Finding Eden(24)

I told Xander everything I'd been through since we got in Clive's police cruiser that fateful day. Xander got up and hugged me several times and my mom fluttered in and out of the room worriedly. Molly pulled her out again a few times, but I shook my head to let her know it was okay. I could see how much she needed to feel useful to me, in even the smallest of ways, and perhaps she needed to hear this as well.

Xander told me that he and Calder had been doing construction work, mostly—anything where they could get paid under the table. They'd both gotten good at it and so far hadn't been between jobs for long. It paid their bills. And I had to admit that a fierce pride flowed through me as I listened to how they'd survived.

"I worked and supported us for the first year," Xander said, his eyes darting to mine and then away. "Calder, he . . . he didn't do much other than lie around with this blank expression on his face." He ran his hand through his hair. It was a little longer now, too, and it suited him. He was quiet for a minute, seeming to be lost in the recent past. "I thought he was in shock, you know, and obviously grieving profoundly. I was, too," he said quietly, letting out a harsh exhale. "After his wounds were healed, I did what I could for him, which at the time wasn't much more than keeping him fed and hydrated." He paused again, so long I thought he wouldn't continue. Pain pulsed through me, and a lump formed in my throat, but I held the tears at bay. I felt like I'd already cried a river.

"One day, I came home from work and he wasn't there." He shook his head slightly. "I looked everywhere and all I found was a receipt for a bottle of whiskey that he'd gone to the store and bought, trying to self-medicate, I guessed. I finally found him up on the roof, at the very edge, swaying and crying." Grief flooded Xander's expression. "I talked him down, dragged him back inside, got him settled down. A few more minutes though, Eden, and . . ." He trailed off and I reached out and put my hand on his knee, gripping it. "If he hadn't jumped, he would have fallen."

"I know that pain," I said. "I know. Thank God you were there."

Xander studied me for a minute and then nodded. "He should be the one here right now," he said.

I shook my head. "No. I hated leaving him, but after everything, I'd never forgive myself if he didn't have this opportunity again. His art. His destiny," I finished on a whisper.

Xander pressed his lips together. "It saved him once, you know." He looked off over my shoulder again. "After that day on the roof, I didn't know what else to do. I went to an art supply store and spent money we didn't really have to buy every supply I could think of. I brought them home and he didn't seem interested, but the next day I came home and he'd painted something. I recognized it as part of that spring where you two always met."

Tears filled my eyes this time. I couldn't help it.

Xander sighed. "Each day I came home, he'd painted a little bit more. After a while, it was all he did. You. Over and over and over. It was like it was the one thing that brought you back to him, at least in some way."

But he never painted my face, I thought, wondering why. Had he been unable to?

Xander took in a deep breath. "I'm the one who encouraged him to take an art class at the community college. The teacher there saw his talent and called her friend, Madison, who owns the gallery he's at tonight." Xander looked at me guiltily. "She was very obviously interested in him, right from the beginning. I mean, more than just his art. I encouraged it, Eden. I encouraged him to try to find some happiness with her. I encouraged him to give Madison a chance. Truth be told, I practically pushed him to it." He grimaced and looked down.

"You couldn't have known," I said softly, my heart hurting. "You're his friend. You love him. You were only trying to help him move forward." Tonight had been his opening night at Madison's gallery. If I was doing the math correctly, did that mean they'd been together a few months? Half a year? I didn't ask Xander. I didn't think I wanted to know.

Xander scrubbed a hand down his face. "Yeah. And now? God, this is all so incredibly unbelievable."

I laughed softly and raised my teacup in the air, furrowing my brow at the ridiculousness and tragedy of it all. If I didn't laugh, I was going to cry more tears I didn't think I had.

"Calder, he's . . . the same, but he's different. It's like he's been so damned destructive recently. He bought himself this beat-up motorcycle and he drives it without a helmet, too fast. He volunteers to do the roofing on our job sites, not because he enjoys it, but because it's the most dangerous part." He brought his eyes to mine. "It's almost like he doesn't actually want to take his own life, but he doesn't fear death either. He tempts fate at every turn by taking these crazy risks." He let out a deep breath and I could see how much it affected him. I couldn't blame him. Calder was all he had.