Page 84 of Xander

Something about how he spoke nagged at me. I remembered how, instead of celebrating his win, he barely said a word on the drive back from the stadium. He had already seemed distressed prior to receiving the news of his mother.

“What happened today?” I asked carefully.

Xander blew out a long sigh. I had a feeling he had been struggling with something all day but no longer had the energy to hide it. “Henry published an article about what happened at the party.”

My back immediately went stiff. Henry wouldn’t just publish an article, he’d make himself out to be the victim of an unsolicited attack.

He picked up on my reaction. “It’s just some online third-tier magazine that no one reads. I don’t think anyone’s seen it. I’m more worried about bigger magazines picking up the story.”

I opened my mouth, mind reeling with a hundred ways of spinning this, but Xander raised a hand. He appeared mentally exhausted and no longer cared about Henry’s antics. I snapped my mouth shut, a silent agreement passing between us that we’d no longer talk about this. There were more pressing matters at hand, like his mom’s deteriorating health.

We didn’t speak again until we got inside the car. It was parked in the small lot, which was deserted this late at night.

I slipped into the passenger side of his Bentley. He got behind the wheel, fired up the ignition, and blasted the heat, though he didn’t shift the gear to drive.

Instead, he stared out into the distance through the windshield. He had the same vacant expression as Jasper had earlier.

“Are you okay?” I asked stupidly. Obviously, he wasn’t okay.

I waited for an answer, which never came. His head leaned back against the headrest, and his face tipped toward the ceiling. He closed his eyes as if taking refuge inside his mind.

“It’s the second time this month,” he said, apropos of nothing. “She used to be worse. They put her on a new medication. It was supposed to stabilize her more. But she woke up in the middle of the night, telling the nurses that she wanted to die.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

“Traumatic head injuries are fucking hard.” He opened his eyes with a brief flutter. “Nobody ever tells you that a single blow to the skull can turn you into an entirely different person.”

I lifted my eyes to regard him. “You’re a good son to her. I think she knows that.”

Xander nodded sharply without responding.

“She doesn’t have a lot of time,” he said hoarsely. “Her health has been on the decline for a while. She is suffering from chronic pain and soon⁠—”

He stopped, swallowing hard enough that his Adam’s apple jerked.

My heart clenched so tightly I thought it’d give out. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

I snuck a glance at him, noticing the tension in his jaw as he struggled to contain his emotions. My own were bubbling to the surface, with a tear forming in the corner of my eye as I watched him. Hearing a big, muscular man like him deal with grief tore something inside me.

I released my seat belt to move closer, taking his hand in mine. He stared at our adjoined fingers, then placed his hand on top of mine, grasping it tightly.

“You’ll get through this,” I managed to say.

“You sound so sure.”

“You’re a survivor,” I told him because it was true. He was the only man who could survive Henry without blinking an eye.

In the face of impending death, Henry’s threats suddenly seemed so unimportant. What held significance was Xander’s pain. Life was fucking short, and the only thing to do was live it to the best of your ability. All other worries about money, clients, where to go, and how to escape Henry vanished into the air against the threat of imminent death.

I had no idea how long we stayed like that.

After what seemed like an eternity, he lifted my hand to his lips.

“Xander?”

His lips brushed against my knuckles. I stopped breathing but didn’t retract my hand. Outside, the wind blew through the empty parking lot, and one of the floodlights flickered.

He trailed my knuckles with his lips.