Page 12

Chapter Twelve

Maggie

E venings at the Rockwell Estate are… weird. So quiet and empty. Sad, honestly. This massive sprawling house with towering arched ceilings and three-story windows and twenty-foot murals, and dozens upon dozens of rooms… and just Finn and Xavier to fill them. Well, and Barron, I guess, assuming he's home now, somewhere in the East Wing. And presumably Jacee, when she's here. If she's ever here. No one really ever mentions her in front of the boys. Last time anyone did was Denise that time at breakfast. And after seeing Xavier's reaction, I kind of get why her name is off limits around the boys.

Anyway, despite the hundred-and-one different rooms in the place, Xave and Finn pretty much hang out in five of them, as far as I can tell.

I tilt the miniature vending machine under the desk lamp, examining my handiwork. The rust effects turned out pretty sweet—super realistic. A tiny "Out of Order" sign hangs crooked in the display window, and I've added scattered debris and dead leaves around the base. This dystopian world is going to be amazing.

Through the archway, I can keep an eye on Finn, who's sprawled on his stomach, Lego pieces scattered around him like confetti on the fancy rug. His dark curls are still damp from his bath, pajamas covered in cartoon dinosaurs.

My muscles ache from our after-school sledding adventure, climbing up the hill a zillion times, but it was worth it seeing how his eyes lit up the faster we got our inner tube to spin every run. A week in and I'm learning that everything with Finn is go big or go home. Including the meltdowns. He tests every boundary I set, but I'm determined to stay strong. It's going to take time, but it'll be worth it—if only for how much easier it will be for him to make friends once he learns to be okay compromising occasionally and not losing it as soon as he doesn't get his own way.

Wednesday, when I told him no more cookies before dinner, he only freaked out on me for five minutes instead of his usual fifteen for something like that. Baby steps.

Xavier, on the other hand, is still being a complete and total ass.

These past few days have been exhausting—trying to keep up with Finn's endless energy while establishing some semblance of structure, trying not to totally lose it on Xavier, and keeping on top of homework. Having yesterday off to crash at home was exactly what I needed—just me, Mom, Silas, and a Netflix marathon. It was perfection.

I glance at my phone. Fifteen minutes till bedtime. I should probably start the wind-down routine soon.

"Xaaaave!" Finn's delighted squeal breaks through my thoughts.

I lean out to peer through the archway, just in time to see Xave wander in, set a half-empty smoothie on the coffee table, then scoop Finn up and toss him onto the plush blue couch. Finn's giggles echo off the vaulted ceiling as he bounces on the cushions.

I brace myself for whatever method Xave decides to antagonize me with this evening. I really thought once he saw how much I care about Finn, his frosty attitude toward me would ease up. But nope. If anything, he seems more determined than ever to be a grade-A jerk. He's like a snowstorm: inconvenient, disruptive, and somehow still makes everything look pretty. All I can say is thank God for hockey season keeping him out of the house two evenings a week.

He play-wrestles with Finn for a few minutes, and the contrast between Xave's deep voice and Finn's high pitch squeals makes me smile, despite not loving that Finn is going to be riled up and hyper right before bed. But after a few minutes, Xavier grabs the remote off the coffee table and slumps into the cushions. Then obviously changes his mind because he pulls the guitar from the other couch cushion onto his lap, tossing the remote in its place. He starts strumming a chilled-out tune, not seeming one bit bothered that Finn's climbing all over him like he's some kind of musical jungle gym. He even pauses a couple of times, tucking the guitar pick between his teeth to steady Finn when he attempts to stand on Xavier's bent knees, his lanky body tipping dangerously close to the corner of the coffee table. The third time, Xavier pulls him down beside him with a muscled forearm.

"Remember how to play E-minor chord?" he asks, leaning the guitar towards his brother so he can reach the frets.

Finn totally ignores the question. "Play Boo Thang!" he chimes instead, lifting onto his knees and pulling Xavier's arm.

"E-minor… It's super easy, remember? Two frets. Here…" Xavier takes Finn's hand, positioning his tiny fingers. "Yeah. And…. here. Cool." He laughs. "Press down… You got it. Just keep your fingers pressed down like that."

Finn sighs. "Can you play Boo Thang now?"

Xavier pushes down lightly on Finn's fingers again, then with his other hand, starts strumming the distinctive intro to Wonderwall. He only gets a couple of strums in, though. Finn is bouncing on his knees, bugging him to play Lil' Boo Thang, and the melody transitions seamlessly to fulfill his brother's request. It takes all my restraint to keep my smile from melting into laughter. And while I get that this side of Xavier is one that belongs only to Finn, I can't help thinking it would be nice to see a little of that humor, at least, without the jabs. Even a minimal amount of respect would be nice. Clearly, he's capable of it. With everyone but me.

The melody transitions again, this time into something more folk-y.

He tucks the pick between his teeth and adjusts one of the strings. "Where's your pink-haired warden?" he asks Finn, the pick wobbling between his teeth as he speaks.

See? With anything that has to do with me, he is Such. A. Dick.

That last comment pretty much sums up how he views me—as Finn's freaking warden. Even though I've never been anything but reasonable and patient and kind with Finn. Even when I'm enforcing rules, or dealing with one of his epic tantrums.

Before Finn can answer—or I can come up with a fittingly clever retort to let Xavier know I'm right bloody here, a few feet away and certainly close enough to hear his cutting insults—Xavier's cell rings on the coffee table.

Even from my side-view vantage point, it’s impossible not to notice the way his features harden at the sound of the "Fake Plastic Trees" ringtone. The playful, gentle guy from moments ago vanishes, replaced by someone guarded and tense. He leans over, exhaling a long breath as he retrieves his phone and slides his thumb across the screen.

He brings the phone up to his ear and answers with a curt "Hey." Completely different from the warm tone he was just using with Finn.

My hands freeze over the miniature vending machine, watching the transformation. It's like someone flipped a switch—his entire body language shifts. His shoulders tighten, jaw clenches. Even his voice changes, becoming flat and cold. The contrast is jarring.

"Fine."

"Yep."

"Not really."

I try to focus on weathering the individual soda buttons, but it's impossible not to notice how Finn's whole demeanor changes too. He stops bouncing, his little face scrunching up as he watches his brother. The energy in the room has completely shifted, and my heart aches seeing how in tune Finn is with Xavier's mood.

I want to scoop Finn up and distract him, but I stay put. Moving now would only draw attention to the awkwardness of the moment, as Xavier's terse one-word responses continue to echo in the cavernous room.

"Why?"

"Sure." His free hand absently strokes Finn's curls, like he's trying to maintain some connection to their previous lighthearted moment despite whomever's on the other end of that call.

"Un-huh."

"He's fine. "

"Yeah." He glances down at his brother. Sighs. "Yeah." The nerve in his jaw tics. "He's right here."

A pause, and then, "Sure."

He lowers the phone and presses the speaker button as he holds it in front of his brother. "It's mom."

Finn's whole face lights up. He practically vibrates with excitement, pressing close to the phone screen. "Mommy!"

"Hi baby," a sultry voice purrs through the speaker. The sound is nothing like I imagined—deep and smooth like honey, but with an artificial sweetness that sets my teeth on edge.

"Hi…" Finn pauses, seemingly uncertain now that the initial excitement has settled. It's not a reaction I've witnessed from Finn before. "Um, I went sliding today… Really fast. I went the fastest of anybody. And I didn't get scared on the jump thing. I was spinning super-fast."

It's like he's auditioning for someone's attention rather than just talking to his mom. It's honestly kind of heartbreaking. For once, I'm grateful for Xavier, who's still stroking his brother's curls, eyes trained on the bookshelf across the room with a tense expression that's totally at odds with his soothing gesture.

"That's really nice, honey." Another awkward pause. "Oh, Xavier, are you still there, baby?"

"Yep."

"You'll never believe who I ran into at this amazing rooftop bar in Milan." He doesn't respond, but she continues undeterred. "Mick Jagger! I had drinks with Mick Jagger! We ended up at his table, and I think we really hit it off."

"Cool."

"You know the band The Rolling Stones? Mick Jagger is—"

"I know who Mick Jagger is."

"Oh," Jacee's voice cools. "Well, you sure didn't seem that excited. It's a pretty big deal… I was drinking white wine with Mick Jagger, Xavier." Then suddenly she's all enthusiasm again. "Can you believe he drinks wine? I thought for sure a rock legend like that would be slinging back tequila and Vodka Martinis—but I swear all he had was two glasses of white wine. "

"I made white grape juice popsicles. Before yesterday," Finn pipes in. "Even though it's winter, I still made them, because you can still have popsicles in winter if you want. Maggie said so."

"That's nice, baby."

"Yeah."

I try to focus on my miniature, but it's hard not to be distracted by the conversation taking place just a few feet away. Jacee barely acknowledges anything Finn says, launching instead into stories about herself. And Xavier continues to utter only occasional mono-syllabic responses.

Finn's enthusiasm dims with each passing minute, his shoulders gradually slumping. "When… when are you coming home?" he finally interrupts one of his mother's stories about some big deal Italian business mogul who thought she was in her twenties. "Are you gonna be back for the special lunch in my class we're making for all the moms. It's in six more sleeps."

"I won't be back for another couple of weeks, baby. But I know your new nanny will have so much fun going to your lunch. Or you could ask Denise? I think she would love that, don't you?"

Xavier's hand pauses stroking his brother's hair, his fingers curling into a fist.

"But it's just for—it's a lunch for moms, " Finn practically whispers.

Xavier's fingers un-curl. He flexes his hand, the movement slow and deliberate. Then he resumes stroking Finn's curls.

Jacee chuckles. Shrill and syrupy. "Then we'll just have to go out for our own special lunch together when I get home, won't we? You can order the meringue nest at the Welsford that you like."

"Okay." Finn's voice is so small.

"No sulking, baby. Remember all the mountains of toys you got for Christmas? You were a lucky, lucky boy, weren't you? Are you still happy with all the toys Santa brought you for Christmas?"

"Uh-huh." His bottom lip starts to quiver, tears welling in those big brown eyes.

Before the first one can fall, Xavier cuts his mother off. "Look, we have to go. It's late… Finn needs to get to bed."

God, and I thought I'd be so happy to hear Xavier utter those words. Instead, they just make me sad.

"Xavier. I think it's okay for Finn to stay up a few minutes past his bedtime to talk to his mother, don't you?"

"We have to go. Say hey to Mick from us."

"Well, now it sounds like you're giving me attitude, Xavier. I don't appreciate you using that tone with—"

"See ya." He ends the call. Doesn't move. Doesn't say anything.

Finn sniffs, and I want to go over and hug him. Honestly, I want to hug them both.

Suddenly Xavier's on his feet, hand clawing through his messy locks.

" FUCK! " He launches the TV remote across the room. Past the massive wall-sized TV screen and partway down the wide hall. It smashes into an ornate gold-framed painting, glass shattering and bursting in crystal fragments with a piercing CRASH!

But the silence that follows is even more deafening.