“Holy freaking hell,” I mumbled under my breath, standing on what must have been the biggest porch in the history of the world. It wrapped around the front of an enormous brick house that was at the end of a long, winding driveway. There was a detached five-car garage off to the left of the house, in addition to the attached three-car one to the right.

I knew the Montgomerys had money, but I’d never imagined the kind of wealth it took to own a property like this. Not even with all Elaine had done for my group of students. Their house was more an estate than a home, with a perfectly cut lawn as far as the eye could see. And I was almost positive I’d seen horses out in the distance when we’d turned off from the road onto their driveway.

I’d been excited all morning about joining Elaine, her husband, and Dillon for the holiday. Then the town car had arrived to pick me up, and I was a little nervous along with a whole lot grateful for the ride because the drive was about thirty minutes and the car was incredibly comfortable. And free.

But now that I’d been dropped off on their doorstep, I was nervous as hell and wondering if I’d made the right decision when I’d accepted Elaine’s invitation. But it was too late to change my mind since the car had already pulled around the circular drive and was on its way back to the road.

Then the door opened, and Dillon was standing in front of me with a welcoming smile. Staring up at him, I forgot why I’d started to second-guess myself in the first place.

“Hi.” I added a quick wave with my free hand and clutched the container filled with cookies with the other as I held it out to him. “I brought some no-bake pumpkin cookies for dessert.”

Dillon’s eyes lit with humor, but not in a way that said he was making fun of my awkwardness. It was more like he appreciated it, as crazy as that was. “I wonder if I can sneak them past my mom and dad? I love all things pumpkin, and it’d be great if I could keep these all to myself.”

Elaine swept past him, grabbing the container from Dillon’s hands before she moved forward to wrap me up in a quick hug. “If anyone gets to hoard the pumpkin cookies, it’s me. It’s only right since I’m the one who invited Faith to join us today.”

“Hey, no fair!” Dillon complained, trying to take the cookies back from his mom. It was hilarious watching her keep them away from him when he had about six inches and at least fifty pounds on her. There was no doubt he could’ve taken them from her if he’d wanted, but instead, he let her win the scuffle easily. I found it sweet; how Dillon was gentle with his mom.

It sent those butterflies swirling again, but in a different way than before. They weren’t because of how hot he was; even though his short-sleeved shirt was tight and did amazing things for his chest, shoulders, and arms. This kind of butterfly was trickier than the ones caused by the chemistry between us. They couldn’t be ignored quite as easily...because they were the first sign I was starting to develop feelings for him. Of course, I had to realize it right when I was standing in front of his parents. And it was the first time I met his father. Because that was just my luck.

At least I was good at shoving my feelings into a box and storing them away for later...or never. Because the habit came in handy when Dillon’s dad stepped around his wife and son and held his hand out to me.

“Ignore them. I do it all the time when they’re like this,” he suggested as we shook hands.

“Hey!” Elaine cried, sounding exactly like her son had just moments ago.

Her husband flashed her a playful grin that reminded me of Dillon’s smile. “You know it’s true.”

“Yes, but you don’t need to tell everyone about it,” she chided.

“But Faith isn’t just anyone. I’ve been hearing about her from you since August.” He turned his grin on me. “And then there’s Dil—”

A gasp burst from my throat when Elaine slapped her hand over his mouth. It turned into a giggle when Dillon tugged on my hand to lead me past his parents, saying, “My dad is the one who had it wrong. They’re the ones you should ignore when they’re acting like this, which is pretty much all of the time.”

I thought they all had it wrong. The way Dillon’s family interacted with each other was special, and nobody should ignore that kind of beauty. Ever.

“I actually kind of like it.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to spend time with a family who’s so happy together.” My gaze swept across the foyer and into the living room, taking in all of the autumn-themed decorations. “To celebrate a holiday that’s all about giving thanks when I actually have a decent-sized list of things for which I’m grateful.”

“That’s such a sweet thing to say.” Elaine squeezed my shoulder as they joined us.

“We’re happy to have you with us,” his dad said.

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery.”

“Call me Lloyd, please.”

I hadn’t hesitated when I’d met Elaine and she’d told me the same thing. His request wasn’t any different—it even made more sense for him to make the offer because I wasn’t a complete stranger to him like I’d been with Elaine back when we’d had lunch in August. I was friends with his wife. I was...whatever word someone would use to describe what was happening between Dillon and me.

But it didn’t feel as natural using Mr. Montgomery’s first name. Probably because I’d never had any positive male role models in my life, except for the doctors who’d saved it. So I paused for what felt like a moment too long before replying, “Thank you, Lloyd.”

Dillon stepped closer, his hand going to the small of my back. I took comfort in the gesture. Settled into his touch. Appreciated how he must’ve made the move because he’d sensed my discomfort and wanted to do something to ease it.

Elaine smiled, her eyes darting down to the small amount of space between us. “Why don’t you give Faith a little tour while your dad and I go check on how dinner is doing in the kitchen?”

I felt the muscles in Dillon’s arm tense and turned to look up at him. His dark eyes were wide, and he was shaking his head. “Do you think that’s a good idea? Because I don’t.”

“You set fire to one turkey, and they judge your cooking skills forever,” Lloyd muttered, tugging on Elaine’s hand as they walked away.

“Do you like Chinese?” Dillon asked oddly.

“I heard that!” Lloyd yelled, making Elaine giggle.

“I feel like I missed something.” I cocked my head to the side, giving Dillon a questioning look that wrinkled my brow. “Your dad set fire to a turkey?”

“And a big section of the backyard,” he laughed. “C’mon, I’ll start the tour there so I can show you.”

He kept his hand on my back while he guided me through several rooms and led me through a set of French doors which opened to a stone paved patio that was even bigger than the front porch. We walked to the top of the steps that led down to the lawn, and Dillon pointed to the left. “Do you see the line in the grass there? Where the green changes to a slightly lighter shade?”

I held a hand to my forehead to block the glare from the sun and narrowed my eyes while I focused on the area he was pointing at. “Maybe?”

“It’s hard to spot because my dad had the landscapers change out the sod three times until they got as close a match as possible,” he explained.

“Your dad set fire to a turkey…on the lawn?” I still felt like I was missing a big part of the story.

“Yup. It was a deep-fried turkey disaster.”

“Oh!” I nodded. “That actually makes sense. I’ve never had deep-fried turkey before, but I could see how something could go wrong with all that hot oil.”

“Especially when my dad’s the one doing the cooking,” Dillon laughed. His hand slid from the small of my back to grab my hand. His fingers laced through mine, and he tugged me back into the house. “My mom never lets him help in the kitchen.”

“And yet she let him use a deep fryer on the lawn to cook the Thanksgiving turkey?”

“Yup.” He stopped in front of a stone fireplace and pointed at one of the photos on the mantle. It was of his parents on their wedding day, staring into each other’s eyes as though they were the only two people in the world. “She loves him too much to say no when he really wants something, and he was dying to fry that turkey.”

“That’s”—I swallowed down a lump in my throat while I tried to find the perfect word—“incredible.”

“I’ll deny it if you tell them I said this, but I have to agree. My parents are definitely incredible.”

“I’ll keep your secret,” I promised as I took in the rest of the pictures on the mantle. It took a moment before it registered that I was seeing double. Literally. “Wait. You have a twin?”

Dillon’s fingers tightened around mine. “I did.”

“Did?” I tore my gaze away from the photos of Dillon with a mirror image of himself and found him staring at the one of them standing side-by-side in football uniforms. He was holding perfectly still, the muscle in his jaw jumping and his eyes filled with despair.

“That car accident I was in my senior year? The one that landed me in the hospital? He died in the crash. On impact, but at least that means he didn’t suffer, right?”

Oh, shit. No wonder Elaine had sounded like she was about to cry when we’d talked about Dillon’s problems. She’d lost a son.

Dillon’s brother.

Even worse...his identical twin.

I’d been a total bitch, judging him the way I initially had. Without bothering to look for what lay beneath the surface of his seemingly perfect life. If it had cost me the chance to stand by his side while he told me his story, I never would have known what I was missing. Even though I was starting to wonder if I would’ve felt the loss anyway.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” The words sounded hollow, just like they did whenever anyone said them to me about my past. But I meant them. So very much. And I hoped he heard the sincerity in my voice.

He looked away from the photo and sighed. “We don’t talk about him often. Even though it’s been a few years, the loss is still too fresh. It hurts so fucking much.”

“I can’t even imagine.”

“But you can,” he disagreed. “I think that’s part of it.”

“Part of what?”

“Why the pull between us is so damn strong.” I gasped at his admission, and he tugged me closer with a determined gleam in his eyes. “Don’t even try to pretend it doesn’t exist, Faith. Not when we’re both feeling it. And definitely not when you’re the first person I’ve opened up to about Declan.”

“I—”

Shit. He was right. I couldn’t deny it. Not in a moment where it felt like he was baring his soul to me. The least I could do was be honest with him and own up to the fact that I was starting to have feelings for him. “Yes, I feel it too.”

“You climbed into my SUV, and it was like I’d been hit by a lightning bolt.” His hand slid around my back to rest just above the swell of my ass. “You haven’t told me much about your childhood, but I figured you had to have experienced your own loss if you ended up in foster care.”

“My mom. When I was twelve.” My gaze slid up to the picture of Dillon and his brother, their arms slung over each other’s shoulders with huge grins on their identical faces. “But it wasn’t much of a loss because she wasn’t much of a mother to me in the first place.”

Dillon’s gaze followed mine. “Declan and I were identical in looks, but he was my better half in so many ways. He always got straight A’s, without really trying. Didn’t break any rules. No drinking, not even when we were at parties. He never tried smoking pot because he didn’t want to risk getting kicked off the football team. He played first line for offense and defense.”

About halfway through his recitation about his brother, I shifted my focus from the photos to Dillon’s face. His despair was etched there, in the lines bracketing his mouth and the pallor in his complexion. “He sounds amazing.”

“Declan was the best.”

My eyes filled with tears at how profound his loss had been. I sniffled, drawing Dillon’s attention away from the mantle.

“Look at my tough girl, crying for me.” He lifted the hand at his side to swipe at my cheeks while the other pressed me closer to his body.

“Don’t expect to see it again any time soon,” I warned. “The last time I cried was almost four years ago when I found out I was getting a new kidney.”

“Four years ago, this coming February,” he murmured. “That’s the last time I cried; when I woke up from a four-week coma and found out Declan had died in the accident.”

Whoa. Talk about a major coincidence. Four years ago, this coming February, was when I had my transplant.