It’s written all over his face how nervous he is. It’s in the shaky way he talks and the troubled look in his eyes. My gut twists, and I hate that he’s dealing with all of this. That he’s her only family here. Moving on instinct alone, and with the comfort I’d want if this were me, I cover his hand with mine, squeezing. “Hey, you did the right thing,” I tell him in what I hope is a reassuring tone. “I wouldn’t understand a thing either, but it sounds like you acted fast and did everything right. She’s going to be fine.”
Xander doesn’t remove his hand from my hold, but he also doesn’t say anything for a moment. I chance a glance at him, finding him already looking back at me, a quizzical expression on his face that I can’t quite place.
“Thank you,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper, like if he talks any louder, he’ll break down. “For bringing me lunch when you really didn’t have to, and for trying to make me feel better. I really appreciate it.”
Giving his hand one last squeeze, I let go, even though I’d rather hold on to it all day. “Anytime, Xander.”
Once he finishes, he tosses the bag in the trash. “That was so good.”
“Have you been to that diner yet? The one right in town.”
“No, but I’ve wanted to.”
“I’m going there again later on this week if you want to come? Me and my friends meet there for lunch every week.”
“Uh…yeah, maybe. It depends on how my aunt is doing.”
“Of course.” A stifling tension wafts around us as we watch each other, the need to say something growing by the second. “Listen, about last week?—”
Xander shakes his head, breathing out a laugh. “Don’t. It’s fine, really. I’m sorry I’ve been so distant since. I’ve just been busy, and kind of in my own head. I’m not mad or anything.”
My brow arches. “You sure?”
“Positive. That moment at the bonfire was…intense. I felt it too; it wasn’t just you. We’re cool, I promise.”
Nodding, I stuff my hands into my pockets. “Okay, thanks for that. So, you heading back to the hospital?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Want company? I don’t have anything else going on today.”
Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have offered that. But the idea of going home, and not getting to hang out with him some more, sounds about as unappealing as getting bucked off a bronc right about now.
Xander’s thick dark brows lift. “What? You don’t have to do that.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” I laugh. “I’m well aware I don’t have to. I want to. Your aunt is the only family you have here, and it’s probably stressful dealing with this all by yourself. If it were me, I’d want company.”
Xander’s shoulders relax, a soft smile tugging on his lips. “Uh…I mean, sure, if you want to, that’d be really nice.”
Grinning at him, I say, “Sweet. We can take my truck.”
After he changes into some jeans and puts on some shoes, we head out. As soon as we climb into the truck, his sweet scent fills the cab, and I try my hardest to not obsess over it. Easier said than done.
Boyfriend, Cope. He has a boyfriend.
Confiding in Shooter about how I’m feeling—or how I think I’m feeling—helped, but I also feel like it opened a can of worms,These feelings I thought I had for Xander seem to be amplifying, which is the opposite of what should be happening.
What I said to Shooter is true, though… I can be there for him platonically.
I can.
12
XANDER DAWSON
“Are you comfortable?” I ask my aunt as I climb into the driver’s seat, buckling my seatbelt.
“I’m fine, Xander.”
