Page 53 of Even Beneath the Stars

They've barely said anything about what transpired with the cops and lawyers, and I can't hold myself back from asking. "So… do you have to go to court or anything?"

Xavier's reflection in the side mirror shows him running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Nah. No charges. Everything's fine."

The car swerves slightly as Denise whips around to face him. "Everything is certainlynotfine, Xavier." Her usually composed voice carries an edge I've never heard before. "Phil's lawyer managed to keep this quiet and your father's lawyer convinced them to drop any charges, but that doesn't make any of this okay. You could have been seriously hurt. Or hurt someone else. And—"

"Convincedthemto drop charges?" Xavier wipes his busted lip with the back of his hand. "Those assholes are lucky we didn't chargethem."

I silently agree with him on this one. Those jerks brought this on themselves. And while that guy maybe didn't deserve to end up in hospital, he knew Dylan's story. He knew he was playing with fire and was still intent on fueling the flames. You can't add gasoline to a bush fire and then be mad when you get consumed by the flames.

"You were in a public drunken bar fight, Xavier! That kind of behavior—"

"I'm not drunk. I was drinking sodas all night. And the Foundry isn't a bar. It's a coffee shop."

"Don't,Xavier… " Denise's eyes flit in his direction again. "Do not mess with me right now." She returns her attention to the road.

"I'm not messing with you. Those guys stirred up shit and we just—"

"I don't care who started it." Denise's knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. "You're seventeen, Xavier. One wrong move, one bad punch, and you could end up with assault charges that follow you for life." She shakes her head, teeth practically clenched. "Not to mention what your father is going to have to say about all of this."

Xavier's jaw tightens. He turns to stare out the window. "Fuck what my father says."

"Well, easy for you to say," Denise returns in an uncharacteristic emotionally charged tone.

His nostrils flare, but he keeps his gaze locked on the passing streetlights. The silence that follows feels heavier than any argument.

Soon, the Mercedes's headlights sweep across the iron gates of the Rockwell Estate as we turn into the long, winding driveway. Bare branches cast skeletalshadows across the snow-covered ground, the winter gardens silent and still in the darkness.

Denise eases off the gas, the car crawling almost to a stop. She releases a heavy breath. "Xavier, I'm sorry. That comment about your father was completely uncalled for. I didn't mean it."

"It's fine." Xavier's voice is flat, empty. The warmth and fight from earlier completely gone, replaced by that practiced indifference I've come to recognize as his armor. Only the indifference isn’t apathy; it’s a fortress he built brick by brick.

"No, it's not fine." Denise's hands flex on the steering wheel. "I'm stressed and I took it out on you. That's not fair."

Xavier shrugs, his face half-hidden in shadow. "Don't worry about it."

"Xavier—"

"Denise." His tone carries a warning edge. "We're good. Let it go."

I sink lower in my seat, feeling like I'm intruding on something private. The tension in the car is suffocating as we continue up the drive, the mansion's lights gradually coming into view through the trees.

"I'll make you some tea after we clean up those cuts." Denise tries one more time to make amends. "With honey, which will help your lip."

"It's fine. I'm just gonna crash." Xavier's response is automatic, practiced—the verbal equivalent of a door closing.

We continue along the rest of the driveway in silence, broken only by the soft crunch of gravel under the tires. I watch Xavier's reflection in the window, his expression unreadable, closed off in that way that makes him seem a million miles away.

The Mercedes glides to a stop in front of the palatial mansion's West Wing.

Denise kills the engine but doesn't move to get out. "Alright, let's just head inside and get you cleaned up then." She turns to face Xavier. "We're all exhausted. Everything else can wait until morning."

I bite my tongue to keep from asking what she means by 'everything else.' Whatever's going on with Xavier and his father isn't any of my business, even if curiosity is eating me alive.

Xavier's hand hovers over the door handle. "It's a couple of cuts. I can clean them fine. You should go home. Get back to bed."

"Not happening." She's already out of the car, her boots making crunching noises on the snow-packed cobblestones as she circles around to Xavier's door. "You can barely see out of that eye, and I know you have no clue where the antiseptic wipes are."

Xavier mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like "mother hen" but doesn't argue further. He pushes his door open with a wince that he quickly masks.

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