Damn, she was good. “Yeah. Something like that,” I said, poking at the perogies in the boiling water. My stove timer wentoff, and I opened the cabinet door for the strainer. “I need to go, or I’m going to drop my AirPods in boiling water. But thanks for giving me some tough love.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
After we hung up, I drained the perogies and tossed them into the skillet of onions and bacon, letting them soak up the buttery goodness. When I’d described this meal to Xander earlier, he’d texted back a simple,“holy shit.”I took that as a good sign.
He showed up right on time, letting himself in through the front door. I tried not to make a habit out of leaving my front door unlocked unless I knew someone was coming. “Damn, it smells good in here,” he said, setting his phone and keys down on my kitchen table.
“Does it?” I asked with a grin, flipping the last few pierogies in the pan. There was something satisfying about cooking for someone I cared about—not because I had to, but because I wanted to.
He came up behind me and put his arms around my waist as I finished up. “Mmm,” he said, peering over my shoulder at the food, resting his chin on me.
Searing pain instantly shot through my shoulder.
I sucked in a breath, my body tensing involuntarily as I twisted away, slipping out of his grasp like I’d just been burned. Xander blinked, confusion flashing across his face as I took a step to the side to put some space between us. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m just trying to cook.”
“Oh.” His brows pinched together, and his hands dropped to his sides. “Sorry.”
My stomach knotted up with guilt. I exhaled, reaching out to turn off the burners. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not you. I’ve just been really sensitive to pain lately. Sometimes even a light touch feels like…” I hesitated, gripping the tongs. “A knife.”
Xander studied my face, swallowing. “Why didn’t you tell me it was that bad?”
It was a fair question. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s hard to explain my pain, and it makes me sound crazy. I’d rather just not talk about it at all.”
He nodded like he understood, but his scowl remained. I grabbed two plates from the cabinet and began plating our food, turning to him with one of the plates. He didn’t take it. It was almost like he didn’t even notice I was trying to hand him something at all. “Just feels like everyone knew but me. I mean, you even told Graham.”
I sat the plate down, and I took a deep breath. “Now you know how I felt Friday night when Abigail rattled on about your woodworking and carpentry skills.”
His gray-blue eyes locked on mine. “Jillian.”
Was I detecting the slightest bit of annoyance in his tone? I let out a heavy sigh, filling the second plate with pierogies, onions, and asparagus. “Let’s just eat.”
He made no move to reach for his plate. “Look. I’ve known Abigail nearly my whole life. She was around when my grandpa started teaching me that stuff. Hell, he taught her how to use a circular saw, too.” He stopped to grin, shaking his head. “Her mom was so pissed.”
The very fact that this was the first time in our conversation he’d smiled wasn’t lost on me. “Neat. But that’s not really what this is about.”
“Okay. What’s this about?”
“I just…” I sat both plates down on the kitchen table and turned back to him with my hands on my hips. “I wish there was something I knew about you that Abigail didn’t. Just one thing.”
Xander scratched his jaw before lowering his hand back to his side, shoving it in his pocket. “That’s going to be pretty tough.”
Maybe what I was asking was unfair. If they’d been close since preschool, why wouldn’tshe know every detail about every facet of his life? I shook my head, readying an apology for my jealous behavior as Xander twisted his body around, leaning against the counter with both of his hands in his pockets. His gaze dropped to the floor before his eyes fixated on mine again, like he was weighing his next words carefully.
“Actually,” he said, pausing to clear his throat, “I can tell you something I’ve never shared with anyone.”
I sank into one of the kitchen chairs like I needed to brace myself. “Okay,” I said, my heart picking up speed. I was expecting a bombshell secret—like a crime he’d committed, a near-death experience, or something about his father, the one topic he always avoided. I knew there was a lot to unpack there, and the longer I thought about it, the more I hoped he was finally ready to talk about him.
Instead, he shifted his weight, took a deep breath, and said, “I’ve been… writing a book. A novel.”
Well, that was certainly last on my list of guesses.
“You have?” I asked, struggling to keep my expression neutral. He just nodded. I waited for him to follow up or give me a tiny detail, but he didn’t offer anything else. The ball was in my court now. If I wanted details, I’d have to pull them out of him myself. I felt a smile forming, feeling like I’d just gained access to a secret level of a video game. I couldn’t believe I was the first person he trusted with this. “What’s it about?”
“It’s…” Xander scratched the back of his neck, staring at the olive-green rug beneath his feet. “It’s a thriller. It’s about an investigative journalist who solves a decades-old cold case in his small town, uncovering some political corruption while he’s at it.”
On the inside, I was screaming, my mind filling up with about a hundred more questions. But I didn’t want to make him regretsharing this with me, so I tried to play it cool. “That sounds incredible. Maybe a little autobiographical?”