In a Heartbeat (MxM)

Chapter 29

I hadn't eaten much, aside from the granola bar I had before the meeting, and the sun was already setting. Sarah had offered up her home for the four of us to have dinner, but the thought of being in a room with happy couples was not ideal. After Aspen's nagging, I finally convinced him that I was just tired and was going to head back to Xavier's place to sleep.

As much as I wanted to be in their company, and enjoy a nice meal like a family, I just felt like a third, no, fifth wheel. I felt so out of place, even if this pack had been my home once.

So, I trudged up the steps to Xavier's home, surprised to see that he was in the kitchen when I walked in, some flour in his hair, as he frantically read the cookbook in front of him.

"Oh, hey," he said as if he was out of breath. He glanced at the mess he's made, before giving me a nervous smile. "Sorry, it's a mess, I was trying to make cookies."

"What happened?" I asked, smiling at how insane he looked, flour literally everywhere on the counter, some on the opposite side of the counter he was standing. I walked into the kitchen area, only to see that in the trash there were a couple batches worth of cookies all discarded.

He tried brushing some of the flour off his forehead, but it only got worse. "Well, you see, I was trying to make a nice welcome home gift, but every batch I made seems to go wrong."

I fished for one of the cookies from the trash, to see exactly what the problem was. "I think there's too little flour. Judging from the mess, it flew out of the bowl when you mixed it?"

He glanced at it, before looking at the extent of the spilled flour before laughing. "You're probably right."

"Maybe stick to the cookie mixes," I patted his shoulder. "I don't think you can mess that up."

"I was hoping to make homemade ones for the three of you, but I guess there's no hope for me and baking."

"Well, I can work on the cookies, if you could make us dinner? I'm starved."

He grinned. "You trust me cooking?"

I opened the pantry, to find a box of mac and cheese, tossing it to him. "Simple enough?"

He rolled his eyes before scanning the instructions, getting to work as I worked on the cookies. After every step, I watched as he read the next instructions multiple times to ensure he was getting it right. Of all the skills Xavier had, it appeared they all stopped when it came to the kitchen. A part of me felt sad, knowing that my sister would have been the perfect match for him. She could cook and bake like nobody's business. She was extremely patient, kind, and strong. They could've made a great team, a total power couple.

I tried my hardest to focus on the cookies, stirring the ingredients together when I could feel the tears starting to form. I missed baking, missed nights with my family making a ton of cookies for the holidays. Decorating them, and giving them out to our neighbors. I missed my unruly brothers trying to mess up our icing designs, or how I could sneak the leftover cookie dough for myself when no one was looking.

I was so tired of crying though, so tired of feeling sad about them. So I decided to watch Xavier work, which was amusing to say the least. His face was so incredibly close to the pot that I wondered how his face was not burned. He was stirring the noodles diligently, trying to squeeze one to see if it was ready. Other times, he'd pick up the cheese packet, trying to figure out when or how to put it on.

After an intense cleaning of flour from the floors, counter, and other nooks and crannies I had no idea how it got there, we sat at the counter eating his mac and cheese which was a bit al dente, but I savored regardless.

A few minutes passed in silence before he spoke up, "hey so about today?"

I hummed, before he continued, "I know it was probably a lot to take in, but don't think about what Michael said too seriously. I think he was just trying to get a reaction out of my brother, I don't think he's serious."

"What if he is?" I asked suddenly. "What if that's his plan. Pit us together so Vince is alpha again?"

Xavier opened then closed his mouth, unsure what to say.

"You think it'd be stupid of me?" I asked him, thinking about what Aspen had told me. "To go through with it. After every thing he's done."

"Um." He was at a loss for words, and I didn't blame him. Xavier was a nice guy, and I doubt he'd honestly tell me what he was thinking, but I wanted him too. I wanted someone else, aside from Aspen, to tell me that I was crazy. That I was insane for even remotely thinking about what Michael said. "I-"

"It's dumb, right," I told him. "Anybody would have walked away if they were in my shoes."

"Look, I-"

Before he could say anything further, I interjected, "I just want answers. And if that means going through with this to understand, then...maybe, maybe it'll be worth it."

Xavier let out a shaky breath before saying, "I think it's a very dangerous game, Simon. I don't think anyone wants to see you get hurt, especially Aspen."

"Isn't it only fair that I get to know why? To know what the truth was?" I could feel the frustration building in me, the tears I was holding back earlier dangerously close to escaping now.

Xavier bit his lip before grabbing a hold of my clenched fists.

He looked me dead in the eye, before saying softly, "I'm sorry, Simon. I don't have the answers, and I wish there was another way of you getting those answers. But...Vince is the only one who knows why he did it. I wish I could get it out of him and tell you myself, but I think you're set on hearing it from him."

He paused. "I think you deserve to hear it from him himself. You want, no, need his apology."

I needed to know. I didn't care how hurt I'd get, how painful it might be. But if this was my opportunity to get closer to him to learn why then I was going to do this. My family deserved better, they needed to be forgiven. The truth needed to be heard.

"But, Simon." Xavier squeezed my hand. "Please don't rush it. Take your time. If you feel at any moment you can't be here, tell me. I'll help you leave myself. Please be careful, I don't want you to get hurt."

I appreciated his input, happy that he hadn't scolded me or yelled at me like Aspen, but I could tell he was treating me like I was already a fragile thing. Don't get hurt, be careful. It was all the same. But I already was hurting. It didn't matter if I got hurt later, cause I already was. What was a little more?

I mean, what else did I have to lose at this point?