CHAPTER 18. HOME #4
Xavier doesn’t look thrilled, but he doesn’t argue. When I offer coffee, all four immediately protest that I should be resting. I wave them off—it’s just coffee. That’s when Xavier steps in, insisting he’ll help. We leave the others in the living room and head into the kitchen together.
As I switch on the coffee maker, the kitchen door clicks shut. I glance over my shoulder.
Xavier’s already crossing the room. I lift an eyebrow, unsure what he’s planning, but then he’s on me—pressing me back against the counter just like yesterday. The heady scent of him makes my pulse spike.
This time, he doesn’t kiss me. He just stands there, body pressed to mine, arms braced on either side, trapping me in.
“I want them gone,” he growls, his voice low, almost feral. “You need to rest.”
“It won’t be long,” I murmur, tilting my head up at him. “Then I’ll rest. Promise.”
Xavier fixes me with an unreadable look, jaw tight, clearly unhappy about all of this. Now that the walls between us are gone, it’s striking to see this side of him—possessive and fiercely protective.
I smile at him and lean in for a kiss. He meets me halfway, his expression softening almost against his will.
Our mouths crash together, his hands sliding into my hair, his tongue hot and slick as it pushes into my mouth, his hips grinding into mine.
I can feel how hard he is through the layers of clothing, blood surging straight to my cock.
We pull apart a few moments later, breathless, eyes locked. Xavier’s gaze is dark, his lips swollen. He dips to press a kiss to my jaw before finally letting me go, seemingly reluctant to release me.
He helps me with the coffee, and then we head back into the living room.
“Oh, by the way—we found the bug in my office,” Willand says, throwing a quick look at Xavier. “God knows how long Nimoy was listening in on every single conversation in there.” His gaze darkens.
“You’re welcome,” Xavier says, casual as ever. “Let me guess—it was in the light switch?”
He sets down the tray with three cups. I place the other three, and we both take our seats across from the guests.
“Yeah,” Willand says, surprised. “How’d you know?”
Xavier shrugs. “Just a guess.”
But I know it wasn’t.
Mr. Waverly clears his throat and turns to Willand. “Chief, may I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Willand says, glancing over.
“I saw on the news… They said the shooter was killed on the spot. Is he dead?”
I blink, caught off guard, and glance at Willand. He gives me a quick look before answering.
“Yes. He’s dead.”
“Nimoy is dead?” I repeat, completely thrown. I glance at Xavier, who’s clearly avoiding my eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The silence around the table sharpens. Everyone’s watching us now.
Xavier looks up, meets my gaze. There’s a quiet softness in his eyes when he says, “I…didn’t want to worry you.”
I can’t help smiling, a little amazed. “That wouldn’t worry me. If anything, I’ll sleep better now, knowing he won’t break into our home and try to kill us again.”
And that’s true.
Even after everything—even after overhearing that last conversation Xavier had with Bernard, which made me empathize with the guy more than I wanted to—I still feel relieved that he’s gone.
That doesn’t mean I don’t feel sorry for him now—I still do.
Mostly because he wasn’t wrong about a lot of the things he said.
He just lost himself somewhere along the way.
Took the wrong path and never came back from it.
But I’m not going to be torn up about it.
Not after what he did. The people he killed. The children he left without parents.
He made his choices. And I’ve made mine. That’s life.
Xavier nods, his gaze still on me, his face going quiet, closed off.
I reach for his arm and give it a reassuring squeeze—only then realizing everyone’s still watching us.
Fuck it. I don’t care anymore.
Xavier seems to catch that too—he gives me a faint smile in return.
“Wait, was that the man who broke in here?” Mrs. Waverly asks with a small gasp.
“We still need to officially confirm it,” Crowley says with a nod, “but we’re pretty sure it was him.”
“Well, good riddance then,” Mr. Waverly mutters.
It’s surreal, honestly—having both the Waverlys and half of the Shorewitch Robbery-Homicide Unit in our apartment for coffee. Maybe even wilder than that time we had Monica here with Ernest and Mrs. Waverly.
And the weirdest part? Crowley’s here, and she’s actually being decent. Just sitting there, her expression neutral, chiming in here and there to keep the conversation going.
Even Xavier’s politely tolerating her, which—considering their history—is also surprisingly decent of him.
Half an hour passes in conversation about everything that happened yesterday. When the Waverlys finally suggest they should let us rest, neither I—nor Xavier, obviously—put up much of a protest. We’re both exhausted; neither of us has slept well last night, or really the past week.
Willand and Crowley take it as their cue, and the Waverlys, Xavier and I follow them out into the hallway downstairs.
“Thanks again for everything,” I tell Willand, shaking his hand. “We’ll probably take a couple of weeks off investigations,” I add, shooting a quick look at Xavier.
To my surprise, he doesn’t argue. He just nods. “We’ll be in touch after New Year’s.”
“Great,” Willand says. Then, with a trace of hesitation, adds, “Hopefully I won’t be suspended by then.”
I frown, not following. “Why would you get suspended? You saved our lives.”
Willand smirks. “There’s going to be an internal investigation into Nimoy’s connection to my department. And I doubt that bug in my office is going to make me look good.”
I smirk. “Well, if you ask me, the bug’s actually a good thing. It proves Nimoy didn’t get all that information out of you or your officers.”
“Let’s hope so,” Willand says with a shrug.
We say our goodbyes to him and Crowley, and once they’re gone, Xavier and I start back toward our apartment. But at the bottom of the stairs, Mrs. Waverly stops us.
“I need to tell you something, boys,” she says, her expression suddenly serious as she looks up at us.
She’s so tiny, even I feel like a giant standing next to her.
“I’m really glad you’re both okay, but from now on, please—make sure you communicate with each other.
” She pauses, fixing us with a stern look.
Xavier and I trade a quick glance before turning back to her, waiting.
“Especially you, Xavier,” she goes on, zeroing in on him. “If you disappear one more time without warning Newt—I’ll call your mother, I swear.”
To my surprise, Xavier’s lips twitch into a faint smile.
“Don’t you smile at me,” Mrs. Waverly scolds, though there’s a softness under the words. “You scared us all. Especially Newt. He was worried sick.”
“That’s true,” I say, shooting Xavier a look, a crooked smile tugging at my mouth.
“Alright,” Xavier murmurs, blinking at me, his eyes so uncharacteristically tender it makes my skin prickle. He turns back to Mrs. Waverly. “What else?”
Mrs. Waverly just stares at him, apparently as unprepared for Xavier’s surrender as I am.
“Well,” she says at last, a little disarmed. “You should both eat. I’ll go cook for you now—just tell me what you want.”
“Thank you for the trouble, Mrs. Waverly, but we’re planning to order takeout,” I say, offering her a warm smile.
“Are you sure?” she asks, all warmth now, back to her usual self.
“Hundred percent,” I say.
“Alright.” She nods. And just when I think she’s about to leave, she adds, “One last thing before I go.” Her gaze flicks to Xavier. “That was a very sweet confession, Xavier. I saw it on YouTube last night.”
“What confession?” I cut in, confused, looking from her to Xavier.
Xavier doesn’t quite meet my eyes as he mutters, “I didn’t know she was going to post that online.” His cheeks flush scarlet.
“Who?” I ask, completely lost.
Xavier finally looks at me, his face red, expression flustered. “That journalist from the Romford Recorder we talked to yesterday.”
“Selena Hast?” I frown.
He nods. “She gave me the information on Nimoy in exchange for that.”
I blink, thrown. “In exchange for what?”
“Uh…” Xavier hesitates, then meets my eyes. “Admitting that I’m in love with you.”
My face heats. “You said that?”
“Yes—and turns out she had a camera in her bag.”
“Oh.” I pause, realizing I’m not nearly as upset as I probably should be. “I want to see it.”
Xavier’s already flushed cheeks go crimson. “Absolutely not.”
“What, you regret saying it?” I smirk, mock-offended, watching him with a challenge in my eyes.
“Of course not,” Xavier says, folding his arms across his chest. “I just don’t want you to see it.”
“Why not?”
We don’t get to finish our banter—Mrs. Waverly cuts in.
“I’m sorry they did that without your consent,” she says, patting Xavier’s arm. “But I’m glad it’s not a secret anymore. Maybe now the journalists will stop speculating.”
I glance at her, incredulous. Did she know all along? The way she’s so accepting baffles me. Honestly, she probably realized I was gone for Xavier before I even did.
“Thank you, Mrs. Waverly,” I say, leaning down to hug her. “Thank you for everything.”
She pats my back before saying, “Never be embarrassed about your feelings, dear. There’s nothing shameful about loving someone.”
My throat catches at the words—their weight hits me all at once.
“Thank you,” I say again as I let her go.
To my surprise, Xavier steps in and hugs her too.
Mrs. Waverly looks just as startled as I am. When he lets go, she wipes at her eyes.
“You two go and rest now,” she says, turning toward her apartment. “If you need anything, Boris and I are here.”
We nod, and then Xavier takes my hand and pulls me upstairs.