Page 60 of Cross Me

Alexander had been right. I’d refused to see Anders’ feelings for what they were. Now I’d hurt them both. I made my way back to the waiting room. I needed to talk to Henry. I needed to leave and sort out this mess. I needed to figure out where to start.

But when I got back, Rachel Stone intercepted me.

“Can I have a word with you?” she asked me.

Henry hesitated, his hand lightly touching my elbow. “Perhaps, it would be better if…”

“It will only be a moment.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured him. Rachel stepped away and I followed her, my pulse ratcheting up.

“Is Anders okay?” I asked as soon as we were out of earshot. “If there is anything I can do…”

“There is. You can leave Silverstone.” Her voice was cold. She was no longer a trembling, anxious mother but a lioness. She didn’t fear me or my title. I didn’t mind that, but what I couldn’t understand is why she wanted me to go.

My brain spun on her words. “I can what?”

“Anders told me that he met someone, but I cannot believe—”

“I think you have the situation confused.” I stopped her, aware we might have stepped to the side but that hardly made our conversation private. “He must have meant someone else.”

“The last time my son was in an accident, he’d been dating a local girl for months. He didn’t even call to tell her he’d been to hospital,” she said harshly. “He’s never asked for anyone but friends or me.”

“I’m his friend.” It was taking a lot of effort to remain calm with her voice so full of accusation. This was hitting too close to home after what Anders had said to me. “Nothing more. I can understand why you’re upset, but—”

“You’re married, which is only one of many good reasons for you to leave before this situation blows up in all of our faces—your husband’s included.”

“That sounds like a threat,” I said coldly.

“A threat. A warning. Call it whatever you want. Just leave.”

I took a deep breath and focused on finding the right words. She had just faced her worst nightmare, it was understandable she was lashing out. That didn’t mean I had to just take it. I could, however, be understanding. “Let me talk to Henry. My family can—”

“Your family has done enough,” she spit out. “We were happy. Anders was happy before you came into our life with Albert’s self-indulgent games.”

I could guess why she’d left the household. Her opinion of my late father-in-law didn’t appear to be very high. “Your son chose to participate.”

“Anders makes his own choices.” She crossed her arms over her chest as if daring me to contradict her.

“So do I,” I said defiantly.

She stopped and studied me for a moment. We stood there, weighing each other. Would either of us win this battle of wills? Probably not. Because we weren’t fighting over what we wanted. I wanted to forget what Anders had told me and move forward. She wanted her son to forget me. But Anders was part of the games now and I doubted that either of us could convince him to quit. We were at an impasse. We were fighting different battles.

“Then make the right one,” she said softly, lifting her fierce demeanor to reveal a vulnerability that made my heart ache. “Leave here before you break his heart.”

Maybe she saw I was tired of being commanded. Maybe she saw I’d never wanted any of this to happen. It wasn’t a demand anymore. It was a plea—mother to mother.

“I’ve seen the papers. Anders has said some things on the phone,” she spoke hesitantly, waiting to see how I reacted. When I didn’t bite her head off, she continued, “Your husband needs you. You should go to him. Go to your family. Leave me mine.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ALEXANDER

Clara wasn’t answering her phone. The only information I’d received since the accident had routed through my people on the ground to my people here. At first I couldn’t bring myself to watch the footage. Car crashes triggered me too severely. One accident had changed my life forever, another had shown me what was important. That was a lesson I’d clearly forgotten, because my brother had nearly died tonight without ever knowing the truth. I didn’t know how to feel about that until I forced myself to watch the footage from Silverstone. Seeing it filled me with a white-hot rage that only Scotch could drown.

I was pouring myself another when Norris entered. He took in the glass without comment as he moved to the chair opposite mine. We sat for a moment, the only sound in the room the comforting crackle of the fire in the hearth. For some reason, despite its heat, I still felt cold.

“I assume you have something to tell me,” I said when I grew tired of the silence, no matter how companionable it was. I swirled the amber liquid in the bottom of the glass, wondering if I would have a third.