Page 85 of The Secrets We Built Together

Helen glanced around as if checking for eavesdroppers, then leaned in. "It was the summer before Xander's senior year. Gage would have been, what, fifteen? Sixteen?"

"Fifteen," Carol confirmed. "Booker had just graduated."

"Right, fifteen," Helen continued. "Gage had been out with that group of troublemakers he hung around with—not that I blame him, mind you, not with what he was dealing with at home."

Titus had settled at my feet, his head resting on my shoe. I absently fed him a piece of ham from my container, my attention fully on Helen's story.

"From what I heard, Gage had been drinking, got into a fight with one of the other boys—I think it was the Miller boy, though he moved away years ago now. Anyway, Gage took his father's car and crashed it into the old oak by the creek. Wrapped it around the tree like a pretzel."

"My God," I breathed. "Was he hurt?"

"Broke his arm in two places, cracked three ribs, and needed fifty-two stitches across his chest," Carol said. "Left a terrible scar, I hear."

"It's not that bad," Billie said quietly.

"And Xander found him?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Helen nodded, her expression grim. "Gage had been missing for hours. The whole town was out looking for him. Xanderwas the one who thought to check the creek. Found his brother pinned in the wreckage, barely conscious. They say he stayed with him, kept him talking until the ambulance arrived. Probably saved his life."

My heart ached, imagining a young Xander, serious and responsible even then, finding his brother broken and bleeding.

"Regina was livid," Martha added. "Not because Gage was hurt, mind you, but because of the scandal. She didn't even go to the hospital. Jasper went, but he couldn't stay long—had some business meeting he couldn't miss."

"So who stayed with Gage?" I asked.

"Xander," all four women said in unison.

"He didn't leave his brother's side for three days straight," Helen said. "Slept in that uncomfortable hospital chair, did his homework there, even helped the nurses when they were short-staffed."

"That sounds like Xander," I said softly.

"He's always been the one they all look to when someone gets hurt," Carol agreed. "Always the caretaker, that one."

The conversation moved on, but my mind lingered on the story. It explained so much about Xander—his need to fix things, to care for everyone around him, to be the steady presence in a crisis. He'd been filling that role his entire life.

And it made my confession feel even more selfish somehow. Here was this man who'd spent his entire life taking care of other people, who'd just gotten sober, who was trying to build something stable for himself. And I'd gone and complicated everything by falling in love with him.

"Blake? Are you with us, dear?" Helen's voice cut through my thoughts.

"Sorry," I said, blinking. "Just thinking."

"Penny for your thoughts?" Billie smiled at me, warm and genuine.

And maybe it was the lingering effects of the flu, or the comfortable intimacy of the small room, or the way these women had welcomed me into their circle without hesitation, but I found myself wanting to confide in them.

"It's Xander," I admitted, then immediately felt my face flame. "I mean, not Xander exactly. It's me. I think I've... complicated things."

"Ah," Helen said, understanding immediately. "Caught feelings for your fake fiancé?"

I nearly choked on my water. "How did you—? Are we that obvious?"

"Darling," Helen said with a knowing smile, "we all know it started fake, but anyone with eyes can see it's real now. The question is, do you both know it?"

"That's the problem," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I said something when I was sick. Something I shouldn't have said. And now I don't know if I've ruined everything."

"What did you say?" Martha asked gently.

I couldn't bring myself to say the words out loud again. Instead, I just looked at them with wide, panicked eyes, and Helen's expression softened with understanding.

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