Page 4 of The Keeper

“Still not swearing?”

An exasperated sigh vibrated through my ear. “I already wasted my allotted ten-bucks-per-week limit at the airport yesterday.”

I laughed. “Maxim’s going to get so rich off you and your potty mouth.”

“Anyway.” I could feel his disapproving eye roll. “What happened with the rando? I heard some of what you were saying to him. Is he gone? Was he weird?”

“If it makes you feel any better, he wasn’t a psycho. He just wanted to see if I was having car trouble.”

“I see. So the fact that he was mildly hot had nothing to do with it?”

“Not completely.”

Killian’s soft laugh soothed my frayed nerves. “You are a piece of work. Does he tick all the boxes for you?”

“Knock it off.”

“Get your ass back here. Max and I want to go into town to the pub you’re always telling us about. Plus a few others.”

Back inside the car, I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and readied myself for the remaining drive. The black ribbon of road rolled out in front of me, leading me closer to the place I never thought I’d see again. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on the house or my family or my sister. I had to focus. Driving on the left side of the road always kept me more aware of my surroundings. If I let myself zone out, I’d end up in one of these pretty fields, probably inches away from a tree.

One of the last times we were all here together as a family, my dad took us out to teach us how to drive on the left.

Us.

My grip tightened on the steering wheel.

There was no more us. There was only me. And as usual, I was left to my own devices to clean up someone else’s mess.

Xavier

Ican’t stand surprises. They don’t enhance anything and to be blunt, the inconvenience is considerable. Plus, the lack of control I’d have over the situation is beyond undesirable. For example, stopping on the side of the road to help what I’d thought was someone with car trouble. That turned out to be, well, I’m still not sure what that was.

I pushed the memory out of my head and mentally prepared myself for tonight’s boys night out. I’d only agreed to go since it was with my two closest mates. They promised it would be low-key and far away from London. Forty-five minutes away was the negotiated compromise. My reputation aside, this was one thing I did not want turned into the social event of the decade. Not that it would make one bit of difference to the outside world.

The night was crisp. Not cold exactly, but that weird chill when winter tries its damnedest to turn into spring. I slowed my stride to admire some of Briarcliff Village’s quaint architecture. I always appreciated the inner workings of a structure.

The bare bones and stark lines begging to be fleshed out into something unique, spectacular, and memorable. I supposed being an architect’s son had its benefits. Appreciating the beauty in something from its bleak beginnings. That’s a trait I happily attributed to my father.

Well, happily is a strong word choice. Let’s go with it’s one of the better ones I’d inherited. Actually, one of the only few good ones.

“Hey, Maddox. Get your arse over here.”

Cade Gallagher stood in front of the pub surrounded by at least half a dozen people. The star striker smiled with ease as he took pictures and signed autographs. My good friend enjoyed adoration and public praise almost as much as I did.

“Keeping a low profile as usual, I see.” I shook his hand, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Welcome to the show.” He grinned. “Gotta give the fans what they want.”

The crowd grew around us, with more people clamoring for Cade’s, and by default, my attention.

“We heading inside now?” I tilted my head toward the door. I turned to walk away when a blur of gray and blue crashed past me.

I jumped back, but not before getting whacked in the ribcage.

“Hey, Gallagher, you whiny, no-talent arsehole.” The guy who just blew by me was in Cade’s face, shaking a fist. I grabbed the back of his gray jacket and yanked him away, getting a good, strong whiff of alcohol as I did.

“Lemme go,” he slurred, struggling against my grasp.

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