Without a word, I check the cupboards until I find what I’m looking for: excellent vintage whiskey. Hunter has always had excellent taste. The glasses are easier to find, and I pour a generous amount.
I present the amber liquid to Matthew, and his head jerks up in surprise. “Oh, um, no thanks.”
“Drink it.” Leaning my hip against the counter, I remain in his space. No one is better at waiting a person out, at patience for the right result, than I am. He’d best learn that quickly and do as he’s told without fuss.
As if hearing my thoughts, he takes it without more protest and downs it quicker than I’d have advised. Based on the way he coughs and clears his throat, he’s not expecting it to punch quite so hard.
While it’s smooth and husky, it’s not meant to be skulled like he’s drinking from a keg at a frat party.
“Feel better?”
“Not really.” He pushes it away and rests his elbows on the counter. He turns his head sideways to look at me. “It’s Xavier, right?”
“Correct.”
“You and Hunter—you’re—are you—” He bites his bottom lip and stares down at his mug as if it will give him all the answers he’s looking for.
“We’re married,” I supply. The way he lifts his head with wide, horrified eyes is mildly amusing.
“Married? Oh my God, I didn’t know. I didn’t—I would never have—”
“We’re separated,” I add if only to put him out of his misery. In a manner of speaking. An inadequate description for our situation but enough of one to satiate pieces of his curiosity. And get rid of the scared look on his face.
“Oh. That’s—” He deflates, relaxing. “That’s good. I mean—it’s not good likegood,you aren’t together anymore. Not like—I just mean because I didn’t want to be that kind of person or believe that Hunter is that kind of person. I don’t mean because you’re not—because—” He closes his eyes, mortified. There’s certainly more colour in his cheeks now. He’s as red as a tomato, in fact. I much prefer that than the ghostlike shade from earlier.
He’s so incredibly earnest, like a baby duck. If his brown hair were blond, he’d even further resemble one. So innocent. He shouldn’t be here; Hunter should never have dragged him into this world.
I tilt my head at a new noise and then twist to look at the small tablet on the corner of the breakfast bar. The screen gives a clear view of the front of the house, including guests. Given the timing, Hunter must have called him before we arrived. He’s probably forgotten. He wouldn’t leave Jericho and me alone in the same room under any circumstances.
“While I’d love to explain everything to you, we have a guest.”
Matthew tenses and stands, grabbing at the flap of my jacket. On purpose or instinct? “Like… more of those people?”
“Oh, no. Much worse. My brother-in-law.”
Xavier
“Brother-in—youmeanJericho?Howis that worse?”
“How much you have to learn, duckling.” If Hunter weren’t so attached to me breathing, I have no doubt that Jericho would have come for me a long time ago. He may have even succeeded. I don’t underestimate wolves like him.
“That’s not an emasculating nickname at all,” Matthew mutters, letting go of me. The sense of loss is unexpected.
With a chuckle I tug on a strand of his hair. I’m not one to resist my baser urges, so I thread my fingers through it. “Soft.” Like duckling feathers. Unsurprising.
“Yeah, that’s what happens when you condition it.”
“Is it?” He stays intensely still as I continue gliding my hands through his hair. The way it goes in all directions and clearly has no rhyme or reason reminds me further of fluffy baby ducks.
“I think so,” he breathes out, eyes flitting down to my lips.
As much as I’d like to continue this train of thought, Jericho will be almost to the back door now, and there’s no avoiding this confrontation.
Jericho waltzes through the door using his own key a moment later and doesn’t take his shoes off. He’s not here to stay, then. A retrieval of some sort?
He stops abruptly at the sight of us, giving Matthew a cursory glance before settling on me. He sneers at me. “Where the fuck is Hunter?”
“He’s rescuing a lizard,” I reply flippantly, amused by the way confusion flits across his face.
