Dom X - the Complete Box Set

by M. S. Parker

  That's what I had to remember. As much good as this trip was doing for me, it wasn't about me. This was about X, and making sure that he was okay. Father O'Toole hadn't gone into any specifics about X's mental state, but the actions the priest had described worried me. His urgency also told me more than his words.

  I didn't go to the ticket counter, but rather to the rental car I'd arranged to have waiting for me. Father O'Toole had offered to come pick me up, but I'd declined, saying I'd rather get the lay of the land, so to speak. I didn't mind driving, and it would give me a chance to clear my head from the flight. It'd been three hours, but the time difference meant that I'd arrived here four hours later than I'd left, making it early afternoon here. At least an hour wasn't much in the way of jet-lag.

  The directions Father O'Toole had given me were good, so I had no trouble finding my way to Rittenhouse Square. What he hadn't told me, however, was the sort of neighborhood it was in. When the priest told me that there was a trust to pay for my expenses and a house where I'd have an entire floor, I'd assumed it was some cramped fixer-upper the church had given him for X, and I'd be staying in an attic. I hadn't really thought of it being a bad neighborhood, but I definitely hadn't expected anything like this.

  Three story, red brick. Not exactly colonial, I didn't think, but definitely somewhere close to that time period. How in the world had a priest gotten his hands on this place? For the first time, I considered the possibility that the trust he'd mentioned had nothing to do with his parish.

  I parked in front of the house, unsure where he'd want the car, then took a deep breath and checked my reflection in the mirror. Despite the make-up I'd applied before leaving, the shadows under my eyes were still visible. I adjusted the clip holding my hair back and hoped I was presentable enough. I didn't want to fuss over my appearance and make it look like I was trying to look good for X. Business presentable. That's what I wanted.

  I exhaled slowly, then got out of the car. It was quieter here than I'd imagined it would be. I thought all big cities sounded the same. San Antonio was certainly full of noise, though I had to admit that I rarely ventured outside the small area that included work and home. I couldn't speak for all of Philadelphia, but this part was definitely much nicer than I'd anticipated.

  I walked up the short front sidewalk, up the stairs, and knocked on the door. A minute passed and it opened. Father O'Toole beamed at me, and I couldn't help but smile back. I had a vague memory of my Grandpa Prinz smiling at me like that.

  “Welcome, my dear. Come in.” He stepped to the side and swept out his arm. As I walked past, he asked, “No luggage?”

  “I have a couple bags,” I said. “They're in the car. I figured I'd take a look around before bringing them in.”

  The father nodded. “I understand. You won't want to bring any additional things until you're certain you're staying.”

  “That's right.” I felt bad for saying it, but I had to make sure he understood, up front, that it wasn't guaranteed. I knew all too well what false hope could do.

  “Let me show you around,” the priest said. His smile looked tighter now, but no less genuine. “On the first floor, we have the living room.” He gestured to our right. “The dining room.” To our left.

  When he started to walk, I followed, the knots in my stomach tightening more with each step. X was here, but he hadn't come down to meet me. I didn't know what that meant. Had the father not told him I was coming? Or did X not want me here? I wasn't sure which scenario to hope for.

  “Here's the kitchen.” Father O'Toole paused in the middle of it. “Since the chef is gone, I appreciate some help keeping the kitchen stocked with decent meals. None of them have to be elaborate, and I don't expect you to cook to X's tastes. If you want to spend one day making meals for the next five or six days, that's fine. I just don't want X eating any of those pre-packaged things.”

  I nodded. He'd mentioned the cooking before. I didn't mind. I actually enjoyed it, but rarely had time to do more than zap something in the microwave. The kitchen wasn't elaborate, but everything in here was top of the line. Definitely a job perk.

  “There's a door to the basement,” he continued. “It's pretty much just used for storage right now, but it's clean and well-lit. There's a walk-in pantry and a supply closet over there.” He started back the way we'd come in and went through the living room this time. “The first-floor bathroom is through there.” He pointed. “Then the library slash office.” He gestured to another door. “It's not huge, but it has a decent collection. There's a pull-out couch in there that I've been using the past few nights.”

  “You don't have a room?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “This was my family home, but when I started using it for charity work, I ceased keeping a room here. My work keeps me downtown most of the time, so I rarely come out here.”

  I wasn't sure why this came as a surprise to me, but it did. I hadn't realized that I'd be staying with X alone.

  “You'll have the top floor,” Father O'Toole said, walking back through the living room to the stairs. “There's a bedroom, full bath, and an extra room that I had set up as a living room of sorts. You're welcome to make any changes you wish. I want you to think of it as yours for as long as you're with us.”

  I didn't want to think about how long or short that would be.

  He started up the stairs and I followed.

  “X has the second floor. There's a bedroom, full bath, living room, and I turned the fourth room into a therapy room for him. I had his physical therapist order the latest equipment. You'll meet him on Monday. He's the only one X hasn't chased off.” The priest paused on the landing and gestured down the hall. “We keep all of the medical supplies in the therapy room. First door to the left.”

  I nodded, wondering which room X was in, and why he was hiding. Unless he was sleeping, which I didn't doubt was a possibility. He'd slept fitfully in the hospital and I doubted it'd gotten any better here. If it had, I wouldn't be here.

  Before I spent too much time wondering, the first door on the right opened and a billow of steam rushed out.

  Bathroom.

  Then X followed, confirming my guess as he stepped into the hallway, drying his hair with the towel hanging around his neck. His skin glistened with moisture and I watched a drop of water make its way down his chest.

  And then I realized that he didn't have a towel around his waist.

  Heat flooded my face as I pulled my gaze up just in time to see his eyes narrow.

  “What the fuck is she doing here?”

  The words felt like a blow. I hadn't expected overwhelming happiness, but I'd at least thought he'd be cordial.

  “Xavier!” Father O'Toole said sharply.

  He stepped in front of me, as if to shield me from the sight of X's naked body. Or maybe to protect me from the words. Probably both.

  “It's not like she hasn't seen a naked man before, Father.” X's voice was full of bitterness. “And she won’t cringe away from the scars. You don't need to block her. Let her see that I'm fine and she can go back to her boyfriend and parents and job with a clear conscience.”

  “She's not here to appease her conscience, X.” Father O'Toole remained firmly in front of me. “I hired her to help here.”

  “I don't need her help,” he snapped. “You hear that, Nori? I don't need you here.”

  “You obviously need something.” Father O'Toole's voice hardened. “You weren't supposed to get those bandages wet. You're going to make things worse.”

  The pain I heard in X's brittle laugh twisted my heart.

  “I doubt it. Why don't you just leave me alone? I can take care of myself.” He raised his voice slightly. “Go home, Nori. I don't want you here.”

  A door slammed and I watched the priest's shoulders slump. I forced myself to keep my face blank. People who were hurting always said things they didn't mean, or even if they meant them, they came out more cruel and cutting than they would have under normal circ
umstances. Sometimes it was anger that they were broken and the people around them were whole. Sometimes it was fear of rejection. I had a feeling that it was both for X. I reminded myself of that and pushed the hurt aside.

  “This way.” The father continued up the stairs and I followed.

  It was slightly smaller up here than the second floor had been, the walls and ceiling clearly sloped to accommodate the roof. It was still the same size as my apartment back in Texas.

  Father O'Toole turned to me. “Feel free to explore and arrange things to suit your tastes. All of the rooms are furnished and the linen closet is fully stocked. If you decide to stay, you can bring whatever you want from home. There are plenty of places these things can go where they'll do good.”

  “And if I don't stay?” I asked quietly.

  The priest's eyes saddened. “I'd never pressure you, my dear, but I do hope you'll stay on. What you saw downstairs...in the week since he's been back, he cycles between rude and belligerent, to not wanting to even get out of bed. I'm not sure which is the most frightening.”

  I swallowed hard. I knew all too well what the father was feeling.

  “I've helped all I can,” he continued. “But I'm afraid that if something doesn't change for X...” His voice trailed off for a moment. “I believe you're the only person who can help him.”

  I said the only thing I could in response to that. “I'll do my best.”

  Chapter Nine

  Xavier

  I stepped out of the shower feeling smugly pleased with myself. Not because I was actually feeling good about anything, but rather the fact that I'd decided to take a shower and not care about keeping my dressings dry. Part of it was because I'd wanted a real shower for a long time. While I'd technically been keeping clean, there was something to be said for how much fresher one felt after a real shower. The other part, however, was because I was doing something that I knew would piss off my doctors.

  That was the thing about being angry, for me anyway. I wanted to lash out, make others as miserable as I was. I doubted my little rebellion would make anyone miserable, probably annoyed at best, but at least, I got a shower out of it.

  As I walked out of the bathroom, I thought about heading downstairs to get myself something to eat, but I hadn't gone more than two steps before realizing that I wasn't alone.

  I saw Father O'Toole first, and it was the expression of embarrassed horror on his face that made me realize he had someone standing next to him. For a second, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me because there was no way in hell that Nori Prinz was standing on the landing, staring at me.

  But then her eyes jerked up from where they'd been looking and it all hit me at once. She was really here...and I was standing in the middle of the hallway, stark naked, about to be scolded by a priest. Something inside me snapped.

  All of the anger and bitterness I'd felt from the moment I woke up in the hospital and realized what my life would never be again, all of it came pouring out of me. It was ugly and I knew neither of them deserved it, especially not Nori. I wasn't able to see her face when I said I didn't want her here, but I knew she was a kind, compassionate person, and my words probably hurt her.

  Then again, I reminded myself as I slammed my bedroom door shut behind me, she probably didn't care that much about what I thought. Father O'Toole said he'd brought her out to help, which meant he'd offered her a job. She'd seemed pretty set at the hospital, which meant the father would've had to offer her a lot to get her here. She was nice enough, but I was a job, nothing else. It was all I'd ever been to her.

  “Dammit!” I tossed my towel toward the pile of clothes that now completely covered my hamper.

  I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, then quickly looked away. Dealing with someone like me in a hospital was one thing. Everyone there was sick, injured, recovering, or dying. I was one of many. Here, even hidden from the outside world, I was the only one. I knew the neighbors were wondering about me, trying to figure out who in the world the priest had taken in this time.

  I didn't want the house, and I sure as hell didn't want a bunch of people lurking around, trying to pretend they weren't looking at the freak hiding upstairs. Even if they were told ahead of time what happened to me, it wasn't the same as seeing it.

  I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and pulled them on. It was hot outside – or at least, I assumed it was since it was June – but I found one of the zip-up hooded shirts I'd ordered online earlier this week. They'd arrived yesterday. I pulled it on, then reminded myself to turn up the air conditioning the next time I was downstairs.

  I'd known Father O'Toole wasn't going to let me live here alone. I had my physical therapist coming in a couple times a week, but that wasn't the same as having someone here all the time, keeping an eye on me. When he finally decided I wouldn’t off myself, then I'd finally get some peace. Until then, I’d just have to deal.

  And, apparently, that now meant Nori.

  I ran my hand through my wet hair and muttered, “Fuck.”

  What the hell was I supposed to do now? My pulse raced as I sat down on the edge of my bed. She was here, in this house. Right now. I assumed she was taking the third floor since that was set up similarly to this one and Father O'Toole had implied she'd be taking over all of the duties of the people who'd left.

  Having her right here, day and night...my stomach clenched.

  I needed her gone. If I was smart, I'd go upstairs right now and tell her not to bother unpacking. I'd tell Father O'Toole that I'd make nice with Hador, the replacement nurse who'd been coming in since I'd fired Aida if he'd stop trying to hire people to live here. I couldn't have her so close.

  Ever since I'd had that dream, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her, no matter how hard I tried. And I had tried. I was no saint when it came to fantasizing about women or masturbating while thinking about someone, but I didn't want to think that way about her. She'd been too good to me already.

  It was harder than I'd thought it'd be. I hadn't had much of a sex drive since the accident. Hell, that was a lie. Aside from that dream, I'd had absolutely no sex drive in the past three months. I'd tried watching porn, and even that wasn’t able to make my dick sit up and take interest. I couldn't get even a little hard anymore.

  Unless I was thinking about her.

  I closed my eyes and buried my head in my hands. I didn't know what to do.

  I wanted her to stay. In the hospital, she was the only person who'd been able to push back the darkness. I didn't know a lot about her, but I did know, if I'd met her under other circumstances, I would've asked her out by now.

  Which was why she had to go. If she stayed here, she'd spend her time trapped in here with me, and eventually come to hate me. She was probably pissed as hell right now, but I knew it wasn't the same thing. If she stayed though, I'd lose the last tenuous bit of a good thing that I had. Knowing that there was one person aside from the father who didn't see me as a monster...it was all I had.

  And I knew she'd see me that way if she stayed. Not just because of how I looked, but because she'd finally realize that I deserved everything that happened. Hell, I deserved worse.

  That thought had been circling in my mind for months, that voice in my head telling me that I didn't deserve anything real or good in my life. That who I was in the past hadn't been erased by the good I'd done since then. Father O'Toole had tried to convince me that I could have a new start in the army, and for a while he was right, but then it had caught up to me.

  I curled my hands into fists, wincing as it pulled the scar tissue on my hand. Their faces were in my head now, reminding me of how little I deserved anything good. I'd failed them. It didn't matter that I'd managed to save those strangers in the warehouse fire, or even the times I'd gotten my men out of harm's way. Anyone who died under my charge had been my fault. They had just been the first two casualties.

  I stood and began pacing the length of my room. Maybe I should get it over with, tell her a
ll about it and chase her away before I found myself wrapped up in her more than I should. Or, at least, more than I already was.

  I wondered what would she say if I told her about the times my father had beaten my mother and sister, and I hadn't been able to stop him? Or if I told her about how, after my father had finally left, I'd started drug running for a local dealer to make ends meet? Or how, after I'd been arrested twice by the time I was sixteen, I'd agreed to turn on my dealer, Martinez? Nori would probably say that was good, but the retaliation Martinez had inflicted had negated any good I'd done.

  He'd had my mother and sister tortured and killed, bodies left out where the paparazzi could get pictures of them, splash them all over every page so I couldn't miss them, even in juvie.

  And it had all been my fault.

  Some hero.

  Chapter Ten

  Nori

  The rooms Father O'Toole had set up on the third floor were impressive. After my disastrous reunion with X, the priest had taken me upstairs where he'd managed to convince me to still stay for at least the two weeks I'd promised. I didn't want to believe the father's fears about what X might do if I wasn't there, but I wasn't willing to take that risk.

  Once I assured Father O'Toole that I wasn't planning on getting back in my rental and driving back to the airport, he showed me around the place that would, for the near future, be my home.

  There was a full bath, as he'd promised, and much nicer than what I'd expected. Not really feminine, it also wasn't masculine, more of a nice in-between that matched well with the rest of the décor. While it had a door into the hallway, it also had an entrance into my bedroom so I didn't have to walk across the hall. With the memory of X emerging from the bathroom naked still fresh in my mind, I was grateful for that.

  All of the furniture was quality enough that I knew I didn't even want to ask how much they cost. The electronics were all brand-new and state-of-the-art, even though they weren't ostentatious. Like the television was a flat-screen, but it wasn't massive, and there was no theater-like surround sound. It was comfortable, but not decadent.