Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Xanthe
I stand awkwardly in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at Fury, and it’s like all my fears are confirmed in that one sentence. It’s Mum who spots me, clapping her hand over his to shut him up. But it’s too late—I heard the part that mattered, even if he didn’t finish the words.
“I just came to say your room is ready,” I say, forcing a smile.
Fury jumps up, rushing towards me. “Shit, Xanthe, let . . . me finish.”
“It’s fine,” I say a little too brightly, turning on my heel. Fuck, if he touches me, I’ll crumble. I take the stairs two at a time. “Could you show Mum to the top floor?” I throw over my shoulder. “I just remembered I have something to do.”
I burst into my bedroom and slam the door closed, leaning against it. My heart is pounding, and I feel sick. He must think I’m such a desperate, sad act. I turn the lock and then pull a bag from under my bed. I was so certain I wanted to leave earlier, but after chatting with the girls and having one too many drinks, I’d softened a little, thinking maybe I should just stick around and see what happens. But I can’t now. Not after hearing him confess that he doesn’t feel the same.
I pull my clothes from the drawers and stuff them into the bag, not caring if they’re crumpled. He taps lightly on the door, and I pause, holding my breath. I know it’s him just by the way he knocks. How sad is that? “Yeah?” I call, keeping my voice even.
“Can we talk?” he asks through the door.
“Now isn’t a good time. Maybe tomorrow?”
“But you didn’t let . . . me finish.”
“Finish what?” I ask calmly, going over to my dresser and sweeping all my products into my vanity bag.
“Let’s not pretend you . . . didn’t hear me.”
“I’d prefer to,” I say with a small, unamused laugh. “I’m tired, and I need to sleep the wine off. I’ll come and find you later.”
“Yah know, it’s an old . . . lady’s duty to listen to . . . her man,” he says.
My heart twists, and tears fill my eyes. “I’m not your old lady.”
It’s met with silence. At least he’s got the message. After a few seconds, I stuff the rest of my things into the bag and zip it up. I glance around the room to check for anything, and that’s when I see him standing in the conjoining doorway, watching me. His eyes fall to the bag and then back to me. “You didn’t lock . . . this one,” he says.
My adrenaline spikes, making my sickness worse. “I can see that,” I mutter, stuffing my feet into my trainers. “I’m just gonna go,” I add, grabbing my coat. “And it would be so much easier on my heart if you just let me.” A lone tear falls down my cheek.
“I was so fucking . . . mad when you didn’t . . . show earlier.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Nurse duties are done, I thought he’d realise that by now. “I wanted you . . . here when the doctor came.”
“There are plenty of people round to support you,” I mutter.
“They’re not you,” he says, stepping closer.
“And Mum will stick around for a while. She’ll love fussing over you.”
“I don’t want her to . . . fuss over me,” he says, gently taking my chin in his fingers and tipping my head back to look him in the eye. “I want you.”
“I can’t,” I whisper, my voice breaking with emotion.
“Why?”
“It’s too hard.”
He presses his thumb over my tattoo. “Mine.” I shake my head slightly, and his eyes darken. “Mine,” he repeats more firmly.
“You have no idea how hard it is,” I say, allowing the tears to roll down my cheeks. “To love someone so much and be met with nothing.”
“Baby, I grew up knowing that . . . feeling all too well. But that . . . isn’t what this is.”
“Isn’t it?” I demand, taking a step back so his hands fall away. “I can’t sit here waiting for you to remember how you felt. If you even fucking felt it. I don’t know if you were serious because you left and came back another person.” His head bows, and his hands hang limply by his sides. I’m reminded again of the little boy I used to know, and it breaks my heart. “I have to put me first,” I add sadly.
“I feel different,” he mutters. “Angrier, more tired . . . impatient. But one thing that . . . hasn’t changed, Xanth, is how I feel . . . about you.” He looks me in the eye, and I hold my breath, unsure of what he’s about to say. “From the second I saw you in that . . . stupid bright trainers with your . . . sprayed hair, I loved you.” I inhale sharply. It’s the same thing he said to me before the accident. “You went to that nineties . . . party, and I spent the fucking . . . night looking out the window, wondering if you . . . were okay. Stressed some teenage fucker . . . had his hands in your pants.”
I give a watery smile. “I was jealous . . . over a girl I didn’t even know. But we went . . . on to have the best two years . . . of my life. I’d never felt so loved and needed. When . . . I left, I was more broken than I’d ever been . . . and I never felt fixed after you. Until now. And I might not remember . . . coming to the hospital and being patched up. I might . . . not remember our conversation or how I made . . . you go out for coffee. But I am one hundred percent . . . certain that I fell in love with you . . . all over again. Because I never stopped, Xanth. You have always owned my heart.”
“But you . . .” I frown. “You told Mum?—”
“You didn’t let me finish. I was about to say . . . I feel so inadequate. You look at me like I’m your lifeline . . . and all I’ve done is bring you stress and misery. Before me . . . you had a good life, just like before, and I come along and fuck it all up.”
I shake my head, closing the gap between us. “You’re wrong,” I tell him, placing my hand on his cheek. “You are my life, Reese. Without you, it’s pointless.”
He smiles. “Please stay.”
I give a small laugh. “I was all packed, ready for my dramatic exit.”
“There was no way . . . I was gonna let you leave.”
“No?”
He shakes his head and places a gentle kiss on my lips. “And if you ever . . . go off radar again, I’ll tear the . . . town up looking for you.”
“I lost track of time,” I say, smirking.
“Well, Jennie was eager . . . to play nurse.”
I laugh. “Why does she terrify you so much? You and her had a thing,” I remind him but before I can finish, he kisses me hard, holding me tightly.
“Some memories are . . . best left forgotten.”
Fury
“Unpack,” I tell her, swatting her on the backside. “I want to take you . . . out for food.”
“Really?” she asks, laughing. “That’s what you want to do right now?”
I grin, knowing exactly where her mind is at. “Donnie isn’t a threat . . . now, so I want to walk freely . . . with my woman.”
She bites her lower lip and smiles coyly. “That’s kind of cute, so I’ll keep my smutty suggestions to myself.”
I arch a brow. “Save them for . . . later.”
We go downstairs hand-in-hand. Axel looks over from where he’s got Lexi backed up against the wall. “Finally,” he says with a wink.
“You sorted it?” asks Lexi, grinning wide, and I nod. “We should celebrate.”
“Not so fast, Mouse. We’re in the middle of something,” Axel cuts in, gently gripping her throat and nipping her lower lip.
Dianna is lost in conversation with Coop, and I narrow my eyes. “Watch him,” I tell Xanthe.
“Aww, I like Coop,” she replies.
“As a stepdad?” I ask, and she laughs.
“I’ll be Lexi’s sister.”
We head out to my bike, and I take a deep breath. The doctor gave me the all-clear to drive when I feel ready, but it’s the first time since the accident, and I can’t pretend I’m not nervous. As if she senses it, she squeezes my hand. “You’ve got this.”
I take her helmet and push it on her head, fastening the strap. I throw my leg over the beast and carefully put my own helmet on as Xanthe slides on behind me. She wraps her arms around me, and it’s the best feeling.
I start the engine, and my entire body relaxes. For the first time in weeks, I feel like my old self, and as we pull out onto the road, it’s as if nothing ever happened. The rumble of the engine is all the medicine I needed.
Ten minutes later, I park the bike up in a quieter part of town and remove my helmet. When I first arrived in London, I came to this restaurant for a traditional curry, and when I opened my eyes after the accident, it’s one of the few things I remembered. I tell Xanthe the story as we enter hand-in-hand.
Once we’re seated and have placed our order, I take her hands across the table, tracing my thumb over her tattoo. “I need one.”
“I’ve never had my name on anyone’s skin before,” she says thoughtfully.
“Good.”
“I know this is a huge thing for you,” she adds, “but I was thinking, maybe we could get married.”
“If that’s what . . . you want.”
She stares open-mouthed, “Really?” I nod. “But you didn’t seem keen before . . .” She trails off, realising I don’t remember, and I smile.
“I was an . . . idiot before. Now, I will do . . . anything to make you happy.”
“It doesn’t have to be a big one, or even soon, just one day.”
But I’m already thinking of ways to get her up the aisle soon. “Kids?” I ask. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about. When Jo got pregnant, I was terrified. After my childhood, why wouldn’t I be? But Xanthe is different, and with her help, I know I’d be a good dad.
“I always said I didn’t want them,” she says, and my heart drops, “but when I imagine you holding our baby, it makes me feel differently.”
I grin. “Good, cos I wasn’t waiting for . . . your consent. We’re having babies.”
“Babies?” she repeats, laughing. “As in more than one?”
I nod. “There won’t ever be a time . . . when you’re not filled with . . . my babies.”
She leans over the table, hooking her hand around my neck and pulling me closer for a kiss. “At least we get to practise a lot.”
“First, we eat,” I whisper against her lips. “You need to be . . . strong if you’re going to be a . . . mum to a football team.”
She sits back in her seat. “Imagine Mum with grandbabies.”
“She will need to . . . be closer.”
“She’s not that far from us,” says Xanthe.
“I was thinking she could . . . move into the clubhouse.”
Xanthe stares wide-eyed. “You want my mother to move into the clubhouse?” I nod. “Why?”
“I don’t like the . . . thought of her being alone.”
Xanthe’s face softens. “You’re too cute.”
“Don’t tell my brothers.”