Off Her Rockers (Loving All Wrong #3.5) (35 page)

Ninety Miles was set to go on tour immediately after the New Year holidays, and this had me more than a little worried about Xavier; what he would do when they were gone. What were his plans now that he’d left the band? Would he totally lose it without his band-mates? Would it be then that he would realize how drastically his life had changed and begin drinking again?

I worried about him
every single day
. I knew Xavier was the “take it one day at a time” kind of man, but ever since I lost him, I learned how to look ahead and prepare for the outcome of the storms that happen in the
now
.

That was the reason I didn’t hesitate in purchasing that land for him. It would be a perfect distraction for him when the reality of losing a leg
and
leaving the band all sank in.

His life was here in France. His real dream was here waiting for him. The problem was, he didn’t know it yet.

I needed to devise a plan to get him here, so he could see what I saw when I’d stepped onto that plantation.

Our future. Our happily ever after.

God loved me. I believe that now. He loved me to pieces. Only God’s unconditional love could explain Xavier’s phone call to Mick six days before Christmas. Yes. Out of the blue. He
called
.

Not me, though. He called his dad. With that one phone call came the answer to my nightly prayers: Xavier wanted to spend New Year’s with his dad. There. In France.

After all our hours upon hours of brainstorming ploys to lure him there, he just surprised us with that phone call.

They spoke on the phone for over an hour. He apologized for not having phoned Mick sooner, and on Xena’s behalf for not telling him about the accident. Yes, I eavesdropped, but when Jacob began babbling, which led to Xavier questioning whose baby was in the background, I had to flee the room.

I was giddy, excited, heady, and nervous all the same. It’s been so damn long.

Although I Googled the hell out of him on a daily basis searching for post-accident pics of him, I never found a single one. Either he was hiding damn well, or the paparazzi were giving him a temporary break out of respect. I had no idea what he looked like after all this time. How long his hair was. If he was bearded or shaved. If the lust for life was still in his eyes…

I was in the kitchen with Chloe whipping up some lunch for a fussy Jacob when Mick strolled in after his phone call.

Lifting Jacob up from the counter and into his arms, he gave me a strange closed-mouth smile and walked back out with my son.

I looked at Chloe in question. She shrugged.

Chloe had been somewhat down and emotional since finding out the reason behind Xavier’s uncharacteristic absence for months. She said it would have destroyed her had she known before because he was the closest thing to a family that she had. Said he always treated her with respect and like a woman of worth. That he was “zender and compazzionate.”

I hadn’t been sure what to think of her overly emotional reaction to the news, so I’d merely nodded as she cried.

Finishing the lunch platter for Jacob, I went in search of him and Mick.

I found them in the living room. Mick was lying on his stomach with a French book open in front of him, reading aloud to Jacob, who was waddling around him and giggling like a maniac. Likely trying to convey to the old man that he could barely speak English yet, let alone understand French.

Mick glanced up at my approach, closed the book, and sat up to a cross-legged position on the carpet. “Here, let me.” He reached for the platter.

I hesitated, but then shrugged and let him have it.

I knew this phase. He was falling in love with Jacob. Just like anyone who’s ever spent more than a day with that boy has. He was such a breeze it was hard not to love him.

Davian used to be like that before the fame. The “whatever, it’s just life” disposition that made me fall for him. He used to be easy to be with, easy to live for, easy to love. The fame had somewhat buried that personality. Now he was this super erratic, indecisive and aggravating prick—a hot-damn, sexy-as-hell prick.

Jacob spotted the lunch platter and let out something akin to a whoop as he moved as fast as his chubby little feet could take him in front of Mick, dipped one hand in the fruits section, and ended up knocking a morsel of diced fruits off the platter.

Mick chuckled but gently admonished him and told him to sit. Jacob obeyed and Mick began feeding him.

For the two months that I have been here, he’s been more sane than insane. Some days he would check out completely, and we just had to leave him be until he “returned”, but for the most part, he was chill. Just as he was falling in love with Jacob, I was falling in love with him.

Crazy as it sounded, I couldn’t see myself moving back to L.A. and leaving him behind. How could Xena ignore such a delightful and insightful soul as his? Whatever her deal was with him, she was missing out big time.

I lingered for a minute, curious about the weird smile he’d given me in the kitchen. And before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Do you want me to stay at a guesthouse while he’s here? I really want to see him, but I wouldn’t want to impose on—”

“He’s faking it,” Mick cut off my blabbering, feeding Jacob a tiny spoonful of diced peaches.

“What?” I asked, guessing he was referring to Xavier and not Jacob.

“The nonchalance. The just-happy-to-be-alive attitude,” he explained. “All fake. He’s angry. He’s unhappy. And he’s coming here stew to about it.”

I perched my butt on one of the sofa handles. “How do you know?”

Mick looked up at me then, and his eyes went soft. “He’s my son. I know him. He only comes here for two reasons: to stew, or to dream.”

To stew or to dream
.

He wasn’t coming to “spend Christmas”. He was
running
. If he was running to France to get away from it all, to “stew”, then my being there was going to be a disaster, not a blessing as I’d initially thought. That explained the look on Mick’s face.

I straightened and directed my steps to the hall leading to the guestroom. “I—I’m gonna go pack my things.”

“Excuse me?” Mick’s scruffy voice halted me.

“There’s a nice guesthouse three minutes from the hill,” I explained. “I’ll check in there until—”

“I thought you were determined to get him back.”

“I am. But I think it’s wise to give him some time to ‘stew’ before I jump out and shout ‘surprise’.”

“
Or
,” Mick dragged out, “you could change that journey to stew into a journey to dream.”

When I just stared at him, he continued, “Young girl, you
do not
want him to stew. You leave him to stew and you might lose your chance, because he just might stew you right out of his heart. What you will do is stand outside that front door and welcome him
home
. Let him think he’s dreaming for a second. Give him a taste of what his future could look like. That’s how you win.”

I bit my lip, fighting back a smile. This man, he truly was the best.

While Mick was distracted with me, Jacob stole a piece of kiwi off the platter and stuffed it in his mouth in a juicy mess. Mick’s head snapped to him and he mock scowled. “You little bugger.”

Jacob squeezed out a watery laugh, kiwi juices running down his chin as he echoed a muffled, “Ugger!”

Wiping off the liquid from Jacob’s chin, he grumbled, “You promised me you would bake me a rum cake today. Are you going do it or are you going to stand there and fret all day?”

Grinning, I walked over to him, bent at the waist, and pressed a kiss to his scruffy cheek, mumbling a “smartass” before skipping off.

As I was about to turn into the kitchen, I heard him murmur to Jacob, “Don’t even
think
about repeating that word.”

A cheeky giggle, and then a “
scmartasz
”.

I didn’t do nervous. I liked to think of myself as badass. There was a time when one person and one person only could make me melt, make me weak and vulnerable, and that was Davian.

Of recent, that person became Xavier. To an extent, I could stand my ground with him in ways I couldn’t back when I was with Davian, but most of it was pretend. Half the time I was stamping down the nerves and the fear of losing him.

Today, though, I was an entirely different kind of nervous. So intense I could faint.

Chloe and Mick drove out to the airport to pick up Xavier, and I was pacing around and around the house like a lunatic. One voice telling me to bolt, the other telling me to listen to Mick’s advice. Jacob was fast asleep and I was hoping he didn’t wake up anytime soon.

I froze when I heard the rumble of Mick’s jeep climbing up the hill. Heart in my throat. As if they would somehow be able to hear me, I tiptoed to the front window and shifted the curtains a little to peek.

Mild sprinklings of snowflakes floated from the heavens, chilling the air.

I watched as the jeep recklessly swung up alongside the small front garden, and as my heartbeat shot off I drew back and pressed my back against the wall.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale
.
Relax, Alina. It will all work out
.

A car door slammed and it was as loud as a gunshot to me. I shifted the curtain to peek out again. Chloe had climbed out of the back, which was weird considering she’d been the one driving when they left.

Mick slammed out of the passenger side next, which meant, color me shocked,
Xavier
was driving.

Laughing and saying something to Chloe, Mick jaunted to the back of the jeep and lifted a suitcase out of the trunk.

As the driver’s door opened, Chloe hurried toward it as if to offer help or something. A glimpse a hand waved her off.

His hand
.

With a coy smile, she backed off.

Then…he stepped out. Straightening to his full height, a mile above the jeep. His lips were tipped up, smile brilliant, attention on Chloe as he said something to her.

She blushed, and her eyes darted briefly to the house and then back to his chest, or maybe his neck, just not his face. Christ, but he could make that girl blush like nobody’s business.

Heart drumming within the confinements of my ribcage, I nervously licked my lips.

Xavier’s hair was touching the top of his shoulders now. Full and bouncy and curly, not wavy like it had been when it was longer. The sunburn highlights were no more. Just blond. Too blond. That natural shade of blond made him a little too…pretty. The kind of ridiculously pretty that had names like Chase or Asher. Add to that a clean-shaved face, highlighting the angles of his jaw. Plus, his skin could do well with some sun or a tanning booth to kill his current paleness that came only from being indoors for too long.

Shifting from one foot to the other, I waited impatiently for him to close the car door so I could see the rest of him. He was still focused on Chloe, the poor girl blushing redder and redder by the second.