“Xander, let’s talk about this.”
I pause at the door but don’t turn around. “Everything in my life that I thought was real was a lie. Fuck, even this house that belongs to me is a lie. It was willed to me by the two people I admired more than anyone in this world and they weren’t really mine. So what’s there to talk about?”
“Stop being such a fucking douchebag and sit down and talk to me.”
I open the door. “Fuck you.”
“You’re my brother and I’m concerned about you. Please talk to me.” His voice sounds just as shaky as mine.
Closing the door, I lean my head against the cool glass.
“You and me—we’re the same as we were two days ago. Nothing has changed. We’re always there for each other. We always have been. Come on, Xander, we’re the same two kids that grew up together, fought with each other, went to school together, took care of our drunk father, watched over our sister, looked out for our mother. We started our careers together. We know who we are. Whose DNA runs through your veins doesn’t change any of it.” His voice rising slightly, he adds, “None of it!”
I turn around and close the distance between us, taking a seat across from him.
I look at him for a long while before speaking. “You know, it’s weird, but I don’t feel any different. Both men are dead, so what’s it matter?”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s what I’m saying.”
I nod and try to put everything in perspective.
He looks me in the eye. “You know I love you, right?”
I roll my eyes. “I was just starting to think you had stopped being such a * and now you’re going to talk about feelings?”
River takes a serious tone. “No, Xander, I’m serious. I want to talk to you about Mom.”
One solid fucking hour we spend talking about how I need to go talk to my mother. I tell him I’m not ready. I mean, I’m still digesting that I’m not who I thought I was. All he keeps saying is that I’m the same person I’ve always been—and fuck, I know he’s right. I just need time. We slam our fists on the table, throw both our coffee cups across the room, and I almost walk out about a dozen times, but the storm passes and now we’re both lying on the huge L-shaped sofa in the living room reminiscing about our youth.
“You should take that ’Vette out of storage,” he says.
“I hate that fucking car,” I tell him.
“Really? Then why have you held on to it for all these years?”
“Because Grandpa bought it and he helped me get it running again after it sat in his garage for so long.”
“Xander, come on, I know as well as you do that you loved it that Dad gave that car to you. Do you know how pissed I was when I was finally able to drive and I begged Dad to make you share it with me and he said no. He actually said it was yours and yours only. Then when you wouldn’t even let me drive it—that pissed me off more than anything.”
“I forgot about that.”
We’re both quiet for the longest time, and I try to remember the last time I even set eyes on that car.
River sits up and breaks the silence. “Xander, I’ve got something to tell you.”
“Please, no more feelings. I can’t take any more of it.”
“Fuck off! I’m being serious.”
“Okay, what?”
“Damon shut the tour down. Everyone arrived home this morning.”
“What an asshole.” That’s all I can come up with because I can’t even think about work or the band.
After a few more minutes of silence, I’m tossing a basketball above my head. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you know anything about Dylan Wolf? What kind of person he was?”
“No,” he answers softly. “Can I ask you something?” he counters.
“Maybe,” I answer.
“Why do you think Damon made the announcement?”
My heart starts pounding and I bolt upright, tossing the ball aside. River’s eyes flare to mine. “I don’t know. But I’d wager it has something to do with money,” I say with a lump in my throat that I can’t swallow.
River frowns and crosses a leg over his knee. “Go on.”
“With everything that’s been going on with Ivy and the tour, he still kept it going. It had to be for the money. He could have given a shit about the band. Then his old man dies and he cancels the remaining shows even after I left. When I confronted him, he kept throwing things out there about me being like my father. I assumed he meant Nick, but he must have meant his brother.”
The doorbell rings. Blood rushes to my face and my shoulders stiffen. “Don’t answer it,” I bark.
River shrugs. “Don’t be a dick. You can’t stay locked up all day. People are looking to talk to you.”
“By people, you mean Mom?”
“Yeah, Mom, Jack, Bell, the band. Everyone that cares about you.”
“I’m not ready to talk to Mom.”