Chapter 2 Xaden #8
Michael leans forward, voice sharp enough to cut paper. “With respect, Becky, enrichment should be accessible to all the children, not just the ones you handpick. I suggest we build a heated swimming pool in the school basement.”
“Everyone is allowed to apply,” Becky retorts. “And what about your swimming pool idea? Awfully convenient for Luca, isn’t it?”
“It’s never too early to prepare for the 2038 Olympics,” Michael says smoothly.
“Or that year’s Nobel prize,” Becky fires back. “If we introduce the kids to quantum gravity now, Avery… I mean all the kids would benefit.”
The rest of us watch like it’s Wimbledon. Henry lowers his camera, expression unreadable. Then he asks, in a voice so dry it could catch fire, “Should I be documenting this for future generations?”
The room snickers. But J?rgen — who’s been stone-faced and silent all through the meeting, arms crossed like a fortress — suddenly lets out a booming laugh. A real one. His whole face lights up like Henry just cracked the code to comedy.
Henry blinks, startled, and for a moment I swear his calm mask slips. His gaze lingers on J?rgen a fraction too long, then he fumbles, lowers the camera… and quickly raises it again, like hiding.
J?rgen clears his throat. “Playground paint,” he says, maybe to cover the moment. “I can take care of it. Make it safe again.”
Becky claps, seizing the opening. “Wonderful! Cole, you’ll join that subcommittee, won’t you?”
Normally I’d mutter an excuse, but something in me has shifted since Xaden came back. I sit up straighter. “Yeah,” I say. “I’ll do it.”
Michael arches a brow like I’ve just volunteered to do brain surgery. “Do you have experience with playground materials? Can I see your references?”
“I’ve got two hands. Is that enough reference for you?” I ask. A few parents chuckle. Becky jots my name down with flourish. Henry snaps a photo and murmurs, “Definitely documenting this.”
Being noticed here was one thing. Facing my dad with the questions I have; that’s the real mountain. The thought of him has been sitting like a stone in my chest all day. But I have to find out what is going on with him and Willard.
Later, in the safety of my kitchen, I listen to Caspian talking about his first date with Antonio. He has that dazed, glowing look of someone who’s just survived a religious experience.
Noah’s at the table, filling in the last page of his dinosaur coloring book.
“So,” I say. “Tell me everything. But keep it G-rated.” I nod at Noah, who’s humming and coloring like he’s oblivious. But I know better. The kid has sonar for inappropriate words.
“He said it wasn’t a total waste of his time,” Caspian says proudly, like he just aced dating 101.
“I can hear the wedding bells already.”
He ignores me, eyes dreamy. “Before I left, he just stood there, knowing he was holding my fate in his hands.” His voice goes soft, reverent.
“Very dramatic,” I mutter.
“...and then he offered to make me a sandwich.”
I blink. “A sandwich?”
“Yes. For our second date,” Caspian explains, completely smitten. “He’s amazing,” he adds.
“And I saved the best for last — he kissed me. Quick, but real. On my mouth.” He points at his lips like they deserve to be bronzed. “Like it wasn’t a big deal… like my heart wasn’t skipping so many beats it was getting dangerous.”
I grin for him, but something sharp twists in my chest. A kiss like that. Simple. Fearless. Will I ever have that again with Xaden?
Then Caspian says, almost in awe: “Antonio di Scotti is so beautiful it hurts.”
“I like seeing you like this,” I tell him, and I really mean it. “Happy. Hopeful.”
Caspian lifts his mug in a toast. “Here’s hoping I don’t mess it up.”
Noah looks up. “Can I have a sandwich, Uncle Caspian?” Caspian ruffles his hair. “You can have as many as you want. The T-Rex sandwich special.”
Noah beams. For him, love is that easy — ask, and it arrives. If only the rest of life worked the same way.
Caspian glances at me, warm and reassuring. “I’m in no hurry. Take your time,” he says. He knows I’m going to see Dad.
“Thanks,” I murmur, kissing the top of Noah’s head. My stomach knots anyway.
I decide to walk, just to stretch the dread into something bearable.
I’m really not looking forward to this.
XADEN
Andrew’s garage looks like the five-star version of Frankie’s, and roughly a ten-star version of Dad’s garage at home.
Looking like it was built for a rich man’s play-pretend, it doesn’t even have that real garage smell of grease and gasoline. No grit underfoot, no oil stains. Just polished floors, expensive Scotch on the shelf, and the self-betrayal of someone who wants to believe he can still fix things.
I stand at the doorway, quiet, letting the bitter thoughts wash over me when I look at Andrew Hudson.
I compare him to my stubborn, kind-hearted dad.
He had the broad, muscular build of someone who worked his whole life, whereas Cole’s dad probably got his trim figure from a gym membership and whatever healthy diet Elaine keeps them both on.
But I’m not here to blame the man for getting fit on the treadmill. “Got a minute?” I ask, startling him on purpose. He drops the wrench with a clatter.
When he sees me, his whole body tenses. “Xaden,” he says, guarded. “Everything alright?”
“Depends on the thing.”
He swallows and wipes his hands on a spotless cloth, eyes weighing options. “If this is about Cole—”
“It isn’t,” I cut in. “Not directly.”
A nervous laugh. “You want a drink? Whisky, beer, soda?”
“I’m good.”
I step closer. No point dragging it out. The moment Frankie said Lexus, I knew. “Was the DUI the only thing Willard had on you,” I ask evenly, “or was there more?”
He goes still. Shoulders tight. “That was it,” he says finally. “I’d had too much one night. I thought I was fine. I wasn’t.”
He tells the story in the neutral voice of a newsreader: how he collided with a parked car, panicked and called Willard directly. The next thing he knew, the sheriff had made the whole thing vanish. “Didn’t even ask if I wanted it buried. Just handled it. And then came the favors.”
“You let him own you,” I say flatly. His face creases, shame tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I did,” he whispers. “And it’s eaten at me every day since.”
“When my dad started digging into Willard,” I press, “did you know?”
His throat works.
“I had a feeling. Your father came by once, mentioned inconsistencies. After he died, I asked a few questions. Willard told me to back off or else.” He looks down, voice breaking. “And I told myself keeping quiet was protecting Cole. But the truth? It was fear. Just fear.”
I rake a hand through my hair.
My dad had stood in this same town and refused to look the other way. He wasn’t afraid of being from the wrong side of Baywood.
He wasn’t afraid of the truth. But the truth buried him.
“I’m so sorry, Xaden,” Andrew says, quieter now.
“You knew I was dating your son. Did you ever think about what would happen when Cole found out who you protected?”
He flinches. “I thought about it every day. I saw the way he looked at you… the way you looked at him. I knew it wasn’t casual. I just—” he swallows hard, “I hoped it would burn out before it got too deep.”
“So you let it fall apart.”
His face twists. “I told myself it was better if Cole didn’t get dragged into all this.
That he deserved safety, not scandal. We had that…
situation with Lizzie, and Cole was already so shaken because of that.
But maybe I was just scared. I don’t even know anymore.
Scared of Willard, of losing everything.
” He shakes his head. “I chose silence for Cole and abandoned Lizzie. And I hate myself for both. Every day.”
I hear Dad in my head, voice rough but warm: The world doesn’t get to decide if you belong, kid. That’s your call.
“I’m glad I’m not from your East Bay world of secrets and corruption,” I say, voice sharp and bitter. He exhales, defeated, and pours himself a whiskey with a shaking hand.
“So what now? Does Cole know?”
“Not yet. But he will.”
He studies me, really studies me. No malice, only regret. “How’d you find all this? This goes deeper than garage gossip. You made a deal inside?”
“In a way, yes,” I say simply. Andrew looks blank, and I decide to take a risk. I see a defeated man in front of me, but also a man of dignity. He won’t rat me out to Willard. “I work for SBI.”
His eyes widen. “You’re a cop?”
I give him a crooked smile. “It’s not public knowledge so keep it to yourself but yeah. Here to serve.”
He sinks onto a stool. Then reaches into a drawer and pulls out a battered envelope. “I kept some things just in case; some notes, memos, council papers. Stuff that didn’t sit right. I didn’t know who else to give them to.”
I take the envelope. It’s heavy in my hands. Heavy enough to crush a town.
Dad had tried to speak. Andrew had decided not to.
Then— footsteps on concrete. I turn.
Cole is in the doorway. Frozen. Eyes flicking from me, to the envelope, to his father. “Dad?” he says, voice small.
Then he turns to me. His eyes are full of contempt. “You’re a cop? All this time, you’ve lied to me?”
“Cole—”
But he’s already running.
COLE
I don’t even remember leaving the garage. But suddenly I’m outside, running, the need to get away from all the lies fueling my steps. The pavement blurs beneath my feet. My lungs burn, sharp and raw, but I barely notice.
My mind is a thunderstorm of what the hell, how dare you, and is anything real with him?
Footsteps behind me. “Cole!”
I don’t stop. I do the opposite of stopping: I push harder. I might not be a runner like him, but no way in hell do I let him— He catches up.
I spin. My hands are shaking.
“Don’t you dare,” I snap, furious.
Xaden’s face twists. “Cole,” he says, low and urgent. “Just listen.”