Serenity

by Rochelle Paige

  Faith had been the one to drag me out of that darkness. She quickly became the most important thing in my life, and I loved her with all my heart.

  But right now I was angry.

  And confused.

  And more than a little freaked out at the idea of a part of my brother living inside her. She’d filled the emptiness inside me as corny as that sounded. I’d thought it was because she was perfect for me; like my mom was for my dad. That fate had finally taken pity on me and decided to put me out of my misery and gave me someone to love. That it was all happenstance.

  Only I didn’t know what the fuck to think anymore. A piece of my twin lived inside her. Maybe the instant pull I’d felt when I first saw her wasn't Faith at all. Maybe it was my connection to my brother.

  “Fuck,” I groaned again.

  If I tried to talk it out with Faith feeling the way I did at the moment, things were going to get ugly. I was too pissed and confused to watch my words, and I was likely to take my anger out on her. Even with my mind reeling, I didn’t want to say things to her I could never take back. I couldn’t stand the idea that I might hurt her in a way she could never forgive.

  “I need to go.” I stood up and strode into the house, grabbing my keys from the hook by the door.

  “Dillon, no!” she cried. “Don’t go. I get that you probably don’t know what to think. Neither do I. But we love each other, and we’re supposed to face the hard stuff together. Right?”

  I paused at the door, knowing in my head that she was right. It was hypocritical of me to force her to open up to me in the past only to walk away right now. But I knew I needed time. Time that maybe she’d already had considering how distant she’d been with me lately.

  “When did you find the letter?” I continued on before giving her a chance to answer. “How long have you known about this?”

  Her silence was damning.

  “How fucking long, Faith?” I yelled. “If I had to guess, I’d say it was about a week ago. The day you went shopping with my mom, right? That’s when you stopped sleeping well. When you started to pull away from me. But it couldn’t have been that long because that would mean you’ve kept this from me all this time.”

  “Dillon,” she sighed. “I didn’t know what to say.”

  “So all those times I asked you what was bothering you, and you said you were fine? You were just lying to me?”

  “I needed time to figure it all out in my head,” she tried to explain.

  “Yeah, time to figure things out sounds pretty damn good to me,” I growled. “And you’re going to give to me what you took for yourself.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, starting to cry openly. “I guess I deserve that.”

  “Don’t push me right now, Faith. Don’t try to make me feel guilty for being angry. This wasn’t something small you chose not to share with me. It’s really fucking huge.”

  “It’s not my fault!” she argued. “I didn’t know what to do. How to tell you. I was scared.”

  “Declan was important to me. You knew that and you chose to keep this a secret for an entire week,” I countered.

  “I’m sorry.” She looked so fucking sad. But as much as it killed me to see her like that, I couldn’t let it sway me from what I needed to do. Before I could work through things with us, I needed to figure out my own damn self.

  “So am I,” I replied before walking out the door with no idea when I would return.

  Chapter Five

  Dillon

  I drove around for several hours before heading to a casino with a hotel attached to it. I checked in to a room and proceeded to drink myself into oblivion. I’d mostly avoided alcohol since the night of the crash, but in that moment I felt like I needed a drink more than I needed my next breath of air. And I drank it like it was water.

  When I woke up the next day, it was early afternoon. Food was the last thing on my mind, but I ordered room service. Another bottle of vodka. I didn’t bother with any mixers and drank it straight up. No ice either. My goal was to consume enough to forget, and that’s exactly what I did for several days.

  When that wasn’t cutting it for me, I took a shower and headed down to the tables. If alcohol wasn’t enough to numb the pain, then gambling was sure to do it. But my mind wasn’t in the game, and I lost a decent chunk of money. Not that I cared. I felt like it was no less than I deserved. Only then I started winning, and it just pissed me off even more. So I bailed on the casino and headed to one of the clubs where I used to be able to find underground poker games.

  It’d been more than eight months since I’d been there, but the doorman was the same and he recognized me. I got a chin lift before he lifted the red rope and let me through. The people waiting in line complained, but it was a perk to having previously been a regular and I sure as shit wasn’t in the mood to apologize for it. I slid a twenty into his palm and walked inside, hitting up the bar and then heading towards the back where another bouncer manned the door that led downstairs to where the poker games were held.

  When I reached him, I pulled my wallet from my pocket and retrieved a coin from behind my driver’s license. It’d been given to me several years ago when I’d first discovered the games, and without it you couldn’t get in. The bouncer took it from me and flipped it over, examining both sides before handing it back and opening the door.

  I headed down the stairs, downing my double vodka on the way. It didn’t take long for the owner of the club, Grant Michaels, to notice me and stride towards me.

  “Dillon Montgomery.” He held out his hand, and I moved my empty glass to my left so I could shake it. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Too long,” I grunted. I’d forgotten the rush I felt when I was down here. It was exactly what I needed to take my mind off how fucked up my life was at the moment. I shouldn’t have wasted time at the casino and headed straight here.

  “We’re glad to have you back.” His blue eyes scanned my face, and if I hadn’t known what an unfeeling bastard he was I might’ve thought they held a hint of concern. “Were you looking for anything in particular tonight?”

  “I was thinking seven card stud or five card draw. High stakes.”

  He lifted one dark brow. On him, it was an arrogant gesture. Then again, pretty much everything was. “The latter goes without saying or else you wouldn’t be here.”

  That was why he more than had the right to be arrogant. He owned several successful nightclubs in town and ran a poker ring that probably pulled in more money than all of the bars combined. The people who played at his tables had serious money, and they weren’t afraid to risk a lot of it when they were gambling. And Grant didn’t let them do it without taking his cut.

  “I think we’ve got a couple of games that might interest you.” He waved over one of his hostesses and instructed her to take me to tables two and four.

  She fluttered her eyelashes at him and leaned forward, practically begging him to notice her tits. When he barely glanced at her, her expression fell for a moment before she pulled herself back together and smiled at me seductively. I wasn’t interested, so I gave her a quick shake of my head and gestured for her to lead the way to the tables Grant had mentioned. I didn’t like the feel of the five card draw game and opted to settle in at the seven card stud table instead.

  I pulled a stack of thirty one-hundred dollar bills and dropped them onto the table. The dealer slid stacks of chips across to me. I tossed my chips in for the ante. My leg started to bounce while I waited for the hole cards to be dealt. I glued my gaze to the table as she dropped the first round of up cards in front of each of the players. My five of hearts was the lowest value showing, so it was up to me to make the first bet and bring it in. My down cards weren’t much help, but I was in the mood to play dangerously so I went with the full amount of the small bet instead of just the ante again.

  “Call,” the player to the left of me said.

  “Raise.”

  I heard a variation of that from each of
the players at the table before it was up to me to meet the raise or fold. I tossed more chips onto the table and waited for the next round of up cards to be dealt. By the time I had seven cards in front of me, there was almost a thousand dollars of my money at stake. It was down to me and a player two seats to my left since everyone else had folded. His up cards were better than mine, but I had the impression that his best ones were showing. If I was right, I’d win the game because my down cards gave me a straight. But if he had two more tens in the hole to go with the pair he had showing, then he’d beat me with four of a kind.

  I started to doubt myself when he went with the big bet on the final round. But I was already in deep, so I called. Then I sorted my cards to line up the five which gave me a straight and moved the two dead cards off to the side, face down. Since I was the one to call, my opponent placed their cards face up on the table first. He looked so damn smug when he flashed me his three of a kind that I couldn’t help but chuckle when I tossed my straight on the table. The money didn’t matter to me, but it was always nice to beat someone when they thought for sure that they had you. That hand almost wiped the guy out, and he rolled a couple of chips towards the dealer before collecting what remained and pushing away from the table.

  I played a few more hands, losing two and winning another, before Grant settled in the chair next to me. It must have been a signal to everyone else because the dealer and few players who were left all got up to leave. His gaze dropped to the half-full glass of vodka near my right hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink when you’re playing.”

  He wouldn’t have since I’d never had a drop of alcohol at one of this tables before. “You haven’t.”

  “Although the background checks my security team perform on my underground clients include a wealth of personal information, I like to keep things professional.”

  That wasn’t much of a surprise. I wasn’t shocked to learn he looked into the people who received a coin to gamble in his place, and I’d already noticed he kept himself separate from pretty much everyone. What I didn’t know was why he was bringing it up. “Okay.”

  “It’s a very rare occasion when I’m moved to offer unsolicited advice.”

  Fuck. Now I knew where this was headed. “And this is one of those times?”

  “Indeed it is.” He raised a tumbler of amber colored liquid to his lips and took a gulp. I mirrored the action with my vodka, figuring I could use the extra fortification. I discovered how right I was when he continued. “We have more in common than you realize. We were both raised in wealthy families. Had every advantage money could give us. Would’ve given it all up if it meant we didn’t lose a sibling in our teens. And we spiraled afterwards. I stood by and watched while you did it. I held back and didn’t interfere, but I was happy as fuck when you stopped coming around because I figured it meant you’d come to terms with your loss. I had my guy check into it and found out you met a girl. Fell in love and moved her into your house, didn’t you?”

  I nodded as I shot back the rest of my vodka.

  “Then tell me this, Dillon. What the fuck are you doing here when the woman you love is waiting at home for you?”

  Shit. When I heard it out loud like that, it was a damn good question. The situation we found ourselves in was fucked up, but it wasn’t Faith’s fault any more than it was mine. Drinking hadn’t helped, and neither had gambling. Only one thing would—getting some answers from my parents.

  Chapter Six

  Dillon

  I headed straight to their house, walked inside, and shouted, “Mom! Dad! Where are you?”

  It was barely six in the morning, and my dad ran down the stairs half-dressed for work in suit pants and a white T-shirt without any socks or a dress shirt. My mom came running towards us from the kitchen in a nightgown and robe.

  “Where the hell have you been?” my dad asked when he caught sight of me mid-way down the stairs. “When I told you that you were doing a good job and could leave on time, I didn’t mean that you could disappear for days on end with only a single text to tell us you’d gotten into an argument with Faith and needed us to check on her. You could’ve at least bothered to call your mother and let her know you were alive.”

  My mom rushed towards me. “But now he’s standing right here, so stop yelling at him and let him tell us what’s wrong.”

  When she reached out to give me a hug, I took a step back and shook my head. “I have some questions.”

  My mom looked devastated that I wouldn’t let her hug me. She stood perfectly still, her hands still stretched towards me as her skin paled and tears filled her eyes. “About what, honey?”

  “Declan.”

  All it took was the mention of my dead twin’s name for the tears in my mom’s eyes to overflow and spill down her cheeks. He’d been gone for five years, and we hardly ever talked about him because the pain was so overwhelming. For all of us. But the time had finally come for me to get the answers that I should have demanded after the accident.

  My dad moved to my mom’s side. He wrapped his arm around her and led her over to the couch in the living room off the foyer. Mom patted the cushion next to her, and I sat down. When she grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly, I could tell she was trying to gather herself. Dad dropped down on the opposite side of her and took hold of her other hand.

  “When I woke up after the crash, an entire month had passed.” I scrubbed my hands over my face. My eyes started to sting, and I pressed my fingers against them. “As devastated I was when you told me that Declan had died in the accident, I was so relieved that he hadn’t suffered. Even if it meant that I missed his burial and couldn’t visit his grave until after I’d fully recovered from my own injuries.”

  “We know, son.” My dad reached over and gripped my arm. “If we had known you were going to wake up when you did, we wouldn’t have buried him without you. It’s something we regretted, and we’re so sorry.”

  His easy apology only made what I had to say next that much harder. “No, I understand why you did it that way. There was no way of knowing when I would wake up, and you couldn’t wait forever. But because everything was so fucked up, I never really asked any questions.”

  “What kind of questions?” my dad asked.

  “Ones I should have asked back then,” I mumbled.

  “You were recovering,” my mom excused me. “You had just woken up from a coma and had your own serious injuries to contend with.”

  “But he was my twin!” I railed. “And I didn’t even ask you any questions about his death. We never really talked about him once I got out of the hospital. It was like this huge piece of me was torn from the world and I just let it go without a second thought. I let him go.”

  “You didn’t,” my mom argued. “Not really. You changed so much after the accident. Declan was always the serious one and you were such a jokester. He never put off for tomorrow what could be done today, and you always waited until the very last minute. Although you were identical twins, you each had such different personalities. Then he was gone, and you weren’t yourself anymore. It was more than just recovering from your own injuries, which were severe on their own. But the loss of Declan, it changed you.”

  “Your mom is right,” Dad agreed. “I don’t know when the last time was that I heard you tell a joke.”

  “And I never had to push you to get your homework done when you went back to school.”

  Dad nodded. “You even made sure all your college stuff was sent in early.”

  I realized they were right. When I woke up after the accident, I felt like I had to make up for Declan’s loss in some way. “Maybe in a way, I was trying to live both our lives.”

  “And as hard as it was for us to stand by and watch, we knew that you were using gambling as your outlet for when it got to be too much.”

  “We understood because we were angry at the world too,” my mom added. “A parent should never have to live through the death of a child. The stages of gri
ef are relentless and every day you feel like a piece of you is missing.”

  Rationally, I knew their loss was as big as mine. Maybe even bigger because even though Declan was my twin, he was their son. But knowing about their pain and understanding how in the hell Faith could’ve ended up with his kidney inside her a month after he was supposed to have died were two different things. “That’s why I’m struggling so much with this. He was my identical twin. We’d been together from the moment of conception and for every day of our lives until that damn accident. Only to find out years later that you guys lied to me about how he died. When he died. It’s killing me.”

  “Oh my God,” my mom cried, burying her face in my dad’s chest. “He knows.”

  “That Declan didn’t die until a month after the crash? Yeah, I know.”

  My dad’s gaze locked with mine, and I was surprised to see what I thought might be relief in his eyes. “How’d you find out?”

  I pulled the letters out of the front pocket of my jeans, smoothed them out, and handed them to him. “Faith stumbled across the truth when she reached out to her donor family to say thank you. The transplant center offered to forward her letter to them, and they sent it to you.”

  “What?” My mom’s head jerked up, and she yanked the letters from my dad’s hands. Her reaction answered any questions I’d had about her possibly knowing about Faith’s connection to Declan and that being the reason why she’d reached out to her in the first place. “Faith’s kidney came from Declan? That’s what your argument was about? No wonder she was so distant with us when we tried to talk to her on Thursday.”

  “She must be the patient the surgeon was talking about when—”