Dillon looked totally different with his bleach-blond hair and green eyes, and he wasn’t as tan back then. With his ink and piercings, his bulkier frame, additional height, and the little facial differences like his dimples, he didn’t look identical on the surface. But I slept beside him. I knew every inch of his body. Surely, I should have noticed something? Now that I reflect on it, the way he used to tilt his head to one side and rub the back of his neck is so like Reeve.
The clues were there, and I never picked up on them.
I feel like such an idiot until I remember Audrey met him too and she didn’t notice any resemblance either.
“Yes! That’s it,” Reeve exclaims, pulling me out of my inner monologue. “We saw you perform at the Oscars in February, didn’t we, Viv?”
“We did.” I force a smile on my face.
“Congrats on your win, by the way,” Dillon smoothly says. “I loved your acceptance speech.”
I sink a little lower in the couch. To anyone else, it would appear Dillon is sincere in his compliment. But I know it’s bullshit. I want to throw him out of my house, rewind to two weeks ago, and tell Carson Park not to tell us anything. That secrets are best left to die with their owners. Because there is no scenario where this ends well.
“Thanks. I’m sorry things didn’t go the band’s way that night,” Reeve says. Collateral Damage walked away empty-handed, but it’s still an enormous honor to be nominated for such a prestigious award.
Dillon shrugs, but I notice a muscle clenching in his jaw, and it’s clear Reeve inadvertently hit some kind of nerve.
Reeve drums his fingers on his knee, a telltale sign he’s nervous. “So, you grew up in Ireland? Viv spent some time there, and she loved it.” He smiles at me while my pulse throbs in my neck as liquid adrenaline courses through my veins. If Dillon is going to say anything, it will be now.
Dillon eyeballs me, and he has a pleasant smile on his face, but it’s as fake as mine. Reeve glances between us, his brow puckering in confusion.
“I did. Ireland is great,” I say, snuggling in closer to Reeve, wishing I could bury my face in his shoulder and cry my eyes out.
“Did you like growing up in Ireland?” Reeve asks him, his shoulders relaxing a little.
“It was good. I grew up on a farm with my adopted parents, three brothers, and my sister.”
Reeve’s eyes pop wide. “Wow, so you have brothers and a sister. That must’ve been nice.”
Dillon smiles, and it’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen on his face. “Yeah, it was cool. Things were fairly wild growing up as teenagers in Ireland.”
“Are you close to them?” Reeve asks, and I know he’s internally gauging where he’ll fit in Dillon’s life while I’m trying to figure out how to extract Reeve from this mess before he gets hurt.
“We’re a close family.” Dillon smiles as he looks pointedly at me, but this one doesn’t meet his eyes. “I’m especially close to my sister, Ash. She manages the band. And my younger brother Ro is our drummer.”
Ground, gobble me up now.
I swallow thickly over the messy ball of emotion clogging my throat, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Are you okay?” Reeve asks, tightening his arm around my shoulders.
“I’m fine.” I fake the biggest smile while it feels like my heart is breaking anew. Sitting here is excruciating on a variety of levels, but sitting across from the other love of my life and pretending like I don’t know him, like we don’t share tons of incredible memories, is tearing strips off my heart.
I don’t know why Dillon hasn’t said anything or what his motives are for being here, but the longer I sit here with the knowledge I have, the more painful it becomes. I’m close to cracking.
How can I keep who Dillon is to me from Reeve? If he is to form any relationship with his brother, I need to tell him about Dillon and me. How do I do that? And if I tell him, what will it mean for their relationship? What will it mean for ours? And what about Easton?
Oh God. The smile drops off my face, and I almost suffocate on the pain crawling up my throat.
Reeve opens his mouth, to ask me if I’m okay, I assume, and I need to redirect this conversation ASAP. “Did you know?” I blurt, looking at Dillon. “Did you know you were adopted?” Why didn’t you tell me? “Did you know who your bio parents were?”
“My parents told me I was adopted when I was six, so I’ve always known. I toyed with the idea of finding my birth parents as a teenager, but I didn’t pursue it.” He quirks a brow, and his brow ring lifts with the motion. “Why would I? I have the most amazing family. I didn’t need to find the parents who abandoned me.”