A/N: Almost 4k words, I honestly don't know how I whipped that out. This chapter was supposed to be just fluffy and cute Xavier and Simon interaction and then it went sidewards. I have no words, just that my stories always end in angst and idk how to stop. Anyways enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Chapter 33

Simon's POV

The pill bottles felt heavy in my hand. Chase had given me two, one for anxiety, and the other was the same suppressants Vince was taking, just at a much lower dose. He had assured me that I shouldn't feel pressured to take either, but I didn't even want them here with me. It felt wrong to have these, especially the suppressants. I had survived so long without them that I didn't feel it necessary to start now.

Staring at them now didn't change that. I felt like it would be cheating to start using the suppressants, the whole point was for Vince to get off of these. Why would I start using something that was so terrible in the first place? Even the anxiety pills seemed pointless. There were a plethora of side effects that it could cause, just so I could feel fine for a day? How was that supposed to help in the long run?

That and I didn't want to feel numb and empty. I didn't want to not feel. That was the last thing I wanted.

And as much as I wanted to flush it down the toilet, or throw it out, I couldn't do it. So I stuffed it under all my belongings in the suitcase, not wanting to see it again.

Vince probably thought I was strange for keeping my things in my bags still, but I didn't want to intrude his space. I was already pushing my luck by being here and by sleeping on his couch. But it was also a habit I picked up from living with Aspen and Cedar. Moving around often, or sleeping in small spaces, we needed to be ready to go at any moment. And being here felt the same way. There was no question that if Vince really didn't want me here, he wouldn't hesitate to kick me out again.

This morning, I thought he would have dragged me off his couch and shove me out the door, only to be startled when he picked up the blanket and placed it over me. I had been shaking like a leaf when he approached me, but I don't think he noticed I was actually awake, or he wouldn't have picked up the blanket. But I couldn't let my guard down, as far as kindness goes, that was probably just a spur of the moment, something his dazed and probably half-asleep mind did without really thinking. He probably forgot about it, so I didn't want to dare bring it up in case he got defensive and kicked me out.

Luckily, Xavier had shown up, a good distraction from whatever the hell Vince meant from his actions earlier. The look of relief on his face quickly replaced his worried features when he walked in. In large strides he made his way over to the couch, sitting sideways on the couch beside me.

"He didn't do anything, right?" He asked, the worry taking over his features again as he scanned me over.

I shook my head before replying, "he slept in the office."

"Oh."

"Really, I'm fine," I assured him after seeing his still worried face. "I can make breakfast if you haven't eaten yet."

He smiled slightly before replying, "yes, just jab at my inability to cook, why don't you."

He made a pouting face before ushering me out of the room. A few passing pack members gave us an inquisitive look as Xavier seemed to drag me down the hall, down the flights of stairs and into the kitchen area where a bunch of people was fiercely working to make vats of food.

Despite how much in a flurry they were, most of them immediately halted work and shouted greetings to Xavier who waved back with the same ferocity.

One of the older staff stepped forward, her apron covered in as much flour as Xavier had the other night. She extended her arms out to him, and despite all the flour, Xavier wasted no time and returned the hug. She looked me over curiously, before patting Xavier's back, the flour flying through the air.

They both let out a loud laugh when they pulled away, the flour coating the both of them now. Xavier gripped her hand before looking at me. "Oh, Loreta, I think we've found your match. Simon is just a beast in the kitchen."

"You're giving me too much credit," I muttered, feeling my cheeks get warmer. "I was used to doing the cooking when I was younger."

Before I could see it coming, Loreta extended her arms out to me, giving me a hug that rivaled the one Xavier received. When she finally let go, I could feel some of the flour falling onto my shoulders and the front of my shirt. She looked at me with a slight frown. "You've grown up well, Simon. Your father would be proud."

I froze, blinking a few times before replying, "my father?"

Her frown turned into a sad half-smile. "Oh, how could I forget sweet Clayton? He would always be first in line for food after a hunt, and would be the last to leave some nights, helping compile the dishes, or sweeping up the trash so we could go home early. And on some nights he'd proudly show all of us photos or videos of the little ones running around and all of your accomplishments."

My chest felt heavy, my breathing became labored as I remembered those nights dad would come home late. The pictures of us he kept on him at all times, the leftover food he'd sneak home for us when mom needed a break from cooking.

Loreta wrapped me in another hug, and soon Xavier joined in. We didn't care about the flour, or how Loreta probably should be helping with lunch. It just felt nice to be hugged like this, to get lost in the moment for a second, and forget everything around us.

We stayed like that for what felt like ten minutes before Loreta patted our backs as she pulled away. Xavier squeezed my shoulder before looking at her.

"Mind if we use the kitchen? Simon promised me a grand breakfast," he grinned at me.

"Sure thing, dear," Loreta rustled his hair, before gesturing over to one of the many stoves. "I'm just prepping dinner over there. Feel free to use any of the other stoves."

She headed over to the other kitchen staff as we mulled over what to make. It was already past breakfast time, it was more brunch than anything. "What about grilled cheese? Easy enough?"

"I don't know, I'd probably burn it," he said.

"You'll be fine," I assured him, pulling out the fancy cheeses I found in the middle drawer. Some of which I had only seen at the store maybe once or twice. I was so used to that cheap processed cheese we'd buy for Cedar's sandwiches, that I was excited to try the fancy muenster and provolone slices from a deli and not a package.

I demonstrated to Xavier how to butter both sides of the bread, adding in some garlic powder I found lying around. He watched with a concentrated stare as I waited for the pan to heat up before placing it on. He seemed in awe at how I flipped them, the perfectly golden and crisp side turning out like a picture from a magazine as I waited for the other side to crisp.

"I'll never get used to that," he whispered before laughing to himself. "I really am pathetic when it comes to the kitchen."

I smiled, glancing at him before responding. "You'll get the hang of it eventually. It just takes practice."

"And less burning the kitchen down," he added. I transferred the grilled cheese to a plate before handing him the spatula.

"Here," I told him. "Your turn."

A brief moment of panic flashed across his face before he turned serious, gripping the spatula tightly as I placed the next sandwich on the pan, the slight sizzle scaring him. I watched as he stared intently, watching the cheese slowly melt before looking at me. "Now what?"

"Just wait a little longer, I'll tell you when to flip."

He frowned. "But how? Do I just flip quickly, or slowly? What if it folds in half?"

"Just be patient," I patted his shoulder. "Now gently, shimmy the spatula under the bread."

"Shimmy?" He questioned. I gestured to the sandwich, as he slowly got most of the spatula under the bread. "Ok, ok, I did it!"

"You still gotta flip it."

"Right, now what?" He looked at me with wide eyes.

I grabbed another spatula from the rack, motioning how to flip the sandwich quickly. He nodded, but still unsure of himself. It took him a second, but he bobbed the spatula up and down before swiftly trying to flip it over. Only for the top bread to slide halfway off, one of the cheese slices slowly falling over the edge. He let out a weird distressed sound, almost like a scared cat.

"No, no, no. I was so close."

"It's alright," I told him. "Here, I'll fix-wait don't-"

"Ah, shit!"

I gripped Xavier's arm too late, as he tried to grab the fallen cheese and bread, only to burn his hand on the pan. He flinched away, almost knocking the pan to the floor, but I caught the handle in time, managing to save the sandwich, putting on a cold burner while I turned to Xavier. I dragged him over to the sink to run cold water over it before digging through a freezer for something colder. I was aware that it'd probably heal on its own, but my instincts to help him anyways kicked in, grabbing the things I needed like it was second nature.

I handed him the frozen peas, letting him sit at the kitchen counter as I grabbed the sandwich that had burned on one side. With one look at it, he pouted. "Even with your supervision, I still managed to burn something."

"Two somethings," I pointed at his hand, chuckling as he rolled his eyes.

He placed his hand, palm up as he sighed. "Ya, go ahead. Make fun. Haha. At least your hand isn't stinging."

"Is it that bad?" I tilted my head, before reaching for his hand. "Can I see?"

He hummed, flinching as I pulled the frozen peas off of his hand. It was bright red, but it didn't seem terrible. I've experienced worse from cooking before, but two of his fingertips looked like it would end up blistering. "Wait here, I'll go look for ointment."

I looked around the room, trying to find a first aid kit with no luck. Eventually one of the kitchen staff noticed, pointing toward the bathroom. I came back, watching as Xavier nibbled on his grilled cheese before looking relieved to see the ointment.

As I took his wrist in mine, he mumbled, "you know, it'll heal in a couple of days, right?"

"Just give me your hand." I frowned, but before I could start to put the first dab of ointment, I couldn't help but notice the raised scar near his vein on his wrist. It wasn't as scraggy as the three on mine, in fact, it looked perfectly straight, parallel to his vein. He seemed to notice my hesitation, then jerking his hand away when he seemed to realize what I had seen.

Glancing at his uneasy look, it quickly turned into a half-hearted smile. He quickly raised his hand and showed me the tips of his finger. "See, all better. Doesn't even hurt."

I blinked, still trying to reel in what I saw. I didn't want to assume that it had been something of that sort. But the way he jerked away seemed to say otherwise. But I also know what it felt like to have something like that exposed. So I played along and said nothing. Better to change the subject as well.

"If you say so," I returned his half-smile, before opening up the fridge for some ketchup. He watched me carefully as I squirted some out on the plate, then dipped the grilled cheese in. He looked at me funny. "What?"

"What are you doing?"

"It's the best way to eat grilled cheese," I said matter-of-factly.

He scoffed. "That's new. Never seen anyone do that."

"Well most people dip it in tomato soup," I informed, before dipping it in ketchup again and gesturing it to him. "But ketchup is made from tomatoes too, so I don't see why that's gross. And I think it's cheaper. Can't use tomato soup for fries or burgers, so ketchup is multi-purpose."

"That's so weird," he frowned. He stared at the pile of ketchup before tentatively dipping in it as well. He sent me a weird look before slowly biting into it. A few seconds went by before his face went blank, then made a face of approval. "Not bad."

"Right?"

He dipped another part into it, letting the taste linger again before going, "you know what? I'm on board. And less mess, you don't have to take the soup out of a can or whatever and put it in a special bowl just to dip it."

"See?"

He laughed a little, like the burn hadn't happened, and neither did his scar, and it sent a warm feeling to my chest. He grabbed the bottle of ketchup and squeezed a generous portion on his plate before raising the bottle like a toast. "You really are a genius in the kitchen, Simon."

"Oh, stop," I joked. "That'll hurt Loreta's feelings."

----

I put Xavier in charge of drying and putting the dishes away, partly because the kitchen was so large that I was going to be lost trying to find where things were supposed to go. Maybe it was weird, but I actually enjoyed washing dishes. It had been the perfect time to day dream, or to just mindlessly stare out the window and take in the sights. I had enjoyed it growing up, watching the younger siblings play outside with their friends in the yard. And when Nicole had helped me dry the dishes, it was our time to tell each other about our day, uncensored, and away from all the kids. We could tell our dirty little secrets, or just tell little rumors about what our neighbors were doing and whatnot.

Being with Xavier like this, felt exactly the same. Even though Loreta and her staff were around the corner, I felt like we could really just tell each other anything. Of course, I didn't ever want to bring up that scar, but there were things that I don't think I could've asked anyone else.

Being away from here for sixteen years left a big empty hole of information that I was clueless about.

"Hey, Xavier?" I asked. He set the cups back into the cupboard, before turning to me. "What was it like growing up?"

He hummed. "Honestly, we were spoiled. Stereotypical, I know, but Loreta always cooked for us. We didn't have to clean or anything. And dad was...well dad. He was that scary alpha that everyone sort-of feared. He was tough on us, especially the training and schooling, but he was good to us..."

"Well, most of the time." He grabbed another dish. "Over time he got stricter, especially around the time Michael met David."

"Wasn't that difficult?"

"Mmm, not really." He leaned against the counter. "I guess I knew that because dad was the alpha, that he had to be strict on us. He had to raise the future alpha, so he was especially tough on Michael, and then after that fall-out, he was tough on Vince. Maybe I'm lucky I had been the youngest, so dad didn't really bother to be strict on me since he figured those two would've been in charge."

"Would you ever want to?"

"Be alpha?" He scoffed. "No. It's really stressful. And if I can't even make grilled cheese, I doubt I could run this pack. That and a lot of people tell me I'm not at all intimidating enough. I really took after mom, I even got her height."

Xavier wasn't that short, but I guess I could see why they wouldn't call him intimidating. He was approachable, friendly, even when he tried to glare it didn't seem at all threatening.

Now that I thought about it, I hadn't seen their mother in the past sixteen years, even through the visions. I know she didn't take their dad's death well, but if that wasn't even her mate, where did that leave her. "Is your mom..."

I let my words falter, wondering if it was even appropriate to ask. He tilted his head before mouthing oh. "She's not in the best of shape, but she's alive."

"Oh, that's...good."

He nodded. "She has a hard time speaking, and practically bedridden, but they can get her to sit up for a few minutes."

My heart deflated. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

"No, it's okay. She always took dad's death badly. And now that we know her true mate also died way before dad, it's actually a miracle she's held on for this long. I try to visit her every day, and her mind's still there, so her caretakers and Chase say that she's doing extremely well."

I gulped. Despite Xavier's reaction, I couldn't imagine how painful it would be to see my mother or even father like that. But I guess for him, it was enough to see his mother alive. As for me, even if my parents were in her state, that would be enough too, I guess.

I picked up some dishes to dry and help pass to Xavier as he put them away. "I'm happy she's doing well."

"Me too," he smiled. A brief moment of silence passed through, the only sound was Loreta's dinner bubbling away. I picked up one of the large porcelain serving dishes, drying it in circular motions.

Xavier in a soft voice said, "I think a part of me believes she may be holding on until I find my mate."

Not even a millisecond went by as the porcelain dish slipped out of my hand, crashing to the floor so loudly, the whole kitchen staff stepped in to see what the sound was. A million white tiny shards flew out everywhere, dispersing itself, as a cloud of flour that had been on the ground puffed into the air.

I could hear the staff shout words of concern, but Xavier's words had repeated in my head, silencing all their worries. I felt sick. The commotion around us happened in slow motion as the staff went to grab their brooms and plastic bags, while all I could see was Xavier's face drop. He was worried, a bit of fear in his eyes as he reached out to touch my shoulders. Had it been five minutes ago, I would've welcomed it without a second thought, but now all I wanted was to jerk away as fast as he had when I saw his scar. No, I wanted more than to jerk away, I wanted to run out, hide, crawl into a hole, maybe all at once.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

I wanted so desperately to shout it to him.

But none of it would change the fact that it was my fault that he wouldn't have his mate. And then he would think his mother would die too soon, not be able to hold on long enough for someone who had died sixteen years ago. And then that scar. Was I the reason for it? Because of Nicole, was I responsible for him feeling that hurt and alone that he resorted to that.

What would he think of me if he knew? Would he scorn me? Hate me? Kick me out like his brother?

All the possible scenarios played over and over in my head, that I hadn't realized I had fallen to my knees, the sharp stings of the broken pieces digging into my skin.

Xavier was shaking my shoulders, calling my name, but it sounded so muffled. "-mon. Simon!"

I looked up, his features distorted in worry like when he found me in the bathroom of the bar. The nausea was building in my stomach, I needed to distract myself.

I looked at the mess, both the physical and metaphorical one I was surrounded by, and suddenly I found my voice.

"I'm sorry," I told him, trying to brush the shards into a pile to clean it up. "I'm so sorry."

"Simon, stop." He tried grabbing my wrist, but I turned to pick up some more, not even caring that I was getting tiny cuts on my hand. "Simon!"

He ripped my hands away from the shards, looking at me intently. I almost wanted to laugh at the fact that at that moment he did look quite intimidating. "Stop! You're hurting yourself."

Now that almost made me chuckle. You hypocrite, I wanted to tell him.

Even as he dragged me over to a chair to sit on, letting the staff clean up my mess, I couldn't help but feel terrible. The stings in my knees and hands were only a fraction of what I was feeling internally in my head. It wasn't enough of a distraction.

But then I felt warm again. He was hugging me. And then soon, Loreta had walked over and scooped us up into a hug as well. It was calming my racing heart down, the scenarios in my head slowly disappearing until I could see clearly, think thoroughly.

I had so many things I wanted to say, but all I could muster out was, "sorry."

"Don't be, hun," Loreta caressed my hand with one hand, her other hand rubbing up and down my back in a soothing pattern. "Broken plates are a common thing here. No need to beat yourself up over it. We've got a boatload of plates."

I could sense Xavier's questioning gaze at me, but I tried to pretend that I hadn't just spiraled myself into that mess yet again. Loreta fretted over some of my minor injuries but I assured her they'd heal just fine.

After cleaning my wounds, Xavier and I helped clean up the mess, letting the kitchen staff do their normal duties. He didn't say anything, but I could sense he knew it was more than just me dropping the plate. But I wasn't ready for him to know, I don't think I could handle whatever reaction he had.

We had just about finished sweeping the remaining flour on the floor, grabbing the mop to get any other residue from the floors, when the backdoor opened, and a sweet scent filled the air.

I stiffened, and Xavier followed when he noticed I had stopped mopping. Vince walked in, his eyes narrowing as he looked at us incredulously with mops in our hands.

He stared between us before smirking. "You do realize we have maids for cleaning."

Xavier huffed angrily before setting the mop down to approach him. Goddess, I didn't need this right now. It's only been a few days and so many things were already going sideways.