Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
The security guardssuggested that Jasper should head home, but as Xander’s PR representative, I should stick around for the post-game press conference. However, Xander was speedy with the press, and he practically ditched them to rush us to his car.
I decided not to contradict him, adamant about maintaining cordiality. Throughout the day, I heard endless praise and adoration for him and caught a glimpse of the man I once knew. He was a stand-up guy, and it made me question whether his recent actions were intentionally malicious or merely misguided.
He accused me of fighting him at every turn. Perhaps instead of provoking him, I could use empathy to guide him into making the right decision.
Except Xander was dead quiet on the drive home. For a man who played the game of his life, this seemed abnormal. Something was bothering him, I could tell.
“Great game today. Congrats.”
He nodded but added nothing more to the conversation.
“You were phenomenal.”
His eyes flicked to me. They warmed before he said a sly, “Thanks.”
“Should I put some music on?” I asked, desperate to break the silence.
He shrugged, though his body language suggested he preferred the quiet. I picked at a loose thread that was beginning to unravel on the hem of the jersey.
“I think I might pick up food from Jacquard’s,” he mused, speaking into the hush. “I’m guessing you haven’t had dinner yet.”
“They brought me food at the stadium,” I protested.
“You hate bar food,” he commented offhandedly, and I blinked in surprise. Did he notice me picking at my food last night? “Jacquard’s has good takeout. Jasper likes it, too.”
I nodded absentmindedly, suddenly liking the idea. I couldn’t remember the last time Jasper enjoyed a family meal because Henry always tore into him every time he came over for dinner. While I appreciated my time with Jasper tonight, his presence had been rare in my life after he turned eighteen. I didn’t blame him for not visiting or for not wanting to be around his father. Perhaps it was time to create some new memories for him, sans Henry.
“I can cook something,” I offered, surprising us both.
Xander looked at me, one dark eyebrow raised skeptically. “You told me you couldn’t cook.”
A flush rose up my throat, remembering our discussion at the cake tasting. That was years ago. He remembered?
“I’m not completely hopeless. I can make simple things like baked chicken or a vegetarian dish,” I said. “You have food at home, don’t you?”
He looked away from the road again to give me another searching look. With his eyebrows drawn and his mouth compressed, he looked thoughtful. Older.
“You’re not a servant,” he said. “I didn’t bring you here to cook and clean.”
Then what did you bring me here for? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t. I was afraid of the answer.
“I want to,” I said and was relieved when he left it to that.
Xander had a very well-stocked fridge, one befitting a dietician more than an athlete in his early twenties. I saw lots of freshly squeezed juice, local meats, cheese, and crisper drawers filled with fruits and vegetables. I wondered if he purchased all of these himself or if he had a member of his staff do it. “Do you cook?” I asked as I got out the ingredients I wanted.
“When I have time.” He watched from the far wall, arms folded over his chest. My mouth went dry when I saw he had changed into a pair of gray sweatpants and a white cotton T-shirt. “What are you making?”
I blanked for a few minutes before remembering I had landed on those ingredients. It was one of Xander’s favorites.”A quiche, I think.”
His mouth turned up. “I love quiches.” His eyes followed me as I moved around the kitchen as if relishing that I remembered.
Eyeing the contents of his fridge, I added hastily, “They’re easy to make. All you need are eggs, milk, cheese, pie crust, and whatever you want to add as filling.” Despite knowing the answer, I asked, “How do you feel about spinach?”
The wolfish grin on his face returned. “It’s my favorite vegetable.”
“Then that’s what we’ll have,” I decided out loud.
It had been years since I’d worked my way through a kitchen. Jenna had taken care of everything like the lifesaver she was. But as I chopped up chives and spinach, cracked the eggs, and measured out the ingredients—just like I’d done when I was responsible for taking care of myself—I was hit with a wave of nostalgia.
I had missed this.
Pie crust was the one thing Xander didn’t have in his fridge, but it was easy enough to bake from scratch with flour, butter, water, salt, and a dash of cornstarch.
Jasper joined us while the quiche was in the oven. “Hi, Jordan,” he said, wandering into the kitchen.He had showered and changed since returning home, whereas I had only managed to change into my customary black leggings and a button-down flannel shirt—one of today’s purchases that made me feel at home in Canada.
Jasper watched me unsurely for a bit. He still seemed confused about the dynamics between me and his brother, and I still didn’t know how Xander explained my reason for turning up in Canada to escape Henry. Xander was frustratingly tight-lipped at times.
There were so many other unanswered questions, too. The most important one was what Xander Maxwell wanted with me.As evidenced by today, he could have any woman on earth.
“Can I help with anything?” Jasper asked after a few awkward moments.
“How are you at chopping?”
“I can learn,” he offered.
I set him to work at the cutting board. Xander watched him butcher the vegetables for a few seconds before bending to whisper something and taking his place. I watched him dice the tomatoes before going to the oven to check on the quiche. It had been about forty-five minutes, and the crust was turning golden brown.
“This is much better than the pre-made sandwiches he shoves down my throat whenever I visit,” Jasper said enthusiastically.
Xander eyed him. “I thought you liked Jacquard’s.”
“Yeah, but ready-to-eat bachelor cuisine gets old after a while. Nothing beats home-cooked.” He fell silent, a tortured look crossing his face, which made me wonder whether he remembered his mother cooking for him before her accident. From what I knew, Jasper was young when it happened.
“How were your finals?” Xander asked gruffly, shoving aside the pile of neatly cubed tomatoes.
“I had two finals,” Jasper said.“The rest were term papers.”
“How did they go?”
“I feel pretty good about them, but I won’t know for another week.”
“You’ll crush it,” Xander said. “You always do.”
I watched them, almost in awe. Xander took an interest in Jasper’s life in a way Henry had never bothered to. In a way, he took on the father-figure role that Henry had willfully ignored.
Since he returned to my life, it had become abundantly clear that Xander was no longer the boy I once met. His personality was the same, and the unspoken rapport we shared hadn’t changed either, but he was now an established man who acted far beyond his age. The exchange with Jasper only solidified my theory.
It broke my heart that Henry couldn’t see him as the respectable man he had turned out to be and held him to impossible standards that basically guaranteed failure. He must take after his mother, I thought, watching him set the table while exchanging light banter with Jasper.
While they continued to catch up, I took the quiche out of the oven. It was perfectly baked. I always thought cooking was about intuition and baking was about instruction. If you could read a list on paper and follow directions, you could bake. That was what I loved about it.
Jasper insisted on dressing the salad, looking to me for approval as he held up a lemon balsamic vinaigrette. Neither of them had ever looked this relaxed at home.
“This looks amazing, Jordan,” Jasper said happily, loading his plate with a slice.
“It’s super easy to make,” I said with a laugh, pleased. “This was my mother’s recipe.”
“It’s good,” Xander said. “Really good. I’m impressed, jailbird.”
Jailbird.
I flinched at the nickname. I hadn’t realized how much I had let myself relax until I felt my shoulders tense and remembered our reality.
I glanced at Jasper, who had looked up from his plate with his fork in the air. He frowned at the nickname that had accidentally slipped from Xander’s mouth. Though he said nothing about it, he instinctively sensed the change in the atmosphere the way only a boy with a father like Henry could have.
The sound of a phone broke the tense silence. Xander reached into his pocket, excused himself, and went to the hall.
“Henry texted me after I got home,” Jasper said once Xander was out of earshot, looking at me with big eyes.
I stilled.
“He saw us on the jumbotron and wanted to talk,” he explained. “But I didn’t respond,” he added quickly.
I nodded slowly. “Thank you.” I couldn’t imagine a world where Jasper would betray me for Henry.
“I’m sorry again about my father,” he said. It was evident the guilt had been eating him alive since he found out.
“It’s not your fault, sweetie,” I said, staring at my own plate. I had served myself too much, and finishing it now seemed daunting. “I don’t think any of us could have known what a monster he’d turn out to be.”
Jasper scoffed. “Oh, we knew. We just didn’t think you’d believe us.”
I couldn’t argue the fault. Xander did warn me about Henry, and I hadn’t listened. I’d been convinced he didn’t want me to marry Henry because he thought I was a gold digger.
But it was never about money or even a great love story.The truth was that I married Henry because I felt indebted to him for taking over my conservatorship. If I had truly loved him, I’d be devastated about my marriage falling apart. As it stood, I was more worried about not falling into the same trap.
“No, don’t move her,” Xander said from the hallway. “I’ll be right there.”
I glanced at Jasper, who appeared to be listening just as intently. His mouth tightened.
Xander’s grim expression matched Jasper’s when he returned to the room, holding his phone in a tight, white-knuckled grip.
“Mom?” Jasper asked, and Xander nodded grimly.
“They were showing a movie in the break room that set her off. She had another episode. Apparently, she hit another patient and got pushed onto a table. It made her head bleed.” His eyes went to the remnants of our dinner, and he shook his head. “I have to go check on her.”
“Do you need me there?” Jasper asked, not appearing overly enthusiastic even as he made the offer.
I had never met their mother—Eirini—face-to-face. However, I’d heard she suffered bouts of irritation and anger from her brain damage, which generally ended with her throwing a fit. Jasper loathed dealing with the fallout, and I think Xander knew it, too.
He shook his head. “I think having both of us there at the same time might incite things more.”
Jasper didn’t argue and began clearing the dishes before mumbling a “Good night.”
Xander ran his fingers through his hair, and I wasn’t surprised when he grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the door. He glanced at me in disbelief when I didn’t voice a protest.
He didn’t know I’d been determined to play nice, but this wasn’t just about my resolve not to fight him at every turn.
Right now, I couldn’t digest the idea of him driving alone to the nursing home while his mother was in a state. He must’ve known as his eyes softened, making him look instantly older.
The engine was still ticking as it cooled down from the last drive in the wintry air. Xander swung in behind the wheel, letting out a harsh breath. Out of sight of his brother, his shoulders sagged, and his fingers tightened hard enough to divot the plastic.
The drive was mercifully short, and for the duration of it, Xander’s shoulders remained tense in a way I hadn’t seen before, making me wonder what kind of new hell we were in for.