10. Blake
Chapter 10
Blake
I didn't hate the weight of Xander's arm around my shoulders.
Not at all, which was the problem.
I should pull away. Put distance between us.
Focus on the impossible task ahead of me.
But I didn't want to. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
His warmth seeped into me, solid and steady, while my mind raced through the steps Ethan had outlined earlier. Guardianship. Legal custody. Home studies. References. Background checks. Financial stability.
Impossible.
The word echoed in my brain, a relentless drumbeat that grew louder with each passing second. How was I supposed to navigate the legal system in the timeframe we had? How was I supposed to convince a judge that I—single, trying to make it as an artist, no steady income, essentially crashing with my friends—was the best option for Amelia?
And if I couldn't, what then?
Foster care? Let Delaney and Trace take her instead?
The pressure built in my chest, and it felt like the walls were closing in around me.
I couldn't breathe, the weight of the situation crushing me, cutting off my air until I couldn't hold it in anymore.
A sob escaped, bursting out in one loud exhale of sorrow.
Then another, and suddenly I was crying—really crying—for the first time in a long time.
"Hey, hey," Xander murmured, shifting in an instant to pull me fully into his arms. His hand moved to stroke my hair, gentle and soothing against my scalp.
"It's going to be okay, Blake. We'll figure this out. I promise."
We.
Such a simple word, but it wrapped around me like a security blanket.
I buried my face against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his soap mixed with the cedar of his aftershave.
His heartbeat thumped steadily under my ear, and something about its unwavering rhythm calmed my racing thoughts.
"We're not going to let anything happen to Amelia," he said, his voice a low rumble I could feel against my cheek. "Whatever it takes, whatever you need—I'm here."
And the crazy thing was, I believed him.
With his arms around me and his words washing over me, I actually started to believe we might get through this impossible situation.
It meant so much to me that he wasn't trying to downplay what was happening. He wasn't trying to talk me out of trying to keep her.
He understood me. This man I barely knew and took far too much enjoyment in slightly harassing.
He knew me. He saw me.
And I liked it.
After a few minutes, heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks.
I pulled back, embarrassed at my breakdown.
"Sorry," I mumbled, wiping at my face.
"I don't usually—"
Oh god, please don't let there be snot all over his shirt.
"Don't apologize," Xander said firmly. "Not for caring."
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear nervously, only to feel his hand reach up and gently brush away another that I'd missed. His fingers lingered against my cheek, just a moment too long to be casual. Our eyes met, and something electric passed between us—an awareness that hadn't been there before, or maybe had always been there but neither of us had acknowledged.
His hand dropped slowly, and I found myself missing his touch the moment it was gone.
He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before standing up. "Coffee? I think we could both use some."
"God, yes," I replied, gratitude washing through me. "Caffeine might be the only thing keeping me upright at this point."
Maybe we could just pretend this didn't happen. Just breeze past it like a minor breakdown blip that didn't need to be looked at too closely.
Xander moved to the kitchen without mentioning what had just happened. He didn't even check his shirt for snot, but I definitely had. He quietly moved around, setting up the coffee pot and pulling mugs from the cupboard. It had to be a coincidence that he immediately reached for my favorite mug, there was no way he could possibly know.
I watched him in fascination, his calm presence giving me a reassurance I desperately needed. The fact that he could move to do this normal, everyday task when I was internally waiting for the sky to start falling, had to mean it wasn't as bad as I thought it was. It couldn't be. Because Xander was making coffee. He wasn't freaking out. He was trying to brainstorm the situation and every possible solution. He'd simply told me that we were going to figure it all out and I... believed him.
A soft whimper drew my attention to the table where we'd placed Amelia's bouncy seat. Her face scrunched up, little limbs starting to wiggle as she stirred from her nap. The pacifier had fallen from her mouth, landing in a little drool puddle on her chest. It shouldn't have looked as adorable as it did. I started to get up to go to her, but Xander was already there.
"Hey, little bug," he said, voice dropping to that gentle tone I'd only heard him use with Amelia. His large hand looked almost comically big as he carefully tucked the pacifier back between the baby's lips. "There you go. Back to sleep now."
His finger stroked Amelia's cheek, and she settled immediately, eyes fluttering closed. Xander stayed there a moment longer, just watching her, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
I felt something shift inside me as I watched him.
Here was Xander Farrington, the family's first call whenever a situation turned scary, the guy who'd left his life in the city behind and come back to Willowbrook, the small town he'd gone to such lengths to avoid. And yet, now he was here, he was the one we looked to when someone got hurt. He was the calm in those desperate situations when it felt like everything was falling apart.
And he didn't see it.
He didn't see how much we needed him, how much he gave. His head was filled with so much doubt that he'd lost himself.
I knew that feeling.
Intimately.
Maybe I could help him, maybe the two of us could stumble along together and find something of ourselves along the way.
Xander moved back to the coffee maker, measuring beans with practiced precision. As he worked, I really looked at him. The scruff that started to shadow his jaw. The preppy shirts and starched slacks he'd originally shown up in were long gone now in favor of jeans and a henley. Jeans that molded to his ass in a way that should have been illegal.
And I was staring at Delaney's brother-in-law's ass.
Was I even allowed to do that? It felt kinda wrong. Like he was family through proximity. And yet, I realized I didn't want him to be. I didn't want my link to this man to be through someone else. I wanted to be closer than that. And that realization hit me with a surprising force.
When was the last time someone had made Xander coffee? When did we last make sure that he was okay? That he didn't need us as much as we needed him. Was anyone checking in with him? Asking what they could do to make things easier for him. Checking how he felt about moving his life here.
I wanted to be that person. I wanted to be the one who made sure Xander Farrington was taken care of for once. That he wanted this life he seemed to have been maneuvered into building here.
Xander had stayed away from Willowbrook for so long and only came home to see his brothers. To meet the nephew he'd never known about. And somehow in all that, he'd never left. Now he was investing in his brother's ranch, and building a new medical practice to help Booker realize a dream that had been on the verge of disappearing. But was it what he actually wanted, or was this Xander coming to the rescue again and this time doing it at the cost of what he wanted out of life.
Maybe it was just the magic of Willowbrook. It wasn't that long ago that I'd driven into this town helping out Delaney and then decided I never wanted to leave.
Xander and I weren't really that different in that respect.
The coffee maker gurgled to life, filling the kitchen with its rich aroma. Xander glanced over his shoulder, caught me watching him, and raised an eyebrow.
"What?" he asked, a half-smile playing on his lips.
I shook my head slightly, not quite ready to examine these new feelings too closely. "Nothing," I said. "Just... thank you."
His smile widened, genuine and warm, creasing those lines around his eyes. "What are friends for?"
Friends.
Was that what we were? It didn't seem like enough of a word for what was happening between us, for what he was doing for me and Amelia. For the way my heart had just skipped when he smiled.
But it was a start.