by J. S. Scott
“Nope. It would probably be me.” I was pretty certain my dry spell had been longer than Liam’s. I sure as hell wasn’t counting that momentary fiasco in my kitchen. I’d technically fucked Sam, I guess, but since there had been zero pleasure in the encounter, I wasn’t even considering it sex.
“So you still haven’t given in and boned your housekeeper?”
“She’s more than just my housekeeper,” I confided. “I actually . . . like her.”
“An even better reason to fuck her,” Liam commented.
“It’s not like that anymore, Liam. She’s . . . helping me. I get outside now, and I’m here in New York because she’s given me enough support to believe I can do things I didn’t think I could do. We’re stopping at my parents’ graves on the way back to Amesport. She thinks I need that closure.”
I’d made that decision while I’d been working out. I needed to man up and start facing down my fears. I owed it to my brothers, who were living, and my mom and dad, who were not.
He shot me a surprised glance. “She’s a smart woman. You do probably need closure, Xander. Your drinking and drugs were a result of underlying anger. You have to put it to rest.”
I didn’t want to betray Sam’s confidence, so I simply told him, “Sam and I . . . we have a lot in common. We’ve shared similar experiences. She lost her entire family at one time, a decade ago. I guess that’s why she kind of understands me.”
“Man. That’s rough,” Liam said, shaking his head as he ran. “How do you feel about seeing your parents’ resting place for the first time?”
“I agree with Samantha. I know I should. I have to.” There was shit that Liam didn’t know about, but he seemed to understand why I started abusing drugs and alcohol. And he knew my parents’ murder had been traumatic.
“Do you want me to go with you?” he offered.
I looked at him, realizing at that moment that I should be fucking grateful to call Liam a friend. Only a true friend would sincerely offer to go with me to a cemetery.
“No, man. You have your sister and your business to handle. I have Samantha. I’m good.”
“You really do care about her,” he accused.
I nodded, not wanting to get too personal in the middle of a gym. “Yeah. I guess I do. I think it would be almost impossible not to care. She’s a pretty amazing woman.”
“Like I said before, don’t let your fear hold you back, Xander.”
“I’m not. For the first time in a long time, I think I know where I’m going and why.”
Liam nodded as he kept running. “Thank God. If you don’t have purpose, it’s damn hard to stay on the wagon.”
I knew that he’d had Tessa and several other reasons to get off the party train. I’d done nothing except separate myself from everyone, making myself a prime example of a man who could very easily go back to abusing drugs and alcohol.
I rose, suddenly wanting to get back to Sam. I wanted to make sure she was okay this morning after her nightmares last night. “Sorry I interrupted your workout. See ya at the hospital?”
“I’m still working out, and yeah, I’ll see ya there.”
I lifted a hand and steadily made my way to the door, suddenly realizing that the gym had started to fill up with exercisers.
Nobody looked at me strangely.
Nobody was screaming about my sliced-up face.
Nobody gave a damn if I was scarred. Most everyone here was only paying attention to their workout and themselves.
I shook my head as I dumped my dirty towel and walked out the door, grinning because Samantha was right again. I wasn’t seeing reality. I had been trapped inside my own mind for too damn long.
It was long past time for me to claw my way out and figure out what other falsehoods I harbored.
CHAPTER 14
SAMANTHA
We ended up staying in New York for a couple of extra days to ensure that Tessa was well and ready to travel home with Micah the following day. To my surprise, Xander had even wanted to go out to see some of the things he’d never had the time to visit on his previous stays in New York.
We’d strolled through Central Park, gone to the top of the Empire State Building, and visited the 9/11 Memorial. Then, last night he’d taken me out for dinner in a trendy New York restaurant.
I couldn’t say he’d seemed completely at ease, but he seemed to be getting more comfortable every time he was out in public. Occasionally, I’d still see that startled, deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face every time we heard a loud noise, but he fought his way out by quickly reminding himself where he was and what he was doing. He resisted the flashbacks, and he seemed to be making progress at avoiding them. Constant exposure to the things that made him nervous was slowly desensitizing him.
He’d been quiet on the flight back home to Maine, with this pit stop in Massachusetts looming in his brain.
I got nervous as Xander drove through the cemetery gates on the outskirts of his hometown. Facing reality could be difficult this time, and he’d been doing so well. I just hoped my suggestion hadn’t been a mistake.
He’d driven past the home he’d grown up in on our way to the cemetery. It was far from modest, but it wasn’t a castle, either. It looked like a big, stately home, but it wasn’t pretentious. It seemed like a place where the Sinclair brothers had been able to grow up happy.
“Are you okay?” I asked hesitantly, breaking the silence that had fallen between us since we’d passed by his old house.
“Yeah. I’m good. I remember coming here with Mom and Dad on every holiday to leave flowers on my grandparents’ graves. They both died when I was a kid. I don’t really remember either of them well.”
We’d stopped for flowers to leave for his parents and his grandparents. “So you know where they’re buried?”
“I remember. Julian said Mom and Dad are buried right beside them.”
A shiver ran up my spine as Xander slowed to a stop. “It’s here,” he said grimly.
We gathered up the flowers, then approached his grandparents’ graves, which were the first ones on the path. Silently, I laid a bouquet of roses in front of their headstones while Xander just stood next to their graves with his hands crossed in front of him.
I followed as he finally continued down the narrow sidewalk, stopping abruptly at the next pair of marble markers.
I stopped beside him, marveling over the beautiful markers that represented the graves of Xander’s parents. Two enormous, side-by-side headstones marked their resting places.
“This is real,” Xander said stoically. “It happened, Sam. They’re really gone.”
The pain in his voice vibrated with a loss so profound that it made my chest ache. He looked lost for a moment, then suddenly his body started to shudder.
I knew all about wanting to stay in denial. It had taken me years to go visit the graves of my own family, knowing that when I actually saw them, I’d have to admit to myself that they were gone from this Earth forever.
He stiffly went through the motions of putting the flowers near the enormous and beautifully engraved stones, then stepped back as he stared at their names and the date of their death.
I knew what he was going through, the realization of the finality of his parents’ deaths.
“It never should have happened,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Neither of you should be gone.”
He dropped onto his knees and dug his fingers into the soil they were buried in, as any sense of composure he had completely snapped. His voice was deep and remorseful as he rasped, “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry. I never knew that visiting you would kill you. I never knew there was an asshole out to murder me. And I’m so sorry I couldn’t find a way to save you. I loved you both so much, and I’m not sure you even knew that.”
I hurried forward and dropped down to my knees beside him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “It’s okay, Xander. They knew you loved them.”
“They’re really gone, Sam. I’ll ne
ver see them again,” he said as he buried his face in my hair.
His breath hit my neck in short, frenzied pants, and all I wanted to do was take away his pain.
I stroked a hand over his hair, trying to comfort him. “I know.”
Reality was crashing down on Xander, and I felt helpless to tell him what he wanted to hear. There was nothing that would take away the agony he was going through now that he’d come to terms with his parents’ deaths.
Drugs and alcohol had allowed him to be in denial.
Sobriety had forced him to face up to a terrible truth.
It was one of the primary reasons Xander had never wanted to be aware of his surroundings, or the reality of his loss.
Now, several years later, he was finally going through the mourning process all alone. His brothers had accepted their loss years ago. The only part of the tragedy they hadn’t accepted was losing their little brother. Micah and Julian had hung on to Xander with everything they had, refusing to see him lost along with their parents.
Xander squeezed me until I could hardly breathe, but I didn’t complain.
I knew what it felt like to experience this kind of loss.
I knew what it felt like to feel like I’d never get over it.
And I knew what it was like to feel all alone in my grief.
His body shook, and I knew from his harsh breathing that he was trying to get his emotions under control. I stroked his hair, then held him tightly, wishing I could will some of my empathy into his body. “It gets better, Xander. I promise,” I whispered beside his ear. “Every day will get easier.”
He slowly got up and grabbed my hand to pull me to my feet, swiping at the tears on his face with his other hand. “It’s been four damn years,” he rumbled.
“But you’ve never accepted it or faced the truth. You know you haven’t. It’s all fresh for you.”
He wrapped an arm around my waist. “Too damn fresh. How did you do it, Sam? How did you ever get through losing your entire family without going crazy?”
“It took a long time,” I confessed, walking with him as he started to slowly make his way back to the car. “I went through therapy for a while, and I had good friends. But I sort of felt like I was drifting, like I’d lost my identity because I no longer had any family. It took me a while to recognize that my life would go on, and that I had to direct myself toward positive things that my family would have wanted to honor them.”
“Like what?” Xander asked curiously.
“I volunteer a lot. My sister wanted to be a veterinarian, and she loved animals, so I put a lot of effort into raising money for my local shelters. My mom and dad gave their time to the homeless shelters, so I did that, too. So most of the time I spent volunteering, I felt like I was remembering them.”
“Makes sense,” Xander agreed.
“Nothing is the same for every person, but it helped me,” I shared.
“Have I ever told you what a fucking amazing person you are?”
I turned my head to look at him. “No. I’m nothing special, Xander.”
He squeezed my waist. “Bullshit. You’ve handled more tragedy in your life than anybody I’ve ever known. But you’re still optimistic about the world and the people in it.”
“I think I’m that way because of what happened to me. I don’t want to take a single moment for granted.”
“I still find it slightly annoying,” he teased. “But I admire that trait about you, too.”
I laughed. “I’m sorry I irritate you.”
He shot me a doubtful look. “I don’t think you’re sorry at all.”
“Okay. Maybe not. I kind of like to think there are still good things in my life.”
“I have my brothers,” Xander considered.
“Yes, you do. And they both love you,” I answered adamantly.
“I have to tell them, don’t I?”
He didn’t have to explain what he was talking about. I already knew. “I think you should. Not because it matters, but so that you can see that it doesn’t. Micah and Julian are never going to blame you or see your parents’ death as anything other than the tragic event that it was.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I’ll invite them over.”
His response was noncommittal, but it was definitely another step toward healing for Xander.
My celebration of the day’s events was private, but heartfelt. There was nothing I wanted more than for Xander to finally get through the loss of his parents. He’d been miserable and alone for long enough.
As we traveled back to the airport to continue on to Amesport, I was pretty certain that Xander hadn’t even consciously thought about his decision to take my hand and hold on to it for the entire drive back to his private jet.
CHAPTER 15
SAMANTHA
Xander changed after the visit to his parents’ graves. He was more willing to talk, listen, and just take each day as it came. He still spent each morning in his office, but he came out to go to the beach with me every afternoon.
He reminisced about some happier memories of his childhood, and shared stories about his days on the road with his band.
“Have you actually ever been in the recording studio that I assume Micah had built for you?” I cleaned the area occasionally, but the equipment looked unused.
We were just settling down to read after dinner, and Xander didn’t look up from his e-reader as he answered, “No.”
“Why? The equipment looks amazing.”
“It is. Top of the line. All of it. But I told you, my music is gone.”
We’d talked about his talent many times, and I knew there was no physical impediment with his ability to play, write, or sing. It was a block that was mental and not physical. “It will come back someday.”
I was fairly certain that his reluctance was probably because he thought his profession was associated with his parents’ deaths. When he was ready to disassociate his music from his parents’ murders, he’d play again.
“Are we reading?” he asked in an impatient voice.
“Okay. I’ll stop talking,” I teased.
He tossed his e-reader aside. “It’s not that. Honestly, I don’t think I can go another night without touching you, Sam. It’s eating me alive.”
I knew what he was saying. The chemistry between us was always there, always lurking in the shadows. I tossed my own reading device on the coffee table. “I think you already know that I feel the same way.”
Xander moved across the couch so fast that I never saw him coming. Before I knew exactly what was happening, I was pinned beneath him on the couch. “Actually, I don’t know how you feel, Sam. Sometimes I can’t see beneath your brave exterior enough to know exactly what you’re thinking. I feel like I’ve done nothing but pour my guts out to you, but I still haven’t figured you out. I don’t understand why you’re here, or why you’d want to be with me.”
My eyes found and locked with his, and I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wanted Xander Sinclair in the most elemental of ways, but yet things were so complicated. “I’m really not that complex,” I said breathlessly.
“You’re a fucking mystery that I can’t solve,” he answered. “Yeah, I do think you want me, but I have no idea why. But I can feel it, Sam. Your heart is racing just like mine, and I know that the fucking desperation I feel isn’t only coming from me.”
He was right. “It’s not,” I admitted. “I feel it, Xander, but I think I’m afraid.”
Threading a hand through my hair, he asked in a husky voice, “Why, Sam? Tell me.”
My body absorbed his heat, and I squirmed beneath him, every part of me wanting to be so much closer to this man than I was right now. “I’m not used to feeling like this. I’ve never been a particularly sexual woman. Now I feel like I’m out of control.”
“Bullshit. You’re one of the hottest, most responsive women I’ve ever known.”
“Only with you.”
His expression turned fierce. “Good.
I fucking like it that way.”
His mouth came down on mine with a force so strong it took my breath away, yet it was persuasive, needy, and coaxing me to give in to the emotions I’d been trying desperately to hold back almost from the moment I’d met Xander.
This was nothing like the first time. His embrace was filled with a carnal heat that demanded my surrender, and I gave it as I moaned against his mouth and wrapped my arms around his neck.
I think the first time had been as much about me not giving as it was about Xander not able to share anything except the mechanical motions of sex.
Everything had changed, and I knew I was playing with fire.
But I was tired of fighting the insane attraction between us. I couldn’t. Fighting off this kind of emotion would take more strength than I had.
So I let go.
I yielded.
And I allowed Xander to take me wherever he was going.
We both wanted the same thing, and it would end with a satisfaction my body was craving.
I squirmed beneath him, then wrapped my legs around his waist, trying to get closer to him. If it were possible, I’d have climbed inside him.
He released possession of my mouth and buried his face at the side of my neck, his wicked tongue tracing the sensitive skin there.
“Xander,” I moaned urgently. I needed him to finally put me out of my misery and fuck me like it was our final moments on Earth.
“I know, baby. Wait,” he murmured in a husky voice that was muffled against my neck.
“I can’t wait anymore,” I whimpered.
I’d tried to be patient. I’d tried not to think about how much I wanted to be connected and intimate with him. I’d tried to ignore his expressive eyes and toned, strong body.
I was done waiting and trying not to want him like I’d never wanted another guy before.
“Please,” I begged as he rolled off me and to the floor at the side of the couch.
He stood, picked me up, and set me on my feet. Suddenly, we were facing each other, standing so close that I could reach out and touch him, but I didn’t. I pushed my hair back and watched him hungrily as he lifted his T-shirt and tossed it on the floor.
