Page 31

Vivienne

For the third night in a row, I'm giddy over the prospect of Xavier calling again, like he has since texting me to ask if he could. Only, this time, I'm not home alone, in bed, like I've been for the others.

I'm at his house for a slumber party with Tenley. She's asleep on the couch after watching movies and I'm sneaking away to let her sleep. The back of my neck prickles with awareness as I pass through the hallway where Xavier found me the night we made our agreement.

Kismet strikes, and he picks that moment to call me on FaceTime. I have a split second of doubt when I question my decision to stay here tonight without asking, but I hated the idea of Tenley being alone every night.

"Hello," I say tentatively.

A knowing smile splits his face as he takes in where I am. "Hello to you too."

"So . . ." I let the implication hang between us, which only makes his grin spread.

"Yeah, so . . . You're in my house." He's in the same hotel room as last night, lounging in the armchair, the shades to the wall of windows behind home open with the city light glittering behind him. He looks like a god--relaxed, confident, and impossibly handsome. It makes me wish I was somewhere more private instead of where my niece could stumble across us on her way to bed.

"In our hallway to be specific. Is that okay?"

"You tell me. Is everything good there?" He leans forward, running a hand through his tousled red hair.

My stomach swoops for an entirely different reason than the butterflies from moments ago. "Oh, god! Yes. Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you."

"Relax. I trust Tenley--and you," he adds softly. "You'd let me know if something was wrong."

"I would," I confirm. Something I didn't plan for when I started messing around with Xavier was falling for his daughter, but the sweet baby girl easily won me over.

"Now that we've established that, go to my bedroom."

"Go to . . ." My brows draw together. "No, that's your space."

"Exactly." He leans back in the chair, propping the phone up on the window ledge, giving me one of the best views I think I've ever seen.

"But . . . why?"

"Seeing you in my bed, preferably in one of my shirts, or naked--ladies' choice--makes the week without you more bearable."

His declaration has me tongue-tied as I push off the wall and follow his instructions. I barely breathe as I make my way through his house, afraid that any noise might wake Holland and put an end to this before it starts.

Although I know where his room is, I've never been inside. My hand stills on the knob and my gaze darts to the phone, checking to make sure he still wants this.

Oh, he wants this all right. His black joggers are already tented, his erection stretching toward his stomach.

I step inside and lock the door behind me, heading straight for his closet. "That was some game tonight," I comment offhandedly, crossing the room to his open closet door. When I get inside, I prop the phone on a shelf, making my way down the row of clothes, dancing my fingers over them.

Toward the back of the closet, there's a selection of jerseys. Thumbing through them I realize they go as far back as high school, I look at the phone, my eyebrow raised as I pull out an alternate Bandits jersey that I recognize from their community service day a few years back.

"No. When you wear my jersey, I want to be there to strip it off you in person."

"That sounds awfully serious."

"That's because I feel very strongly about the ways I want to fuck you with my number on your back."

"Shit, that's hot." I tuck the jersey back in, moving to a shelf with a stack of soft and well-worn T-shirts. If I can't have his hands on me, this is the next best option.

With the shirt in hand, I set the phone on the shelf. As I reach for the hem of my oversized crew neck, pulling it over my head, the phone tips, falling face first. A barrage of curse words stream from the phone, making me laugh. It might be a little cruel, but I slip his shirt on before finally picking it up.

"No. No. No," he whines. "I want a do-over."

It only makes me laugh harder. No one's ever been so disappointed by a phone falling before and it's kind of adorable. "I would, but I feel very strongly about all the ways I want you to touch me the first time you see me naked."

"Tease."

"You like it."

"I do. But since you robbed me of seeing your perfect body, go get in my bed."

I want to push his buttons and see where it gets me, but I want to be in his bed surrounded by the smell of him even more. So, I slide my leggings off, enjoying the way the cool sheets feel against my skin as I climb into his bed.

He waits until I'm snuggled against his pillows to ask, "What did my three favorite girls do tonight?"

Those damn butterflies take off, flying circles around my stomach. Reminding myself what this is, and how we got our start, no longer tames them. They just keep swooping.

"Mostly stuffed ourselves with takeout and watched Tenley's favorite movies."

"Excellent. So I should expect my Netflix algorithm to be screwed." His laugh is deep and easy.

I bury my face in the pillow, hiding my smile, because Tenley refused to watch them using her profile and now I know why. "There's a possibility it might be a little skewed."

He hums. It's one of my favorite sounds he makes. "Is the mischievous streak from you, or was she born with it?"

I pull my face from the pillow, not wanting to hide when I tell him the truth. "I wish I could take credit, but her mother was a menace. Erica was the ultimate prankster." Like it always does, the memory of my late sister-in-law leaves a bittersweet ache settling in my chest.

"What happened to her?" he asks.

"Complications with Cade's delivery, Tenley's younger brother. She had a condition called placenta percreta that caused her to hemorrhage after delivery. She was gone less than an hour after she gave birth."

"That's terrible. I'm so sorry your family had to go through that."

"It was a shock. Everyone who knew Erica loved her. Even as a kid, I knew she was special. She was the love of my brother's life and after . . . everything changed. Leo kind of disappeared, working endless hours, letting his grief take over. I let mine take over too." Even if I didn't realize it. Erica was like a big sister to me; I followed her everywhere. When she was gone, she took a piece of me with her.

His lips press into a line, and he rolls them together. "She sounds incredible. Processing a loss like that is devastating but especially when it's so sudden." There's a sadness in his voice that we share. Both of us lost someone we loved before we were ready.

"I'm not sure process is the right word for what I did." My head tips back. That year was so heavy, so painful. "I saw my brother hurting, I was hurting, and there was this sweet little girl who didn't understand any of what was happening. I didn't know how to fix it, so I threw myself into the one thing I could do: distract Tenley." My throat burns with tears fighting to escape.

"Did anyone realize what you were doing? Your parents or brother?" he asks.

"If they did, they never said anything. My brother was . . . not himself. And I think my parents thought it was my way of coping. Then my other brothers started having babies. Not to mention, my younger brothers, the twins, were four and a handful. Somehow, I became a backup guardian for all of them."

Xavier's forehead crinkles, his voice laced with soft understanding as he murmurs, "That doesn't seem fair to you."

"Nothing about it was fair. Cade never got to know his mother, my brother lost the love of his life, and Tenley . . . " My voice cracks on her name. "But yeah, I wish I'd found the courage once time passed to tell them how trapped I felt. Instead, I just ran away the first chance I got."

"You and Tenley obviously stayed close." There's a question buried in there that he doesn't fully voice.

I can't stop the smile that always comes at the mention of my niece. "Yeah. That bond is life long, I'm afraid."

"What about the rest of your family?" His brow knits.

I shrug, unsure how to put what I've always struggled with into words. "Do you think it's possible to be bitter about the circumstances and still really love them?"

"Yeah, I do." Xavier scratches his jaw and I can almost feel the heavy weight of his thoughts, even with the distance between us.

"My mom was incredible. She had terrible taste in men, but she was remarkable . . . this bright light in the world. Before she died, everything was good. After . . ." He blows out a breath. "Not so much. And I'm still mad at her for leaving me with him, but that doesn't mean I love her any less. Parents--family--aren't perfect, but sometimes we love them through that."

"Even your dad?"

He laughs, dark and bitter, a sound that shouldn't come out of the man I know. "Fuck no."

"Do you still talk to him?" I ask, although I'm pretty sure I know the answer.

"He's dead," Xavier says flatly, the weight of what that means undercut by his detached tone.

Aside from Holland, he doesn't have any family. Holland doesn't have any other family with her mother out of the picture, it's her and Xavier.

"Xavier . . ." I breathe, not sure what to say.

He shakes his head. "I hadn't talked to him since the day I graduated high school and I'm positive he was thrilled to be rid of me."

"I can't believe . . ."

"He hated me, Vi." He rolls his lips together. "He drank himself to death. After we lost her, he was never the same. He died right alongside her, even if his body was still here. In the end, I think he got exactly what he wanted."

"How did you--you're so . . ."

"Well adjusted?" he offers.

"I was going to say good . You're a good man, Xavier. One of the best I know."

"My coaches and teammates growing up helped. They knew my dad was a piece of shit." He nods towards the phone. "That shirt you're wearing is from the club team I played for in high school. I played on a scholarship that I applied for myself because I knew I needed to get away from him, and baseball was my best shot. The owner gave me a job cleaning after practice, and later, when I got older, he let me coach the younger teams. It helped pay for new equipment and my travel. My teammates' parents were always buying me lunch at tournaments and inviting me home for dinner. I guess what I'm trying to say is I had a village that took care of me."

"I'm grateful you had them." The truth of it nearly chokes me, before I manage to add, "You really should spend more time at Double Play. They could use a role model like you."

"It's not that noble, sweetheart. I was trying to survive."

"And so are some of those kids. Seeing you--hearing about your story might give them hope. You can be the difference they need."

He studies me for a moment, then nods. "Yeah, maybe I will." Shifting the conversation back to me, he shuts the door on the conversation about his childhood. "Have you ever told your parents how you felt about the way you grew up?"

"Not even once." I laugh hollowly, my hair falling forward when I shake it free from its ponytail.

"That surprises me."

"Why? Because I've never been shy about putting you in your place?"

He smiles that crooked, knowing smile at me and I know whatever he says next will undoubtedly make me like him more. A big problem, considering he's only supposed to make my vagina happy, not my heart. "Because you're a warrior with a soft soul. You fight everyone's battles for them. I thought your own would be at the top of your list."

"That's the funny thing about having a soft soul. It can't handle the blow of disappointing the people I love the most."

"How would you disappoint them?"

"You don't think telling my brother and parents that I'm bitter over how the death of their wife and daughter-in-law affected my life sounds horrendously selfish? Because when I say it out loud, I sound incredibly selfish. I left and never looked back. To them, I'm sure it feels like I've snubbed the vineyard--my family. But I just need to break away and figure out who I was without all the obligation at home. There was no freedom to figure that out in California."

"I think they'd rather know than continue to live a lie they're unaware of."

"It's unfair that you're so hot and this insightful," I tease, because it's truly one of my favorite things about him and because I don't want to talk about the past anymore.

He tilts his head slightly, lightness replacing the serious tone. "Tell me more about how hot you think I am."

"Are you fishing for compliments?" I shift in his bed making the sheets fall lower, pulling the conversation back to a more comfortable territory--sex.

"No, I'm fishing for your orgasms, so slip that hand under the covers and play with that pretty little cunt while you tell me how much you like me."

"I said I like the way you look."

"You said more than that and we both know it. Now stop telling lies or I'll edge you," he says.

"Promises, promises."

He licks his lips, blue eyes smoldering over every inch of skin they devour as I kick the sheets down, freeing my bare legs. "Adding that to our list for another night."