9. Xander
Chapter 9
Xander
" T his is stupid behavior, Xander," I muttered to myself.
"You know you shouldn't be doing this."
It had been a couple of days since I’d checked over Amelia and I hadn’t heard anything since. As much as I didn’t want to admit it to myself, it was driving me crazy. I’d tried to occupy my time getting the first of the staff set up for the clinic at the ranch. That had been a bust as well. Even with the overly enthusiastic administration assistant feeling the need to keep me in the loop on everything , I couldn’t get Blake and Amelia out of my mind. The website for the rehab centre had been live for a month, and Reece had been getting traction on social media, we’d been inundated with enquiries.
None of us had expected the rush of interest and it was pushing the plans for the opening and the next stage of expansion into overdrive already.
I had so much on my plate right now, and the list of things that I was supposed to be doing today was longer than I could possibly complete.
And yet still I climbed into the truck, putting my medical bag on the seat next to me.
I'd just turned over the engine and was about to throw it into reverse when my phone rang. The clinic's number flashed on the screen. I sighed already knowing who it was going to be, and as much as I didn’t want to I answered anyway.
"Dr. Farrington."
"Xander, it's Marianne." The clinic administrator's voice was bright with excitement. "I wanted to update you on the registration numbers. We're officially fully booked for the first year."
My heart skipped a beat. "Already? We're still months from opening."
"Word is spreading fast. The waitlist is growing too." She hesitated. "People are asking if we can accept more patients or open earlier."
I ran a hand through my hair. "We need to stick to the timeline, Marianne. Quality of care comes first."
"I know, but maybe we could look at accelerating some of the plans? The demand is clearly there."
The pressure settled on my shoulders like a physical weight. "It’s not just my decision to make. I’ll speak with Trace and Booker today, see what they want to do. Honestly, I don’t see how it’s possible. We'd need to hire staff sooner, finish construction faster… It’s not as simple as just opening sooner. For now, let them know that we’re assessing the project timeline to see what we can do and we’ll put an update on the website in the next few days." That to-do list just grew exponentially, another complication I didn't need right now.
"It's a good problem to have," Marianne said cheerfully.
"Right. I'll call you back later." I hung up and dropped my phone on the seat.
The clinic was supposed to be my sole focus—my recovery, my future. Instead, here I was, about to drive to Trace's to check on Blake and the baby. Again.
I was jolted from my thoughts by a knock on the window. Turning to see my brother's scowling face on the other side of the glass was the last thing I needed.
"What's happened?" Booker rushed out as the window slid down.
I frowned in confusion and he nodded toward the medical bag on my seat.
Shit. I could see what this must look like.
"Nothing, I'm just heading over to Trace's to check on Blake."
Booker's scowling face broke into a grin and I wasn't sure which was worse.
"Well I'll be damned. Reece is right." He leaned his arms on the bottom of the window and grinned at me. "Tell me," he added.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yeah, you do."
I rolled my eyes, not knowing if it was him or me that I was doing it at. After all, Reece wasn't entirely wrong. It just wasn't going to end the way she wanted it to. Or start, if I had anything to say about it.
"Shut up. It's nothing. I'm doing a nice thing for someone who is supposed to be a friend. You know I can't... relationships aren't good for me right now."
Booker's frown came back, but this time it had that sympathetic edge I'd started to grow used to. That didn't mean it didn't infuriate me any less.
I was making this work. I was keeping myself clean. Having them all waiting for me to fall wasn't helping me any.
"Xander..."
"Leave it alone, Book. Are you around this afternoon? We need to talk about the clinic."
“Hmmm Marianne called me too. Who the hell gave her my number?” He scowled like someone had personally wronged him and I resisted the urge to tell him that he was her boss and she had to be able to contact him. “Reece is running some numbers. We can be ready by three to go over everything. You know, after you get back from…”
I threw the truck into reverse and started to pull away before he could say anything else. I didn't need to hear it.
Blake was too good for me and she was in a complicated situation right now. She didn't need me latching onto her and making it any worse.
I refused to let myself look in the rearview as I headed down the driveway. This was pathetic. I was a grown man lusting after the girl next door that was completely out of my league.
I should turn around now and head back home. It wasn't like I didn't have a million things I could be doing right now. I had what felt like a hundred resumes to go through, and interviews to set up. The clinic timeline would need to be accelerated—we'd need to hire staff faster, finalize equipment orders earlier, coordinate with suppliers...
But my heart just wasn't in it today.
So I was going to do the one thing I knew I shouldn't.
Because I couldn't keep away.
I ranted at myself for the entire drive there, which in reality took less than twenty minutes even if it did feel like hours.
The more I told myself it was a mistake, the more determined I was to do it.
And I realized it was because I genuinely did want to check in on them both. I needed to see with my own eyes that Blake was handling this whole thing. She was in an impossible situation and if there was anything I could do to make it easier for her, I'd do it in a second.
I didn't understand myself anymore.
Or maybe I did, but the denial and self-hatred was strong enough to make me pretend that I didn't.
And with that epiphany grating on my nerves, I pulled into Trace and Delaney's driveway and straight for the woman I'd been thinking about all night long.
The sight of the police cruiser outside of the house had my hands tightening on the wheel.
This wasn't good.
What had happened?
I knew I should have come back before now.
My gaze darted around checking for an ambulance even though it was obvious there wasn't one around. Trace would have called me if they needed help. I would have been here quicker than any ambulance.
As soon as I had the truck in park I grabbed my bag and leaped from the truck, taking the porch steps in a single bound and barging through the front door.
"Blake!" I yelled, striding into the house.
Her wide surprised eyes met mine as I made it to the kitchen door and found her sitting at the kitchen table with Ethan at her side.
I froze in the doorway, suddenly aware of the tight knot forming in my chest. Ethan had his hand on her knee. His hand. On her knee.
I hated him, and not just because of that casual touch that seemed far too intimate. The sudden surge of possessiveness caught me off guard. Where the hell had that come from?
Ethan had been a dick when we were growing up. Granted he was actually a pretty good guy now and did a lot for the town given his position as Sheriff. Right now, I couldn't think of a single redeeming feature for him though.
"Is everything okay?" Blake asked.
My gaze moved to little Amelia snoring softly in a bouncy chair that had been placed in the middle of the table.
"Yeah. Sorry. I saw Ethan's car and worried something had happened."
A soft smile came to Blake's face that had my inner caveman ready to roar. It was a look she should always have on her face. This scared version of Blake just didn't sit right with me.
Almost like my thoughts had brought it into existence, her smile fell and she turned back to Ethan.
"So there'll definitely be an investigation then?"
I knew what they were talking about, and I hated that she was having to go through this. I'd seen enough CPS interventions when I was doing my medical training to know most of the steps now. Obviously there was a reason why procedures like this had to be in place, but in this situation it didn't seem fair. There was nowhere better that Amelia could be, than right here with her Aunt who would love her dearly.
"I'm afraid so. I can give you a day to get what you need in order, but then I'll have no choice but to put the call through, Blake." Ethan winced. "I'm sorry."
He didn't have to specify what he was sorry about. It was fairly obvious from the grim look on his face. Ethan already knew that there was little chance Blake would be allowed to keep Amelia in her current circumstances.
Blake cleared her throat. It was the sound of someone trying desperately to keep their tears at bay, and it tore into me in a way I didn't want to experience.
Ethan stood and Blake slowly followed, no doubt intending to show him to the door. But then Ethan moved as if to wrap his arms around her.
I didn't know what came over me. Just that there was no way I was about to let that happen.
My hand darted out to wrap around Blake's waist and I tugged her into my side.
"Thank you for your time, Ethan," I growled out through clenched teeth.
The intensity of my reaction startled even me. This possessive feeling was entirely new—I'd never felt this territorial over anyone before. The rational part of my brain tried to argue that I was just being protective, but I knew better. This was something else entirely.
Ethan's gaze darted between the two of us and then he smiled, tipping his hat as he said, "Always a pleasure. I'll give you a call tomorrow to let you know when to expect a visit. I've already got your number."
The shit-eating grin on his face as he imparted that information made me want to punch him in the face and the force with which I felt it surprised me.
I leaned into it, liking the way it made me feel. This was the most alive I'd felt in years. The most like myself. It was like the fog had finally been lifted and I was seeing life in all the beautiful colors I'd been blind to for so many years.
It also took my mind off the way that Blake leaned into my side. How her hand had come up to rest against my chest.
And, most of all, the way I never wanted it to end.