Home sweet home.
I stepped from the car and walked up the incline of the driveway. I was halfway to the bottom step of the porch before apprehension filled my gut. Someone was there, on my porch.
“Who’s there?”
The person stood, and without the aid of any illumination, I could make out the broad shouldered figure with the cocky stance. “It’s me. Xander.”
My shoulders fell in relief that the danger wasn’t of the physical variety, but my jaw clenched at the mental anguish to come. “What do you want?”
“I want to talk. For real, and with no interruptions. Please.” The fact that he added please worked, but only a little. I lifted my shoulders and lowered them with a fortifying sigh.
“Fine. You want to talk, talk. But we do it out here.” There was no way I would let him invade my personal space. The scent of him, the sight of him among my few belongings would never leave.
Xander nodded and dropped back onto the glider I’d found at a rummage sale last summer and reupholstered with the help of Mirabelle Vargas. When he spoke, his voice was low and filled with some emotion I couldn’t identify.
“I’d like to know what you meant when you said you gave up a life for me.”
Of course that’s what he was fixated on. “Don’t worry Xander, I didn’t have a baby or anything quite so dramatic.” The words made my legs shaky and I sat on the top step, leaning against the cement post so I could see him, though I couldn’t see him all that well thanks to the cloudy night that hid the moon on and off.
“Well what did happen Mara?”
I shook my head, feeling tears sting my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this Xander.” Especially with him.
“I’m sure you don’t, but I feel like I’m missing a lot Mara. Please.” He misunderstood my silence and sighed. “Will you tell me about juvie?”
“What do you want to know? It was jail for juveniles, Xander. I’m sure you know plenty about it after your years in law enforcement.”
He shook his head. “How did you end up in juvie? What did you do?”
I shook my head and stood. “What did I do? I think you mean what did we do, because last I checked we were both there, Xander. Just because your parents bought your way out of trouble doesn’t mean that you didn’t do anything. You simply avoided paying the consequences.”
“Wait! What are you saying?” His confusion seemed genuine, then again I knew how accomplished liars both men and police officers could be.
“No way. I’m out.” I unlocked the door and gripped the knob with all my might. “You already got more answers than you deserve. Good night, Sheriff.” I slipped inside my house before Xander could touch me or otherwise stop me from putting some much needed distance between us.
Xander smacked the door with his palm, making the whole door shake from the force of his actions. “This isn’t over, Mara. I will have my answers.”
He was so arrogant, something I used to love about him, that he actually believed he had a right to answers. “It’s been over for years, Sheriff. If you want answers, I’m sure Mother and Father will be happy to answer them for you.”
I made my choices back then, and Xander had made his, whether or not he wanted to believe it. I lived with those consequences every single day and Xander would have to find a way to do the same.
Xander
Just because your parents bought your way out of trouble.
That phrase was the one that stuck with me for the rest of the night after I left Mara’s place, mind reeling from the implications. What did my parents have to do with her at all? They never liked Mara or approved of our relationship, but they would never interfere like that.
Would they?
There was only one way to find out. A call to my father went unanswered, probably because he was on an important call overseas. It was his go-to excuse when I was a kid, and I was sure not much had changed about that, but my mother was a socialite. Her schedule was always full, but never too full to pass up a chance to tell me how much I’ve disappointed the family.
“Alexander, to what do I owe the pleasure of a phone call from my one and only son?”
I rolled my eyes at her dramatics. “I’m sure your daughters call you often.”
“True, but they are all busy raising their families. You sound good. Healthy.”
“Thanks. You too.” I hated that things were so awkward and stilted, it shouldn’t be that way between a man and his own mother, but it had been this way for as long as I could remember. “I have a question for you, about something that happened when I was in high school.”