Xavier Cold - Page 11/62

Every time I think about my mother, my mind always wonders about how things would’ve been different for me if she weren’t an addict. When I was young, I knew I wasn’t like the other kids at school. In my neighborhood, having a junkie as a parent was common, but most didn’t have to contend with a lunatic grandmother who was hell-bent on beating the demon out of them.

My bike bounces a bit when I turn into the driveway. The concrete is cracked and riddled with holes from years of neglect. If it weren’t for Nettie and Carl maintaining the place, I’m sure the rest of the place would be in bad shape, too.

I stare up at the brown house, and I zero in on the rusted wrought iron railing caging in the front porch like a prison. Quinn’s Honda parks directly behind me, and the girls get out of the car.

Quinn shields her eyes from the evening sun as she tilts her head up to examine the house. “You sure the two of you will be safe staying here? The neighborhood isn’t known to be a beacon of safety. Every shooting on the local news comes from this part of town.”

“He was raised here, Quinn. I’m sure Xavier wouldn’t bring us here if he thought we’d run into trouble.”

Anna’s sweet for saying that, but she’s aware this isn’t the safest place after the conversation we had with Nettie earlier.

I think the pep-talk is more to ease Quinn’s mind than her trying to get me to admit how horrible this place is.

Quinn turns to Anna, and her lips pull into a frown. “I don’t like the idea of you being down here. This place is the epitome of concrete jungle. The whole kill-or-be-killed mentality is very real in this neighborhood. It just doesn’t feel right, leaving you somewhere like this.”

Anna places her hand on Quinn’s forearm in an attempt to reassure her again. “Please, don’t worry. Xavier will be here with me. He’ll protect me.”

Warmth spreads through my chest as confidence rings in her voice.

I place my hand over my heart. “I’ll guard her with my life.”

“You’d better,” Quinn says. “I know where you live now.”

“This isn’t exactly home,” I reply coolly as my eyes narrow at the house in front of me.

Quinn glances over at Anna and raises her eyebrows. It’s clear that she wants to know the story about me and this house, but Anna doesn’t say a word. She just simply shakes her head.

“Okay then, maybe we should get your bags unloaded.” Quinn walks around to the back of the Honda.

After gathering Anna’s and my luggage, I head for the front door to face the demons of my past.

Chapter 6

Anna

Xavier sets the bags down and then fishes a set of keys from the pocket of his jeans.

My breath actually catches when he twists the knob and pushes open the front door. I don’t know what I’m about to walk into, but the tension floating in the air is so thick that I can feel it pushing down on my shoulders.

From what I can tell, Xavier is dreading going inside.

When Quinn steps up onto the porch, Xavier turns his head in her direction. “Thanks for the ride and for bringing our bags, but I think we’ve got it from here.”

Xavier turns to head inside, leaving Quinn and me alone on the front porch. The second he’s out of sight, Quinn grabs my arm and drags me back down the steps toward her car.

“What are you doing?” I question.

“I don’t like this. He’s being weird, and this house . . . it’s scary, Anna. The neighborhood isn’t exactly the kind of place you want to be when it gets dark. I think you need to leave him here, and you come and stay at my place. We can share my room, and if you need something to take your mind off of X, you can help me and Brock with the wedding.”

I pull back, halting Quinn in her tracks and she releases me. “I’m not leaving him, Quinn. He needs me.”

Her lips pull into a tight line as she studies my face. “Are you sure? It feels wrong to leave you here.”

“I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life,” I honestly tell her.

That earns me a small smile from her. “You love him.”

It’s not a question but a statement. I should’ve known that Quinn would be able to figure out how deeply I care for Xavier before I even had a chance to tell her. She’s excellent at reading me.

“I do,” I admit. “I love him so much that it scares me—like, it’s hard to breathe when I think about not being with him.”

“Damn, cuz. You’ve got it bad. I understand though. We Cortez women tend to do crazy, irrational things when it comes to the men we love, so I know there’s no dragging you away from this place, no matter how much I don’t want you to be here.”

I nod. “Thank you for understanding. I promise, I’ll be safe.”

She reaches out and grabs my hand, giving it a little squeeze. “I meant what I said earlier. Things get rough, you call me. I don’t want you over here, stressed or in a dangerous situation.”

I curl my fingers around hers. “I will.”

She quickly wraps her arms around me and then whispers in my ear, “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Quinn pulls back and gives me a small smile before turning on her heel and walking to her car. I wait until she’s buckled up inside and cranks the engine to life before I swallow hard and make my way back up to the front door to find out what is awaiting me on the other side.

I take a hesitant step inside and allow my eyes to adjust to the dim room. The curtains in the living room are drawn tight, and the only light entering the room comes from the open door. There’s a steep staircase leading to the second floor in front of me, and the rest of the living room is set off to the left. The furniture is dated but appears to be in pristine condition under the plastic covers. A round woven rug covers the hardwood floor that appears to run into the dining room attached to the living room. Our luggage is sitting on top of the rug in the center of the living room, and there’s no sign of Xavier anywhere.

I close the door behind me and begin to explore. On the wall are several pictures of a rather pristine lady wearing a wide-brimmed hat. She reminds me a lot of the upper-class women who attend horse races. In most of the pictures, the woman is with a dark-haired beauty with soulful brown eyes. When I look at this woman, there’s no mistaking the resemblance to Xavier, which probably means this is the mother he lost when he was only eight years old.