Page 68 of Xander

The catastrophic words settled in my chest like ice. Logan was right. I read about women in abusive relationships who ended up dead. Their fate befell them upon leaving. Something about abusers being unable to handle rejection, and I knew Henry was no different.

Xander tensed. “I’d rather fight him for the rest of my life than give her back,” he spoke with such determination that I gaped at him, unsure what to say.

At that moment, Xander appeared much older than twenty-two. A lifetime of defending his mother and brother from his father’s wrath had shaped him into the role of a protector. It had aged him, unfairly so. No one should shoulder that much responsibility from such a young age.

“And we’ll have your back if you do,” Noah joined in. With blond hair, green eyes, and freckled, reddish forearms, the team’s goalie looked a little like a stern young farmer. He was the quietest in the bunch, so I was surprised when he spoke up in solidarity.

The rest of his teammates echoed the sentiment, raising their drinks in a toast.

“He’ll have to go through us.”

“We got you, man.”

Apart from Kai’s quiet skepticism, none of them seemed particularly uncertain about taking Henry on.

These guys didn’t know me. Why were they going to bat for me? Surely, they knew Xander’s father was powerful, and the team might face backlash for his actions. Why would they offer to endure potential public scrutiny on my behalf?

I stared at them, dumbfounded by my new reality where my celebrity stepson declared he’d go to war for me, and his teammates decided to tag along for the ride. They had to know there was more to the story, yet no one pressed the topic.

God, what a mess, I thought.

We reached a lull in the conversation, and soon, everyone returned to the easygoing vibes. Kai and Logan took to the jukebox, arguing over songs. Based on the silence in the bar, neither one of them had won yet, much to my amusement.

The bar had filled out since the team’s arrival. I had expected it to be packed with flannel-wearing hockey fans and hipster college students. I was a little surprised to find people who looked closer to my age. It reminded me of the places I used to frequent before everything became about finding the next hotspot and who had a feature in Vanity Fair.

It was almost possible to let down my guard in such easy surroundings, and I might have done so were it not for the imposing man beside me. I could only breathe after Xander excused himself to grab us another round of drinks. When his teammates joined him at the bar to do the same, I closed my eyes and took a proper breath.

My meditative state was broken by a rough voice.

“What are you doing here?”

Chapter

Twenty-One

JORDAN

I felt my ass leave the seat when I jumped, and my eyes snapped up in shock at the young man who could have been Xander’s double—Jasper.

Fuck.

Jasper was here. Why?

His dark eyebrows knotted in consternation in a painfully familiar way. His brother often had the same look on his face. Perhaps Jasper could sense my struggle or thought he might be the cause of it because his expression softened.

“What are you doing here?” he repeated, no less insistently but in a far less harsh tone than he had used before. “I got an invitation to Dad’s party this weekend. Aren’t you supposed to be hosting it?”

I was supposed to be a lot of things. Funny how that had changed.

“Um,” I said, stalling for time and scanning the bar for Xander. “It’s hard to explain,” I began nervously, wondering how much I could explain.

There was no way I could tell Jasper the truth. Inappropriateness aside, whatever I said would further sour things between him and his father, possibly his brother, too.

While I had a good relationship with Jasper, he was foolishly vocal about his dislike of Henry, much to his father’s chagrin. Unlike Xander, who could mask his true emotions under a thick layer of ice, Jasper was hotheaded. Henry had taken almost a sadistic pleasure in breaking Jasper and punishing the poor boy for daring to speak up.

He’d done the same thing to me, I realized. Then why did it take me so long to leave him?

It wasn’t because I loved Henry; I was now positive of that much. While his betrayal stung, I felt no pain at losing him. Perhaps love had made me bitter, though I questioned whether I’d ever loved him at all. Henry caught me at a vulnerable time, and at most, I had a fleeting infatuation with what he represented.