Chapter 11
Xavier
“What are you thinking about?” June asked, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest as we snuggled in her bed.
“Nothing important. Just wondering how long it’ll take Milo to come back with food.”
“I can’t believe I ran out of eggs. I need to adjust my online grocery list if you two are going to stay over so much,” she said, then ducked her chin and blushed. “I mean, not that I’m trying to make plans or anything.”
“But you love plans.”
June opened her mouth to reply, but her phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up. She glanced at it, and I felt her body tense against mine.
“Ignore it,” I suggested, pulling her closer.
“It’s my parents,” she said, voice suddenly tight. “They’ve called three times already. If I don’t get it, my mom will fly into a panic.” She reached for the phone, hesitated, then sighed and answered. “Hi, Mom.”
I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but I could feel June’s body growing progressively more rigid against mine. Her breathing changed, becoming shallow and quick.
“No, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” Her voice had taken on a strange, flat quality I’d never heard before. “You don’t need to worry.”
I sat up, watching her face. Her eyes were fixed on a point across the room, her expression blank in a way that sent alarm bells ringing in my head.
“No, I don’t need to come home,” she said. “I love you guys, but the job at Heleonix is just incredible.” A pause. “Because I’m an adult, Mom. I’ve been managing living in Colorado for nearly a year. I don’t need to move back to California.”
I didn’t know much about June’s family, but I didn’t think they had a poor relationship.
“I’m not struggling,” June insisted, her voice rising slightly. “I’m actually doing very well. The Helios project is—” She cut herself off, listening. “No, I’m not isolating myself. I have... people. Friends.”
Another pause. I could see her knuckles turning white as she gripped the phone.
“I’m not having this conversation again,” she said. “I know this is coming from a place of care and worry, but you have to let me make my own mistakes.”
Whatever her mother said next made June’s face crumple, her composure finally fracturing. “That’s not—you’re not listening to me!”
I moved without thinking, crossing back to the bed and gently taking the phone from her trembling hand. She looked up at me, startled, her green eyes wide behind her glasses.
“Hello,” I said, my voice deliberately calm. “I think we’d better put an end to this conversation for now.”
There was silence on the other end, then a woman’s voice, crisp and controlled. “Who is this?”
“Xavier. I’m a friend of June’s. And if you could see her right now, you wouldn’t be pushing her this hard.” I sat on the edge of the bed, keeping my eyes on June, who was now hugging her knees to her chest, rocking slightly.
“A friend,” the woman repeated, skepticism dripping from each syllable. “I wasn’t aware June had made any friends. She tends to forget about socializing if someone doesn’t remind her.”
What the fuck was that supposed to mean? I bit back the surge of anger, forcing myself to stay calm for June’s sake. “Well, she has. Several, actually. June’s pretty amazing.”
“And how do you know our daughter, exactly?”
“We met at a bookstore,” I said, which was technically true.
“Look, Mrs....” Shit. What was June’s last name?
“Er. Ma’am. I don’t know what’s got you worried, but it’s unfounded, but June is doing great.
She’s brilliant at her job—they’ve put her on the team for this huge project.
She’s got friends, she’s got a beautiful house, she’s happy.
” I glanced at June, who was still rocking, her eyes squeezed shut.
“Or at least, she was until this phone call.”
“Young man,” a man’s deep voice cut in. “You don’t know our daughter’s history or her needs. June requires certain support structures that—”
“With all due respect, sir, June’s a grown woman who knows what she needs better than anyone. And right now, what she needs is for you to trust her judgment.”
June was hugging herself tighter now, her rocking becoming more pronounced. I needed to end this call and help her.
“Look, I have to go,” I said. “June needs me. But you should know that your daughter is incredible. She’s smart and kind and honest in a way most people aren’t brave enough to be. You should be really fucking proud of her. I know I am.”
I hung up before they could respond, setting the phone face-down on the nightstand. June was clearly in some kind of distress—a meltdown or shutdown or whatever the proper term was. I’d seen her get overwhelmed before when too many people were talking at once, but nothing like this.
“June? Hey, look at me.” I knelt in front of her, wanting to touch her but afraid it might make things worse. “What do you need?”
She didn’t respond, just kept rocking, her breathing fast and shallow. Fuck. Where was Milo when I needed him? He was the one who knew how to handle shit like this, who always knew the right thing to say, the right thing to do. I was just the fuckup who broke things and walked away.
I closed my eyes, trying to center myself. What would Milo do in this situation? And then I heard it—Milo’s voice in my head, a memory from years ago when I’d had a panic attack after my dad had shown up at the apartment Milo and I shared.
“Breathe, X. Just breathe. In for five, hold for five, out for five. Count with me.”
I opened my eyes, moving to sit directly in front of June. “June, I’m going to try something, okay? We’re going to breathe together. In for five, hold for five, out for five.”
I started counting, keeping my voice low and steady. “In—two—three—four.”
For a few breaths, she didn’t seem to hear me, still lost in whatever storm was raging inside her. But then, gradually, her breathing began to sync with my counting. Her rocking slowed, her grip on her knees loosening slightly.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, continuing to count. “You’re doing great.”
After what felt like forever but was probably only a few minutes, June’s eyes opened. They were clearer now, focused on me.
“Xavier,” she said softly.
I reached out instinctively, cupping her face in my hand. “Hey. You back with me?”
To my surprise, June laughed—a small, fragile sound, but a laugh nonetheless. “I don’t usually like being touched on the face,” she said. “It’s a sensory thing. Most hands feel... wrong.”
“Oh, shit, sorry.” I quickly yanked my hand away, but she caught it and pressed it back to her cheek.
“No. Yours and Milo’s hands are different,” she said, her eyes closing as she leaned into my touch. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the calluses. Your fingers are just the right kind of prickly, scrappy feeling. I like it.”
“Do you like this?” I asked, running my thumb along her jawline.
She sighed, a sound of pure contentment that sent heat straight to my groin. “Just like that.”
We sat in silence for a moment, June leaning into my touch, her breathing now slow and regular. The sunlight had shifted, no longer falling across the bed but illuminating the far wall instead. Time passed while we sat suspended in this strangely intimate moment.
“Thank you,” she said finally, opening her eyes. “For what you said to my parents. They worry, probably a little too much...” She trailed off, looking away. “You’re a good man, Xavier.”
I laughed, the sound harsh even to my own ears. “Not even close, June-bug. But I appreciate the sentiment.”
She started to argue, but my phone buzzed in my jeans pocket on the floor. I ignored it at first, not wanting to break this moment, but when it buzzed again immediately, I knew it was trouble.
“Hold that thought,” I said, retrieving my phone. My stomach dropped as I saw the texts from my boss.
WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU
GET YOUR ASS HERE NOW OR DON’T BOTHER COMING BACK
“Shit,” I muttered. I’d forgotten I had a shift this morning. I glanced at the time—8:17. I was beyond late.
“What’s wrong?” June asked, watching my face.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, shoving the phone back in my pocket. “Just work stuff.”
June’s eyes narrowed. “You’re supposed to be somewhere right now, aren’t you?”
“It’s fine,” I insisted, even as my phone buzzed again. I silenced it without looking. “Not important.”
“Xavier.” She said my name like she was solving an equation. “I’ve never asked what you and Milo do for work.”
“Well, I’ve never asked your last name, so I guess we’re even. I didn’t realize it until I couldn’t figure out what to call your mom.”
She smiled. “Ashbury. June Ashbury.”
“Why don’t we ask questions?”
“I don’t know about you, but once I get started, it’s a little hard to stop,” June said. “And I don’t want to risk upsetting the delicate balance.”
“Well, maybe we should take that risk. Just so I don’t call your mom Mrs. Ma’am.”
She burst out laughing. “Okay. So, Xavier, what do you do for work?”
I bit my bottom lip, realizing that there was a reason I’d never told her. Never wanted her to know that while she was designing revolutionary motorcycles, I was flipping eggs and scraping grease traps.
June giggled, then sat up straighter, a formal expression crossing her face that was so absurdly professional given that she was naked in bed.
“Perhaps we should do a formal introduction. June Marie Ashbury,” she announced, extending her hand like we were at a business meeting.
“Senior Electrical Engineer at Heleonix, specializing in motor control systems and power delivery optimization.”
I took her hand, shaking it solemnly even as warmth spread through my chest at her ridiculousness. “Xavier Michael Cross. Soon-to-be-fired line cook at The Rusted Spur, specializing in overcooking hash browns and pissing off management.”
June’s face went through several expressions—surprise, then confusion. “A line cook? Really?”
“Pays the bills.”
“I didn’t mean that to sound judgy, it just seems a waste of your intelligence.”
I laughed. “Oh, is that why I fucking hate it?”
She shook her head, squeezing my hand. “Well, I have faith that you’ll find something else. Something better.”
“Not likely. I barely graduated high school.”
“So? You have a lot of good qualities. You’re brilliant with motorcycles, you are well-spoken, you love to read.” Her green eyes were fierce behind her glasses. “I believe you can do anything.”
The words hit me harder than they should have. Perhaps because I couldn’t remember a single person in my life ever saying anything like that to me before.