Off Her Rockers (Loving All Wrong #3.5) (38 page)

“Here, let me have him. I need to clean him up and get him to bed.”

“No! Nobedth!” Jacob skipped around me, trying to escape, giggling, and babbling in protest, as he tended to do whenever he heard the word “bed”. He knew that the bed was associated with lights-out, and ever since he came to France, he had developed an aversion to lights-out. Sleep time was no longer his favorite. He wanted to stay up until all hours of the night and yap at me until I got a headache.

“Not having dinner?” Xavier asked me, carefully pushing up off the floor. It took him some time. Having a prosthetic leg was a big adjustment.

“Nah.” I caught Jacob by the tail of his shirt and tugged his scampering ass to me. “I’m in your hair enough. You need your space to catch up with Mick and Chloe. So I figure I’ll get out of your way and eat something later.”

He watched me for a beat, and he seemed like he wanted to say something, invite me to have dinner with them, but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded. “That’d be best.”

I saw Mick—who’d been planted in his recliner all evening, pretending to be distracted by his book—roll his eyes. He, too, knew that his son was full of shit.

“Nobedth!” Jacob griped again as I picked him and exited the room. He was sticky with cheese and jello and whatever else Xavier had been feeding him. Slapping his sticky hands on either side of my face, he grinned his cheeky face off.

“Abuse me as much as you want, son of a rock star,” I admonished. “You’re still going to
bed
.”

He stuck a finger up one of my nostrils. “I luv u’kay?”

I smiled. His speech got better each month. “I love you, too, my baby.”

I scrubbed him clean in a warm bath and left him inside for half-an-hour to splash around and play with his tub toys while I sat on the closed toilet, simultaneously listening to an audiobook and playing Candy Crush. I hated the act of sitting down to actually read a book. I didn’t have the patience or attention span for it, so I stuck to audio books, as they allowed me the freedom to do other things while listening. Multi-tasking I could do. Sitting in one place too long reading words…nope.

The audiobook automatically paused for an incoming call. Davian.
Oh jeez.

I sent it to voicemail—as I’ve been doing for the last two weeks. He wanted Jacob and I wasn’t interested in going back home, so he was blowing a gasket.

Zachary Webber’s sexy-as-all-hell voice resumed narrating again, seducing my eardrums, only to be interrupted a minute later by a text message.

I said ONE month. It’s been two.

Bring my son back, Ally!

Or I’m coming there to get him myself
. And it won’t be pretty if I do.

Deleting the text, I popped out my earphones and set the phone aside.

“Your father’s pissed,” I told Jacob as I wrapped him in a towel and lifted him out of the tub.

“Pisst?”He had a cute little look of confusion on his face.

“Yep. He’s pissed. Crazy pissed.”

His eyes widened. “Pisst. Ian is pisst!”

Laughing at his wide eyes, as though he knew what Davian being pissed meant for me, I proceeded to the bedroom, dried him, dressed him and laid in bed with him.

“I have a bedtime story for you, son of a rock star,” I whispered.

In a moment of peace and contentment, a moment high on hopes and what-could-be, I settled in and told him the whole story of how I met his father, got knocked up, got abandoned. How I met Xavier, and that we were going to be spending our lives with him, that he was going be his other daddy. He listened with bright eyes as if he understood all I was telling him. Repeating words and phrases in his own twisted tongue. Cheating me out of turning the lights out.

I didn’t mind, though, because I was enjoying every second with him, and so, my baby and I talked about the past, the now, and the what’s to-come, until we both fell asleep. Lights on.

Hunger woke me some time in the night. The bedside clock read 12:27 am. Damn, I’ve been out for longer than I intended.

Jacob was still sound asleep, knees drawn up beneath him and his butt pointed up in the air.

The house was quiet, with nothing but the soft humming of the heater. I knew for a fact that Mick and Chloe were fast asleep. Both were early risers, and could be found snoring in bed at nights by nine, the latest. I was the one who could be found roaming around the house at midnight.

Stifling a yawn, I slipped out of bed and stumbled out to the kitchen in search of food. My stomach growled loud enough to make me glance around with widened eyes, making certain no one was up to hear that, because damn if that wasn’t embarrassing.

Making as little noise as possible, I whipped up a quick sandwich with a piece of the ham left over from dinner and scarfed it down while still standing, too hungry to be decent about eating. I did sit to finish the huge mug of sweet cocoa I made to wash it down.

Once full and satisfied, I turned out the lights and started plodding back to my room. At the end of the hall, I paused and looked to the left, which led to Xavier’s room. Judging from the midnight quietness, he was asleep, too. What was the harm of taking a little peek?

Tiptoeing down to his room, I found the door ajar. No sounds came from within, but Xavier wasn’t a loud snorer. Unable to stop myself, I gingerly pushed the door a little wider so I could slip in.

His bedroom was dark with only the glowing numbers from the bedside clock, but the slip of light sneaking in from the hall was enough for me to make out two folding crutches propped against the nightstand, which meant he must have removed the prosthetic leg.

Knowing he always slept on the left of the bed no matter where he was, I sidled to the right, drawing close enough to make out his form under the sheets. He was on his back, arms folded on his torso like a mummy. I paused, listening for his breathing in the silence to determine the level of sleep he was in. Light or deep. His breathing was even, and I could make out the rising and falling of his chest.

Safe
, I decided. I needed an hour. Just an hour of listening to his heartbeat, of feeling his breath on my skin. Just an hour of being reminded what it felt like to be close to him. Just one stolen hour. A secret hour.

Carefully, quietly, I slipped in bed and under the sheets with him. Then paused. Waited. After confirming he was still asleep, I snuggled closer, as close as I could get without waking him.

A satisfied sigh flowed from me. He smelled good. So good. Warm, with a faint trace of hot cocoa. I could fall asleep right there and never wake up.

“You wanna know why I refused to see you?”

Startled by his voice, I stopped breathing.
What
?
He was up
?

Drawing back a few inches, I braced myself for another blast of rage, another slew of heart-slicing words, but they didn’t come.

What came was his hand snaking out to grab me, tugging me back to him. Closer this time. Tucked into his side.

Okay. So…he wasn’t mad? He wanted me to stay?

Then I got it.
The bastard
.

He did this on purpose. Lured me in. Left the door ajar. Feigned sleep. Set a trap for me. And like the greedy little mouse that couldn’t resist the damn cheese, I nibbled and got my tail clamped.

“Didn’t wanna see you,” he continued, making it clear his question was rhetorical, “’cause I knew I’d lose. One look at you and I would’ve given up on everything I know is wrong and right, and choose you. Like I always do. Always let you win. Always bow to you. Wanted to break that pattern. Wanted to get you outta my veins. So… told them to keep you far from me. ‘Cause I’m weak to you. No masculinity, no power, no will when you’re around. Was tired of feeling like a balls-less pussy. Was tired of letting you win. Chino, my head, my thoughts, my heart, my veins…full of you. All you.”

Focusing on my breathing to deter hyperventilating from his words, I touched my palm to his chest but said nothing, mainly because I
had
nothing to say. Except that, I wanted to hear more. Because Xavier rarely opened up emotionally, so whenever he did, I savored it.

“Fled L.A. ‘cause everything there reminded me of you,” he went on. “Wanted to escape it. Wanted to be somewhere where there was no mention or memory of you. Flew for half a day to
escape
you…and there you were. Ten goddamn feet away. Heartless black eyes slaying me.”

I laid my head on his chest. Listening to his heartbeat.
Thump. ThumpThump. Thump. ThumpThump
…

“And…how did that make you feel?” I broke my vow of silence.

“Weak, at first. Defeated. Angry.” His chest rose and fell with a sigh. “Not entirely at you, but mostly at myself. For not being stronger than your love.”

“But it’s
you
who gives my love strength, Xavi,” I informed him. I rose up on my forearms, searching for his eyes in the darkness. “You’re not weak. Never. You’re my Samson.”

“Perfect example.” He made a derisive scoff. “Love weakened him so much he gave up the secret of his strength. He
lost
. Just as I did. Didn’t lose by losing a leg, Chino. Didn’t lose by leaving the band. Lost by
loving you
.”

“How is loving me
losing
?”

“Because you’re a liar. A cheater. Disloyal. Untrustworthy. Selfish… And my only weakness.”

I rolled off him and onto my back, admitting, “I am all of those things.” I didn’t know how
not
to
be. The thing was, I believed I was all of those things by blood, and not by heart. I tried to change and failed. I tried to get help, but these unwanted attributes were inherited. I knew someone who was all of those things and more, and he didn’t apologize for it. Cousin Chad. Unlike him, however, I was apologetic about who I was but couldn’t change.

After a few minutes of defeated silence on both sides, Xavier’s hand found mine under the sheets, lacing our fingers together. “You searched for my heart when I shut you out.”

“I did.”

“You found it, and you stayed.”

“I did.”

“You confuse me.”

“I don’t mean to.”

“You hurt me.”

“I
never meant to.”

“Can’t trust you anymore, Chino,” he confessed. “Don’t think I’ll ever be able to again, to be honest.”

Shifting onto him, I straddled his hips, palms pressed to his chest,
wishing
I could see those silver eyes, but at the same time terrified to turn on the lights and see more than just silver there. Like pain. I didn’t want to see pain.

“Then don’t trust me,” I whispered into the darkness. “You don’t even have to love me. Just stay with me. Let me love and trust for both of us.”

He sighed. “And what kind of future does that leave us?”

I leaned forward, finding his lips with mine in the dark, kissing him deep, but unhurried. He groaned in my mouth and I drew back a quarter of an inch.

“
Promise
me you won’t make any decisions tonight,” I begged against his lips. “I wanna show you something in the morning. You can decide afterward.”

“Show me what?”

“A dream.”

“Wha—” I kissed him again, shutting him up, and his hands settled on my hips before slipping around to my ass.

I rocked against his erection, twisting my fingers in his hair, kissing him like it was the last time. He showed no less fervor than I did, as though sharing the same thought:
This could be the last time
.

His hands drifted up to my shoulders, sweeping down the straps of my dress and finding my breasts, cupping them, kneading. I arched into his hands, smoothing my palms over his pecs.

We both fumbled in the dark like horny teenagers, neither interested in switching on the lamp. I shifted and tore down his pajama bottoms, found his erection and fisted it, stroking. Like a crackhead, I inhaled deep at his familiar weight and heat in my hands.
God, I’ve missed this man
.
Missed this size
.