“Don’t,” he says, cutting me off. “This isn’t up for discussion. You’ll need it. Trust me. Traveling all the damn time isn’t cheap. That’s where most of my money has gone to.”
Being broke is something I can relate to. When I first moved to Detroit, I barely had enough in my bank account to feed myself. If it wasn’t for Quinn helping me to get a job, I’m not sure what I would’ve done. With that being said, I did manage to make it without much money, so Xavier and I will figure out a way to get by, too.
The thought of Quinn sets my mind spinning on how we can save a little money. “Fine, but since we’ll be squeezed for money until everything gets worked out, I think we should stay with Quinn and Aunt Dee.”
Xavier raises one of his thick eyebrows. “That won’t work.”
“Why not?” I argue. “I know they won’t care, and it will save us from spending money on two hotel rooms.”
“Their place is small, Anna, and while it’s fine for you to stay with them, I’m a big guy. I take up a lot of room and will wear out my welcome pretty fast.”
“That won’t happen.” I do my best to assure him, but he simply shakes his head.
“It will. Trust me. I bounced around from place to place after leaving home, and that was why most people kicked me out. It’s hard to become transparent when you’re six-four and two hundred sixty-five pounds.”
I sigh, seeing as how he won’t change his mind about this. That leaves one other place in Detroit where we could stay for free—his house, the one he owns and refuses to talk about.
Xavier doesn’t mention his family, and he’s made it crystal clear that pushing him into talking about it won’t benefit either one of us. The times following nightmares that wake him from a dead sleep are the only glimpses I get into his past with his family life. The house he owns is a touchy subject, so I’m guessing it has to do with his family. Based on the story he told me before, it’s possible the house is the one his mother died in, and the memories are too much to bear.
I don’t want to bring up things that could hurt him, but I worry if he doesn’t face the darkness of his past, he’ll never make peace with it. I want to be there for him, to show him that it’s okay to let go of the stuff that haunt him.
“Then, we should stay at your place.” It’s wrong of me to push this, but seeing as how we are in a tough predicament, living in the house he owns seems like the logical choice.
Xavier blows a rush of air through his nostrils, and I instantly regret saying anything.
“I won’t go back there.” His words come out in an angry growl.
I swipe a strand of his wild dark hair off his face as I gaze down at him. The uneasiness in his blue eyes is clear, and I hate that his past hurts him the way it does. I want to help him heal.
“Don’t,” he whispers. “I can’t handle it when you look at me like that.”
I’m instantly taken aback. “How am I looking at you?”
“With pity,” he says. “I fucking hate when people pity me, especially when it comes from you.”
This conversation gives me a flashback to the time we had an argument over talking about his family once before. When we were in my old boss, Andy’s, office back at the restaurant I once worked for, we had a huge blowup over me trying to get him to open up about his mother. He stormed out on me, and I had to chase him down to apologize. I don’t want to repeat that situation anytime soon.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry. I know that. God knows, you’ve told me enough times that you don’t like to talk about your family. But if you don’t let me see that part of you, how am I ever going to really know you?”
“I’m trying.”
Those two simple words speak volumes, and it’s true. He’s come a long way from the man I met on the plane.
“I know you are, but I’m greedy. I want to know everything about you.”
He adjusts his head on the pillow, and then his fingertips trace the smooth skin on my shoulder. “Are you sure about that? My past—it’s the shit that horror stories are written about. I’ve spent my entire life trying to forget the shit that happened to me.”
I stare into his eyes. “Maybe it’s time to stop forgetting. If you faced the things that scare you the most, it might help those nightmares go away.”
“Or it could make them fifty fucking times worse.”
“How will you know if you don’t try?”
The pad of his thumb drifts across my lower lip, and I can tell by the expression on his face that he’s really considering what I just said.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” I question, wondering exactly what he’s just agreed to.
“We’ll stay at the house I own—or at least try to. I haven’t been back there since I was fifteen, so I can’t promise you that I won’t change my mind when we get there. A lot of evil shit happened to me in that house, bad shit that I wouldn’t wish on my worst fucking enemy, and I’m not sure I’m ready to face it.”
“I’m proud of you.” I lean in and press my lips to his.
His taut muscles contract beneath my touch as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against his hard chest.