Page 17

Chapter Seventeen

Xavier

T he neon lights from the arcade machines in the Games Room cast weird shadows across Dylan's face as he leans into the foosball table, where I'm watching Seb demolish him. Even with his obvious inexperience, Dylan's movements are controlled and precise—like everything else about him.

"You're getting destroyed, man." I chuckle, wandering over from the glass fridge, taking a pull from my water bottle.

Dylan flicks his tongue along his lip ring. "First time playing."

Maybe I should feel bad for un-wittingly calling attention to something that links back to the fact that Dylan's had such a fucked up life, but I get the feeling the guy would rather be treated like a normal person than like he's fully combustible, the way most people seem to. So, until he shows me otherwise, I'm gonna keep dishing out a slightly tamer version of the razzing I give my other guy friends.

"Seriously?" Seb's amused grin flashes as he spins his foosball players with way too much enthusiasm. "Dude, we need to get you out more."

Seb's abiding by the same philosophy, but in his case it's just that it would never occur to him to treat anyone differently. He's always been that way—what you see is what you get. Same guy whether you're the top tier of the cool crowd or the bottom ranks of the geek squad. Or a kidnap victim with a boat load of triggers, apparently.

It's cool Dylan decided to hang with Seb and I before we meet the girls later at the Foundry. It's pretty rare he goes out to any kind of social gathering, and when he does, it's usually with Scarlett. But Scarr's stuck at some fancy family dinner thing. She and Caroline are going to meet us a little later. I'm guessing Caroline is doing homework. Like usual.

I vault over the back of the purple velour couch beside the foosball table and sprawl out, pulling a guitar onto my lap from one of the other cushions.

I strum a few chords along to Royel Otis' Sofa King playing on the sound system. "Apparently the band tonight is really good," I tell the guys. "The lead guitarist is supposed to be insane."

"Cool." Seb spins a row of his players, then throws his head back. "Shit… I gave you that one."

Dylan moves his counter ahead by one.

Seb couldn't care less about who the band is we're going to see or how good their guitarist is. He's going for me, since he knows live music is my jam—and because Seb's up for anything. You could take him to a five-hour chess tournament and Seb would find a way to have a blast. Probably to cause total mayhem, too.

"Annnnd… game!" he calls, already turning from the foosball table, ready for whatever's next. My best buddy is ADHD on the extreme end of the scale. Add to that the issues he's been dealing with lately, with the memory glitches since a recent stint in hospital, and it's a miracle if he manages to focus on anything for more than five minutes.

Two seconds later, he's punching the buttons of the vintage Frogger game, firing it up. Dylan shoves his hands in his pockets and skirts around the edge of the couch, falling into one of the chairs on the other side of the low coffee table.

There's a subtle tension in Dylan's shoulders—the same tension he always carries. Not surprising, considering everything. The guy spent thirteen years being raised by the serial killer who murdered his mom, only to be reunited with his birth father a few months ago. So, yeah, suffice it to say he hasn't had an easy life.

He's mellowed out some, since he recently started dating Scarlett. Meaning he's only tense maybe eighty percent of the time. Still can't believe they're dating. But then, maybe it makes sense—they're both complicated as hell .

"Hey! Seb's here!" Finn wanders in, making a beeline for Seb, who turns at the sound of my brother's voice.

In just a couple of strides Seb has scooped him up and is running around the room with him. "Finny, my man!”

Finn stretches his arms out and makes airplane noises while Seb does a couple more laps. It's been their thing for a while now, and neither of them seem to tire of it.

Eventually, Seb slows and then tosses him onto the couch next to me and takes a seat near Dylan. He points at Finn. "You met this little squirt yet?"

"Nope." Dylan glances at Finn, then at me. "Your brother?"

"Yep." I squeeze Finn's waist, where he's most ticklish, and he squeals, his giggle so high-pitched it could probably take out a small dog's hearing. "He's older," I tell Dylan over Finn's giggles. "I'm just a lot taller."

Dylan nods. "I figured," he says, proving that despite rarely cracking so much as a grin, he's got a sense of humor in there somewhere.

"Say hey to my friend Dylan, Finn." I tell the little monster, scooting him closer by his ankles. His upper body slides towards the floor.

"Hi, Dylan!" Finn giggles, fully upside down now.

"Hey, Finn." Dylan actually does crack a slight grin this time.

"How come you have an earring in your lip?" Finn asks, still upside down, his curls brushing against the carpet.

"How come you have your pants on back-to-front?" I volley, hoping to keep Dylan from having to answer Finn's question, because I know Dylan hates talking about himself. At all.

"I don't have my pants on back-to-front."

He one hundred percent does.

"Ask Seb and Dylan."

"Sorry, dude," Seb pulls out his phone. "Your bro's right." His thumbs tap across the screen as he answers a text.

"Yeah, they're backwards," Dylan confirms. "But not inside-out, so…"

"Oof!" Rita appears in the arched entrance to the Games Room, slightly out of breath. "There you are… I didn't know where you went." She heads over to the seating area. "You can't just run off like that," she scolds Finn.

"Yes, I can." He beams, cheeky as hell. "And you can't stop me."

"Hey." I hike his pants up, where they slid down during his couch acrobatics, then pull him up to a seating position. "Be nice."

Finn's mouth drops open. Not often the kid is speechless, but he is now. I glance over at Rita, and her expression mirrors my brother's.

Okay, so guess I rarely tell my brother to be nice to the nannies.

Fine. I have never told him to be nice to the nannies. But shit, Maggie's words from the other night in the Observatory burrowed into a corner of my brain and apparently settled in for the long haul.

Finn's eyes narrow. "She can't tell me what to do!" He hefts up onto his knees, fists clenched at his sides.

"Relax, pal…" I squeeze his shoulder. "Just—you can't talk like that to people, okay?"

"Yes, I can!" He pushes his whole body right up into my space, then when that doesn't get the reaction he’s hoping for, he shoves into my chest with both hands. "Yes! I! Can!"

"You can't, Finny." I search for the right words to explain. "Just because you don't agree with something someone says, doesn't mean—"

"I can say whatever I want!" He pushes even harder. "You said, Xave! You said, with the nannies—"

"Finn. Enough." I run a hand through my hair. "It's late… You need to get to bed." I glance over at Rita but quickly realize she's not going to be any help.

She's gone from looking shocked to outright concerned. Like she's worried I'm up to something.

I turn back to Finn. "Look, I'm heading out now. Me, Seb, and Dylan. So come do our handshake." I get to my feet. Dylan and Seb take my cue and get up too.

"I'm not doing our handshake, 'cos you're being mean!" Finn yells, standing up on the couch to bridge the height gap between us and failing .

"C'mon… don't be like that." I put my hand out, in the first position of the long handshake he made up for us last year. But he steps back into the cushions, balancing himself against the back of the couch.

"I'm not doing our handshake, and I'm not saying goodbye."

"Finny…" I glance pointedly at my hand.

He crosses his arms against his chest.

"Can I get a hug, then?"

"No! I hate you!"

I swallow. Kid is killing me. Ripping my heart right the fuck out of my chest and squeezing it in his tiny little hands. And screw Maggie and her judgment and her shitty opinions. Finn has never told me he hates me before. Ever.

Not until Maggie came along and stuck her head in our business.

I stare at him for a couple of seconds, not sure what to do, but hoping to God he changes his mind.

Seb walks over, scoops Finn up and sets him on the ground in front of me. "Give your bro a hug, Finny."

Finn shakes his head. "You can't make me. No one can make me do anything! "

"Let's go upstairs and choose a story, Finn." Rita reaches out her hand.

And Finn fucking takes it. Takes the nanny's hand and walks off towards the hallway and leaves me hanging.

Because he knows—it's the best way to twist the knife even harder. I hurt him by picking the nanny over him. Now he's retaliating by doing the same.

And I deserve it.

Seb claps my shoulder. "Let's go, bro." He leans his body into mine to nudge me forward. "You were right telling him off, and he's just pissed. But he'll be over it in ten minutes. Kid will be jumping on your bed at the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow and all geared up to do your handshake ten times in a row."

I nod and follow the guys to the entrance, and trust that—scrambled brain or not—Seb knows what he’s talking about. I don’t know what I’ll do if Finn is still mad at me in the morning.

Okay, I do know .

I’ll be having a few choice words with his nanny. Not Rita. The other one— the hot one. Maggie fucking LeClair.