When Stars Collide (Light in the Dark #2) (8 page)

I brush my hair and pull it back into a sloppy ponytail. Since Xander made breakfast yesterday, today’s my turn. 

The house is quiet when I leave my room, and I close the door behind me so there’s no chance of Rae or Cade seeing Xander in my bed. 

I know Cade sounds like the biggest jerk of a brother, but he’s not. He’s one of the best, he’s just protective of me—he always has been, and I think that stems from what a nasty asshole my father is. He hits Cade. He always has, and I’m sure he’ll continue to do so until Cade actually stands up to him. Cade doesn’t know that I know—I found out by accident once when I came home early from a friend’s house and saw my dad punch him in the face. I know Cade keeps quiet about it in some convoluted way to keep my mom and me safe and happy, but he shouldn’t protect that monster. I think our mom knows too—she’d have to, or at least she suspects—but I know she’s afraid of our dad; most people are. You’d think my dad would stop walloping on him now that Cade’s a man, but I don’t think it has stopped. I haven’t actually seen him hit him again since that one time I saw by accident when I was in high school, but I’ve seen the bruises—bruises that definitely couldn’t have come from football, so I don’t believe for a second that it was a one-time thing. 

What sucks the most about no one knowing that I know is that I have to play the part of the loving daughter who adores her father when I can’t even stand the sight of him. All I hope is that one day it’ll all be over and I won’t have to play pretend anymore. 

I dismiss the less than pleasant thoughts from my mind and tread softly on the steps so as not to wake anyone.

I flick on lights as I go, illuminating the house, and enter the kitchen. 

I open the refrigerator and pull out everything I’ll need to make egg sandwiches. It’s just about the only breakfast thing I can make that’s any good. 

By the time I’m done, the other three have crept downstairs.

I put everything on plates and pass them out before sitting down myself. 

“I feel like I need to get a job,” Rae announces. 

Cade’s brows pull together. “I thought you wanted to focus on your photography this summer?”

She shrugs. “It’s not like it’s making me any money …” she trails off.

“Why don’t you advertise on Facebook?” I ask. “You could offer to do senior photos, or weddings—I know those aren’t really your thing, but you could make some money doing what you love and maybe learn a thing or two along the way,” I suggest.

She nods, but the way her lips twist, I don’t think she likes my idea. “Maybe.”

Cade takes a bite of his egg sandwich and says around a mouthful, “You should ride with us into the city—take some photos of the buildings, we could get lunch.”

Rae brightens at this idea. “That sounds fun.”

Xander’s lips twitch with the threat of laughter and he shakes his head. 

Cade and Rae finish up and leave, piling their dirty dishes in the sink.

I raise a brow and eye Xander. “I am
not
playing third wheel to the lovebirds. You better let me hitch a ride on your bike.”

He chuckles. “You aren’t scared?”

“No,” I say vehemently. “Motorcycles aren’t scary.”

“So—” he leans forward, his lips twisting with a calculated smile “—if I go fast, that’ll be fine with you? You won’t mind having to squeeze your legs tighter around my waist?” His eyes flick to my lips where my tongue has slid out, moistening them. I shake my head, and he grins. “Good—I’m thoroughly going to enjoy having you wrapped around me. Just be careful where you put your hands.” He winks and stands with his plate in his hand.

I’m too stunned to move.

Something tells me Xander’s just made the first move in a calculated chess match, and I have no idea how to play chess.

I’m screwed.

This was a bad idea. 

Xander looks hot as fuck straddling the bike with his leather jacket—the epitome of the bad boy, only he’s about as far from bad as they come which makes him all the more tempting. 

He holds out an extra helmet to me. “Are you getting on or are you going to stare at me all day?”

I snatch the helmet from his hands. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been formally introduced to this version of you, and it’s a bit surprising.” I wave my free hand at him. 

He throws his head back and laughs. “Introduced to
this
version? This is the normal version. Now get on.” 

I straddle the bike behind him, wiggling around to get my balance, before I put the helmet on. I secure the strap and say, “Ready.” The word comes out muffled thanks to the visor.

He kicks the bike on and then we’re gone. 

I don’t find it scary like he thought I might. Instead, I find it to be one of the most exhilarating things I’ve ever done.

We race down the highway, and everything blurs around us. 

All too soon, it ends as we arrive in the parking garage. My legs are stiff, but I don’t let it show. We hop off and Xander secures the helmets.

“Why haven’t you ever let me do that before?”

He laughs. “One, because I haven’t had it long. Two, because you didn’t ask.”

“I want to do that all the time now,” I tell him, smoothing my fingers through my hair. I’m sure it’s a knotted mess but I already have to stop off at the restroom to change from jeans into my skirt for work—since Xander insisted that I cover my legs on the off-chance we got in an accident. 

Xander smiles at my words. “Really?” He seems pleased, excited even, by the possibility.

I nod eagerly. “Oh, yeah.”

We head to the elevator together and then separate when we reach our floor since he heads to the office and I go straight to the bathroom. 

It doesn’t take me long to change, but fixing my hair—that takes a bit more time. I finally get it looking semi-decent and head to the office I share with Xander.

I think some of the people working in the building think it’s weird that Xander moved me into his office—the assistants usually have a desk or cubicle outside them—but they just don’t understand our dynamic. We work well together, and when we were separated, he ended up taking on too much instead of delegating things to me. This suits us much better.

I slide into my chair and Xander looks up from a blueprint. “I need you to call Debra with Synchrony Homes.”

“I’m on it,” I say and salute him.

He cracks a grin and returns to studying the blueprint.

I make phone call after phone call until
finally
it’s time for lunch.

“Let’s go somewhere for lunch,” Xander says, standing from behind his desk and loosening his tie a bit. Damn, forget the leather jacket,
this
version of Xander leaves my mouth watering. Button-down shirts and dress pants fit his physique like nothing else can. 

“Where?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Maybe that little deli sandwich shop around the corner. It wouldn’t be far for us to get back.” I look around uncomfortably, and he adds, “Cade’s already gone to meet Rae if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It wasn’t—” I start to lie but he gives me an understanding smile.

“Should we go?” He points to the door. 

“Yeah.” I smile. Lunch with Xander isn’t out of the norm, and I’m beginning to realize that we already do a lot of stuff normal couples do, minus the sex part … until the other night when we added that too. 

I thought that a lot would have to change for us to be a couple but I’m startled with the realization that basically nothing changes—we just get
more
. We get
real
. 

I stand and smooth my skirt down, and when I look up, Xander is looking at me with a heated expression in his eyes. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel zings of pleasure course through my body.

Xander and I head to the elevator and then to the ground floor.

We pass through the large glass doors and onto the street when he says, “Can I hold your hand?”

I look up at him, startled. “Why?”

“Because I want to.”

People bustle by us on the streets and yet it still feels like it’s him and me alone in the world.

I nod—actually, it’s barely even a nod, more of a little jerk, but he takes it as one anyway. He takes my hand, entwining our fingers together. I expect him to say something else, but he instead starts walking. We don’t say anything as we make our way down to the little corner deli. It’s a small building, with a drab dirty brick exterior except for a cheery red door. It’s not the nicest place to look at, but the food certainly makes up for the aesthetics. 

He lets go of my hand to hold the door for me and I step inside. There are a few other people already placing orders so I step into line and Xander falls in behind me. His large body seems to draw mine in like a magnet and I find myself leaning back into him. He touches my elbow, my waist, just fleeting little brushes of his fingers but my heart rate accelerates regardless. I try not to show how much I’m affected by those things because it’ll only give him more ammunition against me. 

The line moves quickly and I place my order. Before I can tell them that I want to pay for my own, Xander steps forward and says, “I’ve got it.”

I’d like to make a big deal out of it and say he’s only doing it since we’re married now, but it would be a lie; Xander always insists on paying for my meal when we go out to lunch.

Xander pays for our food and we move off to the side to wait. When our number is called, he steps up, grabs the paper bag, and we head back out onto the streets since there aren’t any tables free.

“Where would you like to go?” he asks.

“The park isn’t too far.” I shrug. “It’s a nice day so I vote we eat outside.”

He nods. “Good idea.” He moves the paper bag to his other hand and takes mine with his free one, smiling down at me. His brown eyes are light and carefree. I love seeing him this happy but it’s strange to realize that he’s this way because of
me
.

A five-minute walk later, we reach the park and find a spot in the grass beneath a tree, the shade providing a much-needed cover from the blazing summer sun.

We sit and Xander stretches out his long legs. It’s a little more awkward for me in my skirt, but I manage. 

He opens the bag and hands me my sandwich and water bottle. 

“It’s a nice day,” he comments, pulling out his own sandwich. “Don’t you think so?”

I fight a smile. “Are you seriously talking about the weather right now?”

He cracks a half smile and a bubble of laughter bursts forth. “Yeah, sorry.”

I smile and unwrap my sandwich. “Talk to me about anything
but
the weather. Please,” I beg, brushing an invisible crumb from my skirt.

He plays with the paper wrapping his sandwich. “If you were one of the Halliwell sisters, which one would you want to be?” He asks. “Is that better?”

I laugh. “Yes, and I’d want to be Piper. She seems like the most level-headed one—plus, who wouldn’t want to freeze time? What about you?” I take a bite of my sandwich.

He ponders it for a moment before finally saying, “Prue. She can move shit, and that’s pretty awesome.”

“Poor Phoebe,” I comment. “She only gets to see the future—and call me crazy, but I wouldn’t want to know that.”

He nods in agreement and takes a bite of his sandwich. “I think our futures are always changing.”

“You do?”

He chews and swallows. “Well, yeah—think about it. A decision you make today might affect something down the road and so on and so forth—just like we’re always changing as people. Nothing stays the same so who’s to say that the future will stay the same too? It has to be like the ocean, always moving like a current.”

“Wow,” I say, a tone of laughter to my voice. “You’ve given that a lot of thought.”

He shrugs. “I’ve had to.”

“What does that mean?”

He sighs and stares toward the sun, his eyes narrowed into slits. He turns to look at me and I can’t quite decipher his expression. “A story for another time.”

I’d normally pry to get information out of him, but something tells me not to press my luck. 

We eat in silence for a little bit until he says, “Have you figured out your major yet?”

I sigh. “No.” I pull up a blade of grass and rip it between my fingers like it’s personally offended me in some way. “I have no idea what makes me happy. I just … I don’t want to be a teacher, I don’t want to be a lawyer, or an accountant. There’s
nothing
I want to do.”

He presses his lips together and his tongue sticks out slightly—a telltale sign that he’s thinking deeply. “What about something with sports? You love football. You should do something that makes you happy.”

“Well, I can’t play sports, for starters.”

He laughs. “I was thinking something more along the lines of physical therapy.”

“I failed health class my sophomore year—I don’t think I possess the smarts to do that.”

His laughter booms around me. “I forgot about that.”

“I was so embarrassed,” I mumble. “Who fails
health
class? Me. That’s who.” I point to myself, and we both laugh. 

“Just think about it,” he tells me. “Maybe something will come to you.”

I narrow my eyes on him. “The fact that you think I haven’t thought about it at all is mildly offensive.”