Page 85 of A Thin Line Between Love and Hate

“Who is on the phone?”

“It’s your ma, but she promised both she and your brother are okay.”

It could only mean one thing. “She didn’t say what it was about?”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be too invasive.”

The door to our floor opens and I hurry to my office, dialing the number before I’m inside.

“Clark, son?”

“Yeah, Ma. What’s wrong?”

“Xander is here, sweetheart. I got him calmed down but it’s bad.”

How did he end up at the farm?

“I need to get to him.” I begin searching the flights into Minneapolis. “I’m on my way to the airport. I’ll text JJ when I have a time of arrival.” I don’t have to know what’s wrong. But if he’s at my ma’s in the middle of the day, it can’t be good.

* * *

I’mout of JJ’s truck before he comes to a stop. I rush through the door where my ma sits with a cup of tea. “He’s in your room, honey. I’ve checked on him but he’s wanted to be left alone. You never asked me what happened.” It’s a statement and not a question from my ma.

“Do you know?”

“Yes. And like I said, it’s bad.”

I want Xander to be the one to share it with me. I have no luggage, just my briefcase and the clothes on my back. “How did he get here?” I didn’t see his car in the driveway.

“He Ubered. He was in no shape to drive.”

I lean over to kiss her on the cheek. “Thanks, Ma.”

She holds onto my hand. “I told you, as I told him, he’s part of this family. I’d do this even if you two still hated one another. He’d be my third son because it’s the only way I can honor my friend.” She lets out a sob, patting my hand. “Go, son. He needs you.”

I take the steps two at a time and open my door quietly, and I’m glad he’s sleeping, if this is as bad as my ma claims, I would have hated for him to stew on everything until I got here.

He’s nearest the door, yet I have enough room to sit on the side of the bed. I’m careful, as the mattress shifts with my weight because I don’t want to startle him. A rogue strand of hair sits out of place near his forehead and I toy with the loose tendril, careful as to not let my fingers touch his skin. He stirs slowly, and I wait for him to wake on his own. His eyes open, then widen with recognition.

His voice strains to speak at first when he calls my name. “Clark?” It comes out a question, but he repeats it as if his eyes are deceiving him and he doesn’t believe I’m real. “Clark?” he speaks again with a broken whisper.

“I told you, if you need me, I’ll be there.”

He doesn’t move, except his hands tremble as he reaches for my arm. “I can’t do it,” he cries and it’s so final.

Xan tenderly slides his hand down my arm, taking hold of my wrist. “Can’t do what, baby?” I ask.

“Live in a world where they were taken from me. It’s one thing when I thought it was an accident, but now…” His voice ends abruptly, and he buries his face into the pillow.

“But what, Xan, sweetheart? Now what?” I ask, but his body begins to shake, and a sob escapes his lips. “Baby, you’re scaring me.”

He tilts his head to the side, away from the pillow, and it’s when I look upon his bloodshot eyes, and there’s no doubt he’d cried himself to sleep.

“Murdered, baby. It wasn’t an accident. My mom and dad were murdered.”

I was expecting the unexpected, but his last words are beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

* * *

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