16. Xander
Chapter 16
Xander
I sat on the couch with my elbows braced against my knees, staring at the floor like it might hold the answers to the panic simmering in my chest.
It was ridiculous, really.
Blake was just getting Amelia down for the night, and I was sitting here like I was waiting for a verdict to be read out in court.
This was supposed to be simple.
Two friends—roommates—helping each other out.
That's all this was.
Right.
Roommates .
Except my roommate was beautiful and funny and smart and had this infuriating way of twisting my insides into knots every time she smiled. She'd walked into my life like a thunderstorm—wild, and impossible to ignore.
And now she was living here, just down the hall, her pink hair leaving a trail of chaos through my carefully controlled world.
Yeah. This might have been a bad idea.
Still, I noticed something else too—something that stopped me cold.
I wasn't thinking about a drink.
I wasn't clawing my way through the evening, counting down the minutes until I could numb the nerves.
I felt everything—nerves, stress, want—and still, the craving hadn't come. That was new.
That was... good.
No, I wasn't fixed.
I'd never be fixed. But maybe I was stronger than I'd given myself credit for.
Maybe I was learning how to feel uncomfortable without needing to run from it.
I glanced at the clock.
8:03 p.m.
We probably needed to eat something.
I looked toward the kitchen and immediately kicked myself for not thinking about groceries earlier.
The fridge held a sad bottle of mustard, half a lemon, and what I was fairly sure used to be cheese.
I didn't even remember buying a lemon, let alone what had happened to the other half of it. I hadn't planned for this.
For Blake. For Amelia.
For a life that didn't revolve around keeping my head above water one day at a time.
My impulsive proposal had turned the life I was clinging to upside down, and yet I didn't regret it—not even slightly.
And suddenly, the cottage felt too empty.
Not in the quiet way it had just this morning, before they moved in, but in the practical, oh-shit-we-don't-have-anything kind of way. No diapers, no wipes, no baby bath, no—
This was what Reece had meant.
I hadn't realized how much a baby needed, or how quickly the expenses could pile up.
Blake hadn't said much, but I'd seen the worry in her eyes when she thought no one was looking.
I didn't know what she had saved, but I was willing to bet it wasn't enough.
And I also knew she'd rather chew glass than let me help her outright.
So I needed to get creative.
I sagged back against the couch with a sigh. First step? A grocery run. Tomorrow. I could tell her I was waiting to find out what she liked. It was a lie, but not the worst one I'd ever told.
Better than admitting I was a grown-ass man with a fridge that looked like it belonged to a college freshman.
A knock at the door startled me from my depressing thoughts.
I crossed the room, opened it, and blinked down at a checkered picnic basket on the step.
A folded note was tied to the handle.
Feed the girl and try not to be an ass.
Of course.
Reece.
I was going to have to talk to my meddling family again.
"Was someone at the door?"
I turned around, and the words caught in my throat.
Blake stood there in threadbare sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt, pink hair piled on top of her head like she'd just survived a tornado. She was barefoot, a little flushed, and completely breathtaking.
"Uh… yeah." I held up the basket. "It's a delivery from the meddling committee. Otherwise known as Reece."
Blake stepped forward, eyes lighting up when she read the note. "Oh, we could have so much fun with this," she said, grinning. "But I can't think of a single clever prank. I'm too tired. And hungry. And pretty sure Amelia just threw up in my hair."
She looked exhausted. But she also looked... radiant.
She hadn't given birth to Amelia, but somehow, motherhood had wrapped itself around her like it had always been waiting for her to show up. She wore it in the way she held that baby, how she shifted to meet every need without thinking. Maybe it was Amelia. I seemed to be powerless to her draw as well. What could I say? The kid was cute.
I cleared my throat and offered her a smile. "Tell you what. Let's raid this basket, and then I'll keep an ear out for Amelia while you take a hot shower and maybe even get some sleep."
"I will definitely take you up on that," she said, her smile soft and real in that way that made my chest ache.
We unpacked the basket together and sat cross-legged on the couch with a spread of sandwiches, pasta salad, fruit, and cookies between us. Reece might be a menace, but she had excellent taste.
"You really amaze me, you know," I said, watching Blake twist a napkin in her lap. "The way you've taken Amelia in without a second thought... the way you already love her like she's yours."
She looked up at me, and for a second, I thought I'd said too much.
"I'm terrified I'm doing it all wrong," she admitted quietly.
"You're not."
"You don't know that."
"I know you."
That shut her up.
We ate in companionable silence for a minute before she nudged my shoulder. "So… you hiring Billie was kind of a surprise. I didn't even know you'd opened up the clinic yet."
"It's still in the works. Billie's going to head up the physio side of things. Growing up, she was best friends with my brother, Gage."
Blake nodded slowly. "Still no word?"
"No, and I hate that he felt like this was his only option. I don't think he could live with seeing Trace every day after what our mother made him do. But I wish he'd come to me. That I'd been a good enough brother that he could've talked to me. All of this would have been so different if he had. Trace and Delaney wouldn't have lost so much time. Cade would have had a father. Maybe I'd have come back sooner, or never even left to begin with."
I looked down at my plate, suddenly unsure why I was sharing that. I hadn't even realized that was how I'd felt until it all came out.
I looked at Blake sitting quietly beside me. At the way she patiently listened with absolutely no judgment. And the rest of it just came pouring out of me. A confession, and maybe even a step forward toward figuring all my shit out.
"I feel so lost right now. All my life there was a plan, and I followed it. I never even realized it wasn't my plan. That I'd been set on a path and just done what I was supposed to do. And now? Now, I don't have a path, I don't have a plan, and I've got absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to do with my life."
Blake leaned back against the armrest, one knee pulled up. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Xander. None of us know what we're doing or where we're heading. Some people just find it easier to lay back and trust the current."
"Do you?"
She snorted. "Hell no. I'm fighting it every damn day. Like, for instance, I've worked all my life to have my art taken seriously. And someone did. They offered me an art show—just for me, for my work. That's the dream, right? The one thing I've been working toward all this time. I should be happy. But instead, I've been keeping it a secret because I'm too scared to admit I haven't painted a single new piece in two years. And if I'm being brutally honest with myself, the last time I did anything half-decent was probably four years ago."
I blinked. "Four years?"
She nodded.
"Do you know why?"
"If I knew that, I'd have fixed it already."
"Maybe you need to stop fighting the current too. Trust that it's taking you where you need to go."
She stared at me for a long time, something softening behind her eyes. "Most people would've told me to just try harder."
"I see you, Blake. I see how hard you try for everyone around you. Look at what you're doing for Amelia. If there's one person who doesn't need to try harder, it's you."
She didn't say anything for a second. Then she whispered, "Maybe there's something to this whole listening to the universe thing. It brought me here. To you."
She leaned toward me, her eyes drifting to my lips, and for a heartbeat, I thought she might kiss me. My pulse hammered in my throat as I caught the faint scent of her shampoo, mixed with baby powder and something uniquely Blake.
Then the baby monitor crackled with Amelia's restless whimper, and Blake pulled back, the moment shattering between us.
"I should check on her," she said, her voice husky.
I caught her wrist as she stood, my thumb brushing over her pulse point. "I've got this one. Go take that shower."
Our eyes met, and the tension between us was a living thing, crackling with everything unsaid. I watched her swallow, a flush creeping up her neck.
"Xander..." Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"This is complicated enough," I said, forcing myself to let go of her wrist. "My recovery... Amelia... I don't want to mess this up."
The truth was, I was terrified. Not of wanting her—that ship had sailed the moment she'd stormed into my life. I was terrified of what happened after. Of not being strong enough to be what she needed. What Amelia needed.
Blake nodded, disappointment and relief warring in her expression. "You're right. We're just getting our footing here. This arrangement... it's too important to complicate."
"Exactly."
She took a step back, tucking a strand of pink hair behind her ear. "I'll, um... I'll go take that shower then."
I watched her disappear down the hall, then dropped my head into my hands.
The irony wasn't lost on me. For the first time in my adult life, I was choosing the responsible path. The right path. And it was the hardest thing I'd ever done.
I stood and headed toward Amelia's room, needing the distraction of the baby's simple needs.
Because the truth I couldn't admit to Blake—or maybe even to myself—was that now that I'd seen how close we could come to crossing that line, I wasn't sure how long I could keep pretending that this was just an arrangement.
Or that my heart wasn't already completely, terrifyingly involved.