sister's more reserved one. Despite the constant mischief that danced in Madeline's eyes, something about her take-charge personality seemed to be the life or center somehow of her little family's dynamic.

Not even until the drive home when Madeline was long out of sight did I realize something else. It wasn't just her ever-smiling demeanor that I'd been distracted by time and time again throughout our time at the farmers market. She was also the far more affectionate of the two. While she'd been playful and seemed to be doing a lot of teasing, she was also quick to lean over and kiss her grandmother on the head more than once. She brought her arm around her sister several times, and many of the times I'd inevitably turned in her direction, her arm was hooked into her mother's as they walked along happily.

In every instance, I'd found myself inadvertently smiling. But it wasn't until the drive home that it hit me. She reminded me of my mother. My mother died when I was just a kid, and many of the memories of her had faded over the years, but the one thing I'd always remember about her was how happy and loving she'd always been. I was too young to know it then, but at that moment, it dawned on me. My mother had been the light of my life—the light of all our lives. She'd been the Madeline in our family: the eternal giver of love and affection to everyone from my father to Ama—her mother-in-law—to each of her boys. There was nothing she couldn't make better for any of us, and like Madeline, she had the ability to light up a room just by entering it.

As bittersweet as the memories were, I was relieved. It made sense now why I'd be so distracted by her, despite knowing I had no business being intrigued in any other way by her. As thoughts of my mother distracted me, by the time we dropped Ama and her groceries home, thoughts of Madeline were overshadowed with sweet memories of my mother. And by the time we arrived at the shop to start unloading the new inventory, the niggle of worry I'd begun to feel about my fascination with the young girl was completely gone. It had been just like one of the many other things that brought on sudden memories of my mother that so easily could change my mood and entire frame of mind.

At least I thought it was.

Every time I saw Madeline after that day, I was inexplicably awestruck. Everything about her was breathtaking now. Breathtaking enough that I'd begun concentrating on not getting caught up each time. And then it happened. I met Ama for lunch at a local café. Ama lived with us, but she worked three hours a day as a teacher's aide at the local elementary school. Had for as long as I could remember. So occasionally, we met up after her shift and during my lunch hour and grabbed something, before she headed home and I headed back to the shop.

We were halfway through our meal when in walked the Hellman women: Madeline, Maggie, their mother Ms. Hellman, and they wheeled in their grandmother. As usual, it was impossible not to be drawn to them—her. In my defense, I wasn't the only one in that café who turned and looked. My grandmother and a few others did as well. Only I was incapable of keeping my eyes from roaming in their direction for too long.

More alarming, I was pretty damn sure now I could absolutely tell them apart, despite how identical they were. Margaret smiled enough and her smile was just as sweet. She even had that hint of mischief in her eyes like Madeline, yet Margaret seemed to be holding back as if she had a secret.