24
Dillon
“Mommy! Uncle Dillon has a surprise for me!” Easton yells the second we step foot into Viv’s house on Friday afternoon. This past month has been heaven and hell. Heaven because I get to collect Easton from camp every Friday and spend the rest of the day with him and Viv. Hell because the six other days when I don’t see them feels like six years.
East has instantly burrowed his way into my heart, earning a permanent place there. He is a breath of fresh air, and he has brightened up my world immensely. He takes so much joy in things, and I love that he loves the outdoors like me.
Not that he gets much of a chance to do stuff.
Viv is uberprotective, to the point I’m starting to worry. Apart from camp, she won’t let East out of her sight, and they spend all their time cooped up at the house. I know it’s not a chore. The place is frigging huge, and East doesn’t want for a single thing. He has a pool, a treehouse, a massive playground and obstacle course, and an indoor playroom with every toy, activity, and game imaginable.
Viv fills his afternoons with playdates and activities so he’s never bored, but I can tell he’s feeling caged, and I’m wondering how to tackle it with his mum. I’ve considered calling Audrey to ask her if Viv is always this protective, but those two are thick as thieves, and I can’t risk Audrey telling Viv. I’m treading on eggshells here, terrified if I do or say the wrong thing that Viv will change her mind and freeze me out again.
“He does, huh?” Viv says, appearing at the end of the hallway. Relief floods her features as her gaze roams her son, checking to ensure he’s okay. Easton races toward her as she crouches down, opening her arms. He throws himself at her, hugging her close, and my heart does this twisty thing it always does every time I see them together.
She is such a good mother, always putting his needs before her own, spending hours playing with him or reading to him, and she ensures he eats well and he sticks to a daily routine that gives him comfort and structure. In a lot of ways, she reminds me of my ma, but in others, she is totally different.
Ma had a bunch of kids at home and a farm to run, so our routine was a lot less rigid, our house a lot more chaotic. I have always loved my parents, especially because they took me in and treated me as one of their own from the very start. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve developed a greater appreciation for them, especially Mum.
“Can I see it now?” East asks as I approach, bouncing from foot to foot. I chuckle, ruffling his hair. Intermittent blond strands lighten his brown hair, thanks to hours spent outdoors this summer. I can’t believe it’s the beginning of August already, and there is only five months left before we head out on tour. I have no clue how I am going to leave them behind. Even if Viv is still keeping me at a distance and there is no evidence of her thawing toward me at all.
Viv straightens up, smiling softly. “Everything was okay?” she asks, like usual.
“Everything was fine.” I understand her concern, to a certain extent. After that crazy bitch came at her with a knife, the camp organizers asked Viv not to escort Easton anymore. They can’t risk another incident, as it places all the kids in danger, so Viv had no choice but to reluctantly agree. Now, she drives Easton there and waits in the car while Leon or Bobby takes him inside.
Of course, the press went to town after the attack, and it dredged everything up again just as it had started settling down. Hate mail has doubled at the fan club, but Margaret Andre keeps it well away from Vivien. I have spoken to her and asked her to let me know if there are any serious threats made.
It seems crazy attracts crazy and that portion of Reeve’s fanbase who never approved of Viv are more vocal online. It’s ridiculous they are blaming her for the accident, and if I see one more post calling Vivien a murderer, I will lose my shit.
Ash changed the password on all my social media accounts after I started retaliating because fuck that crap. Does she really expect me to not say something when assholes are spewing poison at the woman I love? And don’t even get me started on those lingering Saffhards.
Saffron Roberts is a junkie nobody these days, but she appears to have a core following who still think she’s the bomb. They are loving a new opportunity to throw shit at Viv, and I couldn’t not respond.
Until Ash put a stop to it, and now I’m banned from all my accounts. She has the band PA respondingappropriately—her words, not mine—and I’ve just had to suck it up.
East tugs on my leg. “Uncle Dillon. Puh-leasssssee can I have my surprise now?”
I bend down, tweaking his nose. “I wonder where you got your impatience from, hmm?” I flash him a smile, pretending I don’t see the troubled expression on Viv’s face. I know this is hard for her, but it still upsets me to know she’s conflicted over my growing relationship with our son.
Ignoring the painful ache in my chest, I tell East to wait for me in the playroom while I run back out to my Land Rover to grab the small guitar case from the boot. I pull my weathered case out too and head back inside.
Easton is coloring at his desk in the playroom when I arrive. Viv is seated in the large high-backed velvet chair by the window, scribbling away in her journal. I have noticed her doing that a lot recently, and it brings a lump to my throat. She used to journal a lot in Ireland, at the outset of our relationship, and I know it was a suggestion from her therapist. I’m wondering if her current therapist suggested the same thing. If this is her way of coping. Of remembering Reeve and her little baby.
East swivels on his chair, and his eyes almost bug out of their sockets when he sees what I’m carrying. “Mommy!” he shouts, his chair screeching as he shoves it back. “Uncle Dillon got me a guitar!”
Vivien sets her journal down, lifting her head up. “I can see that.” My shoulders relax at her genuine smile. I was a little worried how she might respond to this, but I didn’t ask her in advance because I didn’t want to give her an opportunity to say no.
“I thought you might like to learn how to play. I was five when I first started. I thought I could teach you.”
“Yay!” He rushes me, clinging to my leg, and I stumble a little. “You’re the best uncle in the whole wide world.”
Fuck. This little fella kills me in the best possible way. He loves so freely and openly, and my heart is overjoyed at being included in his inner circle. I can’t wait for the day when he will, hopefully, call me Dad.
Tears swim in Viv’s eyes as she watches us, and I’m guessing it’s as emotional for her but for different reasons.
“Come sit on the sofa,” I say, handing him his case. “Careful with that little beauty.”
We sit side by side on the leather couch, and I show Easton how to unpack his guitar and how to hold it. Viv watches silently, and her gaze is like a warm blanket spreading over every inch of my body.