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My mind drifts to the way my sisters watched my mother and me through the glass door.
Was I the reason we didn’t bond?
Was it my attitude?
My expectations?
My grudge against Mum?
They stood beside my mum, while I was appalled by what I saw as weakness—as a bad role model.
You were blind, Kaya.
Immature, perhaps.
God, I feel so separated from past-Kaya now. This moment with the Butchers makes me want to mend my broken relationships with my siblings and try to connect on a level that matters. A small one, at least.
Like Xander and Bronson and the hole with a silent, dusty message of forgiveness for their dad… I want to appreciate everything my mum did or tried to do, because what else can I ask for but her best efforts? Nothing else is possible, so nothing else should be expected.
* * *
Later that night,in his corner spa bath, we wash away the sweat we earned after hours of working on the third floor. Xander was right about his stamina; it’s not only an account of our desire for each other, but his body is always on overdrive—revving. The third-storey renovation keeps him busy. I wonder if that was Max’s plan or just a convenient result.
I lay my head back on his warm chest, though there is room for me to sit in my own corner, but why would I? The steaming water circles us, rippling as his hands reverently touch me below the water.
His palms are always roaming. I know this lethargic Xander. If he closes his eyes now, he’ll fall into the deepest of sleep, having worked himself into a near coma upstairs. “Do you want the money?” he asks softly. “To get your useless dad out? I forgave mine, so, I can’t judge you—”
“No,” I answer quickly. And I mean it. “I don’t want it. I realised yesterday that he deserve to be in there. He might have supported us financially, but he lied and cheated and never supported my mumemotionally. I’m done with him.”
“If you change your mind—”
“I won’t,” I say with strength. I desire only one thing now.Xander. “Last time we were in a bath together you asked me to tell you a secret,” I say, showing him where my focus is. “It’s your turn this time, Hothead. Your bath. Your secrets. I want them all.”
A deep breath moves through my spine as he inhales. “Okay. You remember what Bronson said about how Clay fixes problems? Even if we don’t want him to?”
I sway my hands just below the surface, watching them move, the water parting in beautiful waves. “Yeah.”
“He fixed a problem we had from childhood a few weeks ago…” His deep voice trails to ominous quiet.
I stop my hands. “And?”
“I think he played a part in my mum’s death.”
“What?” I spin in his lap. Searching the stunning blue depth of his eyes, not believing what I just heard, I seek out the truth within them. My gaze drops to his lips to watch them move around the statement that fell so easily through them. “What did you say, Baby?”
His brows slowly draw over a serious expression. “You remember what I said about theCosa Nostrain the hospital?You know about my family—our business.”
“The whole city is corrupt, Xander. You don’t grow up in the District not knowing that. My family is no different. Only my mum… she’s innocent in it. Yours?”
“Definitely not innocent.”
“But wasn’t she his mother, too? What could she have done to warrant that? What—"
“She used to hurt me.Us,” he clarifies, the broken wordmeneeding companionship. “She beat the crap out of us more accurately. Max and Bronson basically raised me. But when she wanted attention, she’d locked me in her wardrobe for weeks.” His voice becomes monotone, the empty sound prickling my spine. “I couldn’t move. Was so bored.”
My heart twists and falls.
He continues, “I told Clay only days before she overdosed. I just wanted to tell you. I’m not sure I care anymore, but there, I said it.”
