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Xander sits up. “I never showed an interest in leaving because I spent the first decade of my life dodging Mum’s bottles!” he hisses, and my spine shudders.He what?“But you know that now. You did something about it.”
Clay remains neutral, saying, “Our mother died of an overdose, Xander. I tried to get her sober many times.”
“Yeah?” He laughs dubiously.
“Xander,” Bronson warns.
Xander sits back. “So, the first ten years were somewhat blackout for me. The second decade I spent being groomed to be a lawyer, to keep me clean and close to home, and the third trying to avenge Dad, trying to keep Max out of jail, trying to keep Bronson from insanity, trying to fight your war! TheCosa Nostra’swar! When would I have had time to do anything that didn’t fit into that damn mould somewhere?”
“You should have told me what you wanted, Xander,” Clay states. “Asked.”
“Asked you? To what? For what? I shouldn’t have to ask you. To live where I don’t feel like my skin is crawling, with this fire, this need to bleed or fuck or both because I’m uncomfortable all the time. You can’t give me that.”
“Don’t leave me, little brother.” Bronson’s heart-wrenching utterance is smooth; it’s such a vulnerable sentence but delivered in such a dark timbre that it’s hard to understand the context. “We’ll move out of your way. What do you want us to do for you?”
“Right now, Bron?” Xander levels them with his strong blue gaze, and I’m struggling with the pain in this room. “Right now, I want you to leave. I want to be alone with Kaya, which is what I fucking said. Because you have your families, you have your forever, your girls, Kelly, Stone at home with the nanny, leave me here to speak withmyfuture.”
Stacey touches his hand; I hadn’t noticed that she’d moved closer to us. She looks at me and smiles. “Nice to meet you. I knew there was a girl. I’ve barely seen him the last few weeks.” She finds Xander’s eyes again. “I’ll call. I’m sorry.” She swallows regret. “I haven’t been around. Just life and—”
“Girlfriends,” he says with a knowing smile.
“Yeah. Felicity keeps me busy, too.”
“Good. As it should be.”
She squeezes his hand and then lets it go. “I’ll drop by soon, Xan.” Then she leaves with Shoshanna at her flank.
The three Butcher men stare at each other, energy crackling like a visible thing, but after a stretch of time, painful acceptance dowses it and the older boys nod.
They walk to the door. Bronson holds it open for Clay who meets the blonde woman in the corridor, her arms going around his waist, her head nuzzling his chest. That explains the potent air of power around her. She’s Clay’s. So much younger than him, but—I watch him smooth her long blonde hair down her back—he’s not so intimidating when he’s holding her, gentle even.
“I love you, buddy,” Bronson says, drawing my gaze back to him. His eyes glow green within welling pools that rise but don’t spill. Now, he isunnervingin this state—a flick away from detonation. “I’ll make sure we all listen better,” he says. “Yes. I’ll do that.”
Then we are alone.
Xander stares at me hard, so I shuffle around the mattress, sitting on his thighs, inching close and intimate.
“Xander,” I breathe his name, too much to digest.
“I shouldn’t have said all that crap in front of you, Baby.” He shakes his head. “About theCosa Nostra.How much do you know about my family?”
Why are we talking about his family?
“I know enough.” I blink at him, as he leans back with exhaustion he accepts in the comfort of my company. “I just want to know about you. And this—” I stop myself because I don’t want to push, but… the visceral imagery of a little Xander ducking as his mother hurtles bottles at him is one I’ll struggle with. “Disease.And one day, your mother. I want you to tell me about her. About what happened to you.”
He sighs roughly. “Okay. One day, Baby. I will.”
He cups the side of my neck, his thumb caressing my throat as I speak. “So, you really are a punch-drunk hothead,” I say through a soft laugh.
He grins. “Clinically.”
Ugh.I hate our mockery of it, but it feels better than condemning the topic. I want to both take this disease seriously and laugh in its face because it won’t become us. “It’s not funny.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
“Because.” I gaze at him with pain and fear drawing my brows in. “We haven’t even started, yet. I don’t want to lose you, Hothead. I only just found you. Like, what does this really mean? Without the medical jargon. Max and Luca seemed to know before the doctor even said it. Bronson took it really badly, but you seem… I don’t know. Do you understand it?”
“I got brain damage, Woman,” he says, his tone not holding the weight it should. “I won’t be a lawyer. I’ll never be able to retain the information needed to be one, not that I care, but my family cares, and that’s why those two left like that. I literally boxed my potential away. And, well, Bron. He’s always had problems with his mind not being on his side and not being reliable. He won’t talk about it. But we all know. So, he probably understands what I’m in for… It’s just something I’ll have to deal with. Forgetting things. And”—he massages his temple and forehead with one hand— “impulsivity… It’s like I’m not even seeing what’s happening—” He snaps his gaze to me, suddenly guarded. “Look, you can walk away, you know.”
