CHAPTER 8
SAMANTHA
Over the next few days, I was relieved to discover that Xander didn’t seem eager to pull back from talking about small, personal things, even though he hadn’t revealed anything more about the traumatic murder of his parents. He started suggesting daily trips to the beach, and we’d joke around, but to my disappointment, he didn’t try to kiss me again.
We settled into a regular routine. He worked out early in his home gym, so I cooked breakfast at about the same time every morning, and then he’d wander into his office to use the computer, or turn on the television while I did whatever cleaning I needed to do. By lunch, I was almost always done tidying up, so we ate something easy, then headed to the beach. Strangely enough, he started joining me while I cooked dinner. He usually offered to help, and I let him. I gave him the simple tasks, and slowly taught him to make what he liked to eat. I didn’t care if he was a billionaire who never had to lift a finger to do anything for himself. Basic cooking was important, and if he didn’t want anybody in his home, he’d need the skills when I was gone.
I tried not to think about the day—not very far in the future—when I’d have to leave Amesport. But I would go. I was here for only one purpose, and when it was accomplished, I’d move on.
All of the things he’d joined me in weren’t exactly a big achievement, but just the fact that Xander had begun to take an interest in anything was encouraging.
In the evenings, we’d either argue over what to watch on TV, or we’d read. I’m not sure why I was surprised that Xander read a wide variety of books. Maybe it wasn’t fair to assume he wasn’t the reading type just because he was a former rocker with some very sexy tattoos. But it did intrigue me. The guy was a multifaceted mystery, and I never got tired of learning the little details that made him even more appealing than he already was to me.
“It’s weird that I haven’t seen Liam or Julian lately,” he commented casually one day at breakfast. “I don’t think they’ve ever gone a whole week without stopping over.”
I’d finished my food, and was nursing a cup of coffee as I replied, “They’re both in New York with Tessa and Micah. Julian gave me the dates he’d be gone when I first got here. I hope Tessa’s surgery went okay.”
Xander put his mug back on the table and looked at me with a frown. “She had the surgery?”
“Didn’t Micah tell you?” Okay, I understood that Xander probably wasn’t particularly supportive right now, but I thought his brother would have at least told him about Tessa’s upcoming operation. “They’re doing her cochlear implants today. Everybody left a few days ago because she needed some more pre-op testing.”
“Fuck!” he cursed, then stood. “I didn’t know it was today. Micah told me, but I guess I wasn’t connecting the dates. One day runs into the next for me sometimes.”
“It’s today. Julian and Liam are both in New York with Micah. Hopefully Tessa will be out of the hospital by tomorrow.”
“I should be there. Did Kristin go?”
I nodded. “They all wanted to be there.”
“And they just assumed I wouldn’t want to go,” he answered in a disappointed tone. “I get it. They don’t trust me.”
My heart clenched as I looked up into his vulnerable dark eyes, hurting for the man who wanted so badly to be close to his brothers again but didn’t know how to reach out. Xander needed to tell Micah and Julian the truth. It was the only way he was ever going to understand that neither of his brothers were going to find fault with him for what happened. “Can you blame them?” I asked gently. “They worry about you, and the last thing they’d want to do is put any pressure on you.”
“It’s not pressure,” he protested in a deep, heartfelt voice. “They’re my fucking brothers. They’re all I have left. Micah loves Tessa. If anything ever happened to her, he’d never survive it.”
I felt my eyes well up with tears, but I tried to keep it together. It was the first time I’d actually seen an emotional reaction other than anger from Xander. He was openly hurt, and he wasn’t hiding it.
“She’ll be okay,” I reassured him. “The surgery isn’t any more dangerous than any other routine operation.”
“It doesn’t matter. Micah’s got to be freaking out by now.” He paused for a moment before he said, “I want to be there, too. I like Tessa. She’s gone out of her way to make me feel like part of the family.”
“Then go. It isn’t like you don’t have a private jet sitting at the airport like almost every other Sinclair in this town, right? It’s not that long of a flight to New York.”
“I-I don’t get out much,” he said in a hesitant voice.
“But you could.”
“Some noises make me have flashbacks,” he admitted.
“You can fight through it. The more you get out, the better I think it will be.”
“Will you come with me?” he asked uncertainly.
The vise around my heart constricted even tighter. I knew Xander rarely asked for anything. “Of course. If you want me to go with you.”
I knew Xander was uncertain about his scars, and his lingering PTSD. It kept him alone, isolated. But the fact that his love for his brother and his sister-in-law was bigger than his fear touched me so deeply that I almost couldn’t hold back my tears.
He nodded solemnly. “Can you be ready to go soon?”
I stood. “Twenty minutes,” I promised. “Let me just throw a change of clothes in my suitcase in case you want to stay.”
“I do,” he confirmed. “Throw in a couple of outfits just in case.”
I hurriedly dumped our dishes in the sink, then headed for the stairs. I stopped next to him on my way to get a suitcase together. I rose onto my tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You’re a good brother, Xander.”
No matter how much he tried to be indifferent, he loved his brothers, and he missed them.
He shook his head. “I suck. I should have planned to be there. I should have known.”
“You’re going to be there,” I reminded him right before I sprinted up the stairs to go get my things, feeling like I’d just had a tiny glimpse of Xander’s heart.
He wanted to be with his brothers. He wanted to be supportive, but his guilt and self-loathing had kept him at a distance for such a long time.
“It’s time to rejoin the world, Xander,” I whispered to myself as I piled stuff into my suitcase with a lighter heart.
I wasn’t used to traveling like a rich person.
Xander’s private jet was an extravagance I couldn’t even imagine owning. It was funny how he took it in stride, climbing aboard the luxury aircraft without even thinking about how lucky he was to have it. But it made sense. The Sinclairs were all outrageously wealthy, and had been since the day they were born. None of them had ever known how to live any other way but large.
“This is amazing,” I said as the jet took off.
We were seated next to each other in plush leather seats, although we really didn’t need to be close to each other. The cabin was spacious, and in addition to the big, comfortable seats we were in, there was a table with chairs, and a sofa that took up part of one wall.
“Is it?” he asked, sounding confused. “It’s just a jet.”
“Okay, it’s amazing to me,” I corrected. “I didn’t grow up rich, and I’m not rich now. I travel the usual way, in a crowded plane with people almost on top of each other.”
“I flew commercial once. I hated it,” he said with a grimace.
I put my hand over my chest in mock surprise. “How horrible. I’m sorry you had to go through that. It must have been incredibly difficult to not have your private jet available.”
I saw a small smile form on his lips as he answered, “Okay, smartass. Yes, I managed to live through it. My jet needed service and I had a concert date I didn’t want to miss.”
I lifted a brow. “First class?”
He turned his head to look at me, sending me a teasing, warning look. “Of course.”
“Then you didn’t really fly commercial. First class has space; they have service. It’s just kind of limited compared to a private jet. Try going economy so you can see how real people travel.”
“I’m real,” he argued.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m talking about the large percentage of the population who can’t afford a private jet or first class.”
“I was trying to keep a low profile,” he grumbled.
I laughed. “I’m not blaming you for traveling in a way you can afford. I’m trying to make you see that most people just don’t live that way. You’re lucky.”
“Yeah. I suppose I am. I’ve never actually thought about it. I guess I’ve never really considered that I’m different. I’ve never considered myself better than any of my friends who couldn’t afford it.”
“You aren’t better. You’re just richer,” I joked, getting a kick out of giving him a hard time.
“Is that bad?”
“No. But being wealthy has its advantages.”
“Like what?”
I took a deep breath. I so wanted to tell him that most people couldn’t just drop out of society without being concerned about how to make a living. In some ways, his wealth had enabled him to be a loner. Because I didn’t want him to take offense, I was careful with my words. “You can work when you want to, and aren’t forced to work. That’s something a regular person couldn’t possibly understand.”
“They’re lucky in some ways, too. I wish I was forced to work. I wouldn’t have had the money for drugs or alcohol, and maybe I wouldn’t have become such a selfish prick. I do what I can from home. I took over the management of my personal wealth, learned how to invest it and how to make more money even though I’m basically trapped in my own house. But I can’t really say I’m working.” He looked out the window, his voice thoughtful.
So that was what he was doing in his office after breakfast.
I had no doubt he was sincere. I’d learned enough about Xander to understand that he wasn’t idle by choice. In fact, he did seem trapped sometimes, even though the barriers weren’t physical. He was isolated by fear and guilt that had turned into some pretty unhealthy escapism habits. “You learned investment strategies online?”
He shrugged. “I learned a lot of things by reading. Fuck knows I’ve had the time. I could have several online degrees by now if I wanted them.”
He was laughing at himself, but not in a bad way. “Should I call you Dr. Sinclair?” I asked, playing along.
His big body shuddered. “Fuck, no. We already have a doctor in the family, my cousin Dante’s wife, Sarah. I admire the hell out of her skills, but I saw enough of doctors and pain in the hospital. Not my thing.”
“Were you in there for a long time when you were first injured?”
“Too damn long,” he answered gruffly. “It took weeks, and more operations than I could count. By the time I was finally coherent, both my parents were dead and buried, and I’d never even been able to go to the funeral. I never got to say good-bye.”
His sorrow struck a nerve, and I felt my stomach lurch in empathy. “I’m sorry. That had to have been difficult.”
“It was. But I was a coward, Samantha. I wanted to run away and hide.”
“It’s a protective instinct,” I argued. “I think most people would want to escape.”
“What I did was put more stress on Micah and Julian. Especially Micah. Every time I fucked up, he had to fly across the country to help my miserable ass. I hated myself, but I couldn’t fucking stop.”
His voice was husky with emotion, and a ton of regret.
I reached out and took his big hand in mine, hoping he wouldn’t reject my attempt to comfort him. “It’s over, Xander. Don’t keep beating yourself up about something you can’t change. You were in a bad state of mind. Your brothers love you. They just don’t understand you right now.”
He squeezed my hand lightly as he snorted. “Hell, I can’t blame them. I’m not sure I understand myself.”
Fortunately, I understood him just fine. He was a man consumed by pain. A guy who hadn’t learned to cope or forgive himself. Xander was frozen in grief while the rest of the world and his family was moving on. “I know. But be patient with yourself. What happened to you is something most people can’t even begin to understand. Something that traumatic doesn’t touch most people’s lives.”
He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. “I miss them so damn much.”
The agony in his tone made me entwine our fingers, trying to make him understand that I cared. “I know.”
“They say time heals all wounds, but mine still feel fresh. It’s like it happened yesterday. Nothing changes. Time is a blur, and not a damn thing is different.”
He’d spent several years in denial and escape, so the pain was probably still very fresh. “Patience,” I said in a soothing voice. “You haven’t been clean for that long.”
“Being clean sucks,” he complained.
I smiled. “It might for a while, but eventually you’ll feel differently.”
“I fucking hope so. If not, I’m eventually going to get a big-ass bottle and drown out the world.”
I knew he wasn’t serious. Xander had struggled too hard to stay off the substances that had blocked out everything and everybody. He was raw right now with nothing to ease the pain. “If you weren’t clean, you wouldn’t be going to support Micah.”
“I would hate that,” he admitted. “I’ve missed so damn much. My brothers are married. Two of my cousins are expecting their first kid. It’s like life kept moving on while I was standing still.”
“You can catch up,” I told him in a calming tone.
I turned my head to see him staring at me.
“Are you always so damn optimistic? It’s still a little bit annoying,” he said with a grin that made my heart stutter.
I shrugged. “Every day is a gift. Why waste it being negative?”
“Doesn’t anything bad ever happen to you?”
Plenty of “bad” had touched my life. That’s why I appreciated the good times. And it was why I understood Xander so well. “More than you think,” I shared.
“Tell me,” he prompted.
I shook my head. “Some other time. It’s not important. I just want you to be with your family.”
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Me too.”
Xander went silent, looking like he was deep in thought, but he was still holding tightly to my hand when we landed at the airport in New York.