Xavier
Icrouch and stroke Bullet’s head. He wiggles happily, tongue out, nudging my cheek with his nose. “Should’ve known you’d come out unscathed.” This dog is invincible.
When I stand, Yale hugs me. “You okay?”
I hold onto him, closing my eyes as I allow myself to accept that he’s really here. He’s alive. He’s okay. “Yeah. You?”
“I will be when we’re all back together.”
Sooner rather than later, I hope. I pull back from the hug. “I need to shower.”
Yale steps back, returning his attention to Silence, and as they talk I go to the bathroom.
Dropping the bags by the door, I drag my T-shirt over my head and unbutton my jeans. Leaving my clothes in a heap, I step under the cold spray of the shower, waiting for it to warm. Blood and dirt swirl around the drain, and I close my eyes, resting my forehead against the tiles.
Zayden is fine. He has to be. He’s delayed. Hell, maybe he took the rest of them out. He might be exhausted and grabbing a few hours of sleep before coming here. Maybe he went to a different safe house. Maybe—
Maybe he’s dead.
I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes closed, but the tears win. They mix with the shower water, and I throw my fist into the tile, the pain offering temporary satisfaction. So I hit the same spot again. And again.
“Xavier.” I keep hitting, keep letting the tears flow, until Silence forces me to turn and face her. “Xavier, don’t, please.” She cups my face, her eyes shining. “I need you. Please don’t fall apart.”
Pressure builds in my chest, an overwhelming weight that crushes my lungs. “I should’ve stayed,” I gasp out.
She kisses my cheeks. “You said yourself he’d never forgive you if you’d left me. I hate asking this of you, but please, please don’t crumble. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m scared, Xavier. I’m so scared.”
She clings to me, her clothes soaking through, her body trembling against mine.
The hours weigh heavy on my heart, but Silence is right. I can’t crumble. Yale might have lived this life, but he’s on an entirely different side of the coin. He can strategize, but when it comes to leading … that now falls to me.
Is this how Zayden feels all the time?
It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I need to step up, and I need to do it now.
I pull back from Silence’s embrace, and she sniffs, wiping her eyes. Reaching for the hem of her pajama top, she pulls it off and pushes down the bottoms. Together, we stand under the spray, her back to my chest, my face buried in her neck.
I release her, only to pour shampoo in my hands and work it into her hair.
She closes her eyes as I massage her scalp, focusing on the task and not on what happens after we leave this room.
Foam runs through Silence’s hair as she rinses out the shampoo and faces me before applying conditioner.
Then she pushes herself onto her tiptoes and washes my hair, light brows furrowed in concentration.
This isn’t the time to think about the conversation we had before the explosion, but still, it’s on my mind.
Losing Silence shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.
We met once in an alley, where we teased each other, and I proposed.
But when I left that night, she was all I thought about.
I’d seen her in the bar before, laughing and smiling with her colleagues, singing along to the music, wiggling her hips. Maybe I fell in love with her then.
I didn’t tell my brothers. I convinced myself I would never see her again, and even if I did, she wasn’t going to marry a stranger.
But I did see her again.
Except she was dancing with my brother. He spun her in circles, laughing as she sang, her hair lifting, her eyes bright. I watched them kiss, watched them laugh, and hours later, watched them exchange vows.
I’ll never, ever hate Zayden for it. Not even close. Even if he’d known, it was clear Silence was more suited to him. So, over the years, I distanced myself from her, and Zayden saw through it. He never questioned me, though. Never confronted me over my obvious feelings.
It was four years into their marriage when I came home one night to Yale in my kitchen. He was drunk, which he never is, and his eyes were filled with tears. I don’t know what triggered that reaction, maybe it all just got too much for him, but I knew exactly why he was there.
He loved her, too.
So, we got drunk, and I told him about Vegas. He told me he’s always loved her, and he hates himself for it.
We never spoke about it again.
Except, after Silence rushed to the bedroom last night, Zayden had looked at me and said five words.
“Tell her. Both of you.”
My big brother. Only by minutes, but still. Selfless. Trusting.
And now he isn’t here.
“Xavier,” Silence says quietly, and I’m brought back to the moment. Her fingertip is resting just below my knife wound, to the tattoo I’ve been hiding for years. Inked with curled thorns and forget-me-nots, a sparrow mid-flight between it all, and over that sparrow—the letter Q.
She looks at me, eyes wide, lips parted. “This is why—” I nod tightly, and I hate that she’s crying again, but I can only hope they’re happy tears. She kisses me, arms around my shoulders. “I love you. I love you so much. I always have.”
The confession has something taking flight inside me. I return the kiss, and I hold her to me—the only woman I’ve ever loved. The only one I felt worthy enough to love. Who made me realize it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if someone as good as her loved me back.
That maybe I wouldn’t fail her.
Maybe I could do right by her.
Maybe we all could.
She whispers she loves me, over and over, and I say the same.
And I’ll say it every day for the rest of my life.