CUL-DE-SAC (On The Edge Book 1) (37 page)

CHAPTER 45

She was ready after twenty-five minutes,
surprising him anew, making him wonder when he was going to learn never to
assume anything where Catalina was concerned.

It gave them plenty of time to drive to his
apartment so he could throw a few random things into a duffel bag and put on an
act of being ready for the trip.

He sent a message to Kel telling him that
something came up and he was out of town for a day or two. The timeline felt
too optimistic, but he would be damned if even forty-eight hours didn’t sound
like an eternity, considering the circumstances.

Cat was silent, as if immersed in her own
thoughts, but it suited him just fine. Talking about anything seemed too much
like an impossible feat when he had to use all his willpower not to get sucked
into the past he liked to pretend was not his own.

But memories were rushing at him, images
were shoved into his mind until his teeth started to ache, making him realize
he had been gritting his teeth so strongly he managed to cause himself physical
pain.

Yet it was a good thing because nothing was
as sobering as pain and he would have taken substantial amount over mental
struggling any day of the week. He was used to the former while he had spent
years denying the latter.

It was Cat who opened this road for him
again and for the life of him, Xan wouldn’t be able to say how exactly she had managed
that.

He thought Catalina might attempt to pull
him into a conversation or worse yet
–
a confession of a kind–and he dreaded the
whole long flight. Women loved to talk things through for some reason, believing
it would solve problems. It didn’t; the only thing that ever did it was taking
action, although it felt ironic when he was locked in a plane around thirty
thousand feet above the ground, feeling like a prisoner of words if she felt
like ambushing him with them.

She didn’t and he was grateful.

During the six hour flight, they barely
talked at all and Cat dozed off a few times with her head on his shoulder. He
wanted nothing more than to join her and sail off into the oblivion as well,
but sleep eluded him. He was too wound up on the inside to stop the mad spin of
his thoughts, recollections, and all the things in between.

The truth was, he had no idea how to face
the woman who gave birth to him and act as if he shared her pain. He knew that
was exactly what she wanted of him, even though it was mind-boggling she could
have any kind of expectations after years of nothingness, preceded by
disappointment.

People usually believed that death was the
point that dissolved all that had taken place and altering the future. He
didn’t believe in absolving sinners as if their passing was undoing all their
vile deeds. While life was short indeed, it was also long enough for a person
to choose whether they wanted to do good or bad.

Simple as that, and he didn’t care if somebody
would argue that nothing in life was that easy. A naked, unvarnished truth always
showed reality the best. Complications were highly overrated.

He glanced at Catalina from the corner of
his eye. She had complications written all over her and he forcefully entered
her life fully aware of the fact. What he didn’t anticipate were the lengths he
was willing to go to just to ensure he stayed a part of it for as long as
possible.

Admitting his feelings would probably
strengthen the ties between them, so what exactly was stopping him? He
wondered.

Probably the fact he still didn’t believe
she had a grasp on who he was and where he came from.

This trip was going to be educational for
plenty of reasons, he decided, kissing the top of her head and closing his eyes,
wishing he could shut his mind off as easily.

***

New York welcomed them with sunny weather, causing
a smile to bloom on Catalina’s lips. But then she remembered they were not here
for a romantic getaway but under much more morose circumstances, and her smile
fell away.

She assumed Xan wanted to see his mother
right away, so she was surprised when he gave the cab driver the hotel’s
address instead, although she dreamed about a shower, nap and coffee, not
caring much in which order they would arrive.

The Condor Hotel was nestled into a
residential part of Brooklyn. It was quite a perfect place to stay in
Williamsburg, since it was in walking distance of the nightlife, but far away
enough so that a person didn’t have to deal with all the commotion and rowdy
crowds.

The décor was chic, with a modern but cozy
feel to it.

Catalina remembered from her previous stay
that rooms were spacious, the staff very friendly and accommodating.

She took Xan’s hand in hers as they were
going to their room, giving it a little squeeze, but he barely acknowledged it.

Cat wouldn’t be able to recall how many
times exactly she bit her tongue since they left California, but it had to be a
lot. She was silent nearly throughout the whole flight in order not to ask him
about something that could have triggered his vicious memories. She even
pretended to sleep, not finding anything better to do.

However, judging by the tenseness of his
body, Xan was being bombarded by the ghosts of his past anyway.

She wanted to be able to say something
profound that could help him deal with emotions. No matter what he said and
what he pretended to believe in, she knew there were plenty of them swirling
and sloshing within him, ready to spill. She was afraid that nothing but raw
fury would come out of it when they finally spewed over.

It seemed inevitable.

Catalina was surprised she could recognize
this violent need in him while she had spent her entire life mastering the art
of not showing emotions, better yet–not feeling anything. But Xan was in her
bloodstream, a part of her that was as familiar as if it has always belonged to
her.
“Are you hungry? You should eat and rest, Kitten,” he said when they were alone
in the room, and she nearly jumped out of her skin, surprised he had breached
the silence.

The fact that his first words in some time
were focused around her well-being managed to bring tears to her eyes. Tears
she swallowed, not wanting to show him what a mess she was while he already had
more than his fair share to deal with.
“I’m fine; how about you?” She dropped her purse on the bed and walked straight
into his arms.

He surrounded her with his strength, hiding
his face in her hair. Catalina kissed his neck, wanting to crawl underneath his
skin to warm it up because he seemed cool for the first time since she has met
him.
“What is your plan?” She wanted to know.
“A quick shower and then I will go to her. I may as well get it over with,” he
shrugged.
“Alone?” She really didn’t want to intrude any more than she already had, but
she came here to be with him, not to wait in the hotel room.
“You don’t need to feel obliged to do anything. Your presence alone is more
than anyone could ask for,” Xan said and he meant it.

Holding her in his arms felt more soothing
than anything else. Catalina was his safe haven, his breath of fresh air when
the bleak reality was pressing at him too hard.
“I don’t. I wouldn’t have offered to be here if I hadn’t wanted it, Xan.” She
rose on her tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

She flicked her tongue against his lips and
licked, savoring his taste. The hand he had on her back pushed stronger,
bringing her even closer as if he wanted to fuse their bodies together.
“I’m sorry, we don’t have time for it; it’s not what we came here for.”
“But I wish we had,” he sighed and let her go.

Disappointment pierced him like the most
lethal of arrows, designed and aimed in the exact way it could do the most
damage.
“Let’s go and visit Nina Thorpe if you are up for it,” he forced himself to
say.
“Let’s do that.” She smiled at him.

***

Seven years, Xan thought, it’d been seven
years since he paid New York a visit; as much time had passed since he saw his
mother last as well.

He understood each and every single one of
these years worked against Nina.

Only the eyes looking back at him from the
old woman’s face felt familiar enough, although even they were red and puffy
from tears, tired from the lack of sleep. Or maybe it was due to too many
worries gnawing at her like the horde of wild dogs her husband liked so much to
bet from time to time on.

She looked exactly like what and whom
Robert Thorpe made of her: an old, worn-out and used-up woman with her heyday
long past gone. Maybe she had been pretty at one time, but the only memory Xan
had was her looking exactly like she did now
–
with no hope in her gaze whatsoever.
“Alexander,” she said, raising her hand to her hair in an automatic gesture
known to every woman, but then the hand froze and fell down, as if she decided
her looks didn’t matter after all.
“Mom.” He always felt uncomfortable with calling her that, promising himself to
use her name the next time.

Yet each time the word slipped off his
tongue before he could halt it, making him feel like the hopeless child he once
was all over again.
“This is Catalina. She is with me.”

Simple words filled with unspoken promises
he wanted to make and fulfill.
“I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Thorpe.” Cat’s smile was full of sympathy
and along with her words, it was a reminder explaining their presence in the
house Xan promised himself never to step in. Although it was not the one he was
a prisoner in so many years before that now it felt like in another lifetime.
“Thank you, please come in. I didn’t expect you to come; you never saw eye to
eye with your father,” Nina said and his blood boiled at the mere mentioning of
the old son of a bitch who had never been a father but a tormentor instead.

But Catalina’s hand brushed his and it was
enough to stop the venom from pouring. For now, he thought, and clenched his
jaw, knowing he was right all along and coming here was a mistake.

The air filling the apartment was stale and
it was yet another vicious memory of times he wished he hadn’t been a part of.
Yet he was and no amount of turning his back on it would change the facts.

Catalina’s eyes burned and she told herself
it was because they were gritty from the lack of sleep, but the truth was her
heart clenched and went to Xan.

A shadow of a boy resided in the grown man
standing next to her and she wished she could take away his pain, to unburden
him. But the look of pure hate entered his gaze when his mother mentioned her
husband, and she could see clearly he would have given anything to be anywhere
else right now but here.

She couldn’t blame him, because while Cat
wanted to believe in second chances, she also knew there was not a sliver of one
in the musty air permeating the place.

For some people there was no turning over a
new leaf in life.
“Perhaps a cup of tea would make you feel better?” Catalina offered softly and
went to the kitchen when Nina nodded.

He wanted to stop her–or better yet
–
follow her and take
her away from this place. She should have looked ridiculous in the place that
could use some cleaning and he wondered where all the money he had been sending
went to.

But Cat seemed oblivious to the paltry
condition of the apartment, utterly focused on bringing comfort to the woman
she saw for the first time in her life.

She shamed and humbled him at once.
“She is a nice girl,” Nina said.
“She is,” Xan agreed, although that didn’t do her justice.

He waited for her to express surprise at what
such a nice girl would do with him, but his mother fell silent once more and he
understood he was not the only one feeling awkward.

Absolutely nobody looking at the two of
them could have said they were a mother and son. Were his thoughts not similar
when Cat introduced him to Florence Bennett? He wondered then as well how was
it possible the two women were blood related.

Another unexpected similarity, another
thread bonding them at the very core, even though he would prefer to never acknowledge
any of it.

He suspected that strangers would have
found more in common than he shared with his mother, no matter how much they
tried.

Not that they ever did, he stated bitterly.
“Do you need money?” He asked, because if the condition of the apartment was
any indication, she could use some cash indeed.
“No, it’s taken care of. The funeral is tomorrow. Will you stay?” She wanted to
know and he looked away unable to bear the pleading in her gaze.
“Yes.”
“I need to pack his… his things but I don’t… I just…” Tears started to slid
down her cheeks and she choked back a sob.
“Here is your tea, Mrs. Thorpe; you should rest and we will help you with that
tomorrow after the ceremony.” Catalina emerged from the kitchen with ready
drink and solution.

He wanted to protest, to tell her to stop
acting so fucking civilized because there was not even an ounce of a well
mannered thought in his mind. But he bit his tongue, trying to keep a tight lid
on the ferociousness tearing him apart as much as her sophistication was
rubbing him raw.
“We will be there,” he said curtly to the stranger that was his mother.