Torn in two

Chapter 17

My stomach summersaults like it's warming up for an Olympian level gymnastics tournament. But in practicality, my mind already knew the conversation was going to be tough. Maybe it was a twin thing. Or maybe it was intuition. But it knew I wasn't going to like what I was about to hear.
I park in the driveway and notice the Civic was back in the lot.
Good, he's home.
I take a couple breaths to steady myself before opening the door.
Once inside, the smell of enchiladas baking in the oven fill my nose.
"I hope you're hungry. I didn't know when you'd be home. You didn't text me back," Greg calls from the kitchen.
I was in no means hungry.
I place my keys in the bowl by the door and walk over to the breakfast bar.
"Hey," I plant a forceful smile on my face.
"Hey yourself, stranger," he teases.
I can only frown.
"What's wrong?" He asks, noticing my face.
But I can't get myself to answer.
"Is Cindy not okay? Was more than just her window vandalized?" He asks with worry filled eyes.
And the stab I felt in my chest only further confirms he had something to do with the break in.
"Cut the shit, Greg," I spat.
Unbelievable, he's still trying to keep this façade going.
Anger raged through me staining my cheeks red. 
He should have known the moment he declined coming to Cindy's I would know he had something to do with it.
"I know it was you," I whisper.
I close my eyes and brace myself for whatever he was about to say.
"Look," he heavily sighs and I open my eyes.
"I owe some people some money who helped me open the club," he grabs the bridge of his nose, clearly stressed.
Or maybe out of annoyance?
I was having a hard time reading his expressions lately. I didn't realize how much that upset me until this very moment. I was always able to just glance at him and was able to tell what he was feeling, but not anymore. The twin bond would definitely be more useful now, rather then back when we were all but five-years-old stealing conchas from the bakery. 
"How much?" My eyebrows pinching together in concern.
"A lot," he vaguely answers.
However, for owing people a lot of money, he didn't seem as stressed as I would have been.
"I can help you pay them off," I offer.
I hate seeing my brother like this. He's not himself. He was starting to not even look like himself. He was getting thinner despite the newly added muscles. I knew he started going to the gym but he was starting to look too different.
He began shaking his head in protest to my offer.
Fine, then. For being twins, he was probably more stubborn than I was.
Was he scared?
Of what, though?
"Who?" I probe further.
"It doesn't matter who," his tone raises, warning me to stop pressing for information.
"It does matter! They broke into Cindy's house while your ass sat at home! So tell me who," I screech.
I've never talked to my brother like this in all of our twenty-six years on this Earth.
How does he not see the severity of this?
His lips press into a straight line.
He wasn't going to tell me.
"She's our family!" I growl.
"Yeah, well, they're my family too," he blurts out.
His eyes widen by his slip up.
"Who is? A bunch of thugs?" I spit.
He runs both of his hand through his dark hair.
He looks as if telling me would result in an injury.
"No, Nikki," he sighs for the hundredth time since my ten minutes of being home.
"I'm in the Mexican Mafia," his eyes bore into mine.