Special Bonus Scene: Xander Crisis at Home (Patreon)

"2000 PATRON" SPECIAL BONUS SCENE: thankyouthankyouthankyou 💕 Everyday we wake up extremely grateful for all your love and support here on Patreon. This has been a whirlwind the last 4 1/2 years here, and we really wouldn't trade it for the world. All of you have brought us so much joy, and writing this series and these families wouldn't be the same without you. We know we say it often, but we truly mean it when we tell you we would have probably had to stop writing full-time without Patreon. It's brought us the best kind of stability and even more importantly, the best kind of inspiration and happiness. So from the bottom of our hearts (yes, we continue to be sappy maple trees!), thankyouthankyouthankyou. We adore all of you from here to Planet Thebula! Thank you for being a part of this huge milestone and epic journey 🥰🥰  

What you voted on & picked for the Special Bonus topic:

LILY, LOREN POV: when Xander locks himself in the bathroom in Lovers Like Us and he calls his parents on the phone awards + the aftermath when Lily & Lo arrive home to Kinney and Xander

IMPORTANT: Please do not screenshot and post any part of this bonus scene to other sites or share with non-patrons. All of the Patreon content is exclusive to Patreon and for current patron's eyes only. Thank you!! xoxo Krista & Becca

RESOURCES:  Check out this narrative timeline graphic to visually see when this bonus scene takes place.

MUSIC: we listened to "Vitamin T" by KERA, "Land of the Living" by Matthew Perryman Jones, and "Tomorrow" by Miner while writing this bonus scene.

NOTE: If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health or suicidal ideations, there are ways to get help: 

998 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline 

Call or text 988; Llame al 988 (para ayuda en español)

Use Lifeline Chat on the web

The Lifeline provides 24-hour, confidential support to anyone in suicidal crisis or emotional distress. Call or text 988 to connect with a trained crisis counselor.

Crisis Text Line - Text “HELLO” to 741741

The Crisis Text hotline is available 24 hours a day, seven days a week throughout the U.S. The Crisis Text Line serves anyone, in any type of crisis, connecting them with a crisis counselor who can provide support and information.

I BOLT UPRIGHT from a nap—one I didn’t mean to take! “Lo, Lo.” I nudge him awake and pat the comforter and decorative pillows for my phone.

“Mmhh?” He rubs at his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Late. We fell asleep. Icantbelievewefellasleep,” I slur together in a rush and throw myself out of bed after I find my phone. My heart is racing, wondering if I missed a text from Luna or Moffy.

Nothing.

“No news,” I tell him, trying to calm down. Our daughter missed her plane to come home. She’s stuck in L.A. with Moffy and my nieces and nephews who are on the FanCon tour. Along with their bodyguards. We’ve been trying to make sure she gets on a flight to Philly, and we were just lightly resting our eyes and then bam! Two hours must’ve passed.

And really, we haven’t slept all that well since Luna snuck out and met up with the tour bus. It happened right before Christmas. I just want her to come home safely.

Is that too much to ask?

“I think they’re still stuck in the hotel,” I tell him.

Lo checks his phone. “Yeah.” He must see the time because he hurries to the closet. We have somewhere to be tonight, and unfortunately, we couldn’t cancel.

I join Lo in the walk-in closet and scrounge around for anything clean, trying not to freak out about the time now. “Why didn’t we set an alarm?” I mutter to myself.

Forgetfulness.

A lack of planning.

“We didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he reminds me.

True.

I’m rushing to find anything worth wearing out. We both shed our “lounging around the house” clothes. Lo is on his side of the closet and searching through a drawer of boxer-briefs. He’s naked.

A hot naked.

There is no such thing as an ugly naked. Not with Lo—my best friend, my husband, the one I can’t live without. There’s never been a single year, month, or week where he hasn’t looked truly sexy. I could pounce from behind and in front and on top.

But we’re running late.

He must sense my panic. “We have time, love,” Lo says.

I know he’s not talking about time for sex. He’s moving quickly, deserting the underwear drawer and picking a black button-down off a hanger.

I take a few more peeks at his ass and back muscles. Heat flushes my cheeks, and I make the umpteenth observation that Lo is somehow hotter in his older age.

I wonder if it’s his self-confidence that’s grown over the years. It’s fed into his attractiveness. Like an elixir of life. Which would make sense, considering Connor Cobalt is still the most confident person I know and he’s practically immortal—but I do not find him attractive.

Nope.

Quadruple nope!

So maybe that’s a dumb notion. One I’m not speaking out loud.

“Laundry day is tomorrow,” I say to eliminate the flush against my cheeks and the anxiety about the time. I keep searching for a clean pair of nice pants. Leggings are all dirty anyway. “If I was a better planner like my sister, then I would’ve planned out my outfits for the week.”

Lo kicks out his nicest pair of loafers. “The kind of people who plan what they’re wearing every day, Lil, are the same ones who’ve never experienced the great joys of passing out in last night’s clothes.”

I assume he’s saying those people aren’t us.

They’ve never been us.

Rose is someone who’d remember to wipe off her makeup at 4 a.m. after a night drinking. I’m the one who’d wake up in crusty mascara and with a dry mouth, desperate for water and an Advil. Though, those late nights at bars are more distant memories.

I prefer staying in with Lo. And if I do go out with my sisters, it’s not usually to a club or a bar.

“We haven’t done that in a long time,” I remind him while I toss aside dirty pants after dirty pants. I sniff-check them. “You, especially.” He’s been sober for as long as our kids have been alive.

He puts a hand to his chest. “And I’m happy that I’m an unorganized peon while your sister is on her pristine throne.” He picks out a pair of boxer-briefs. “You should be, too.”

We’ve always been in the same boat—me and Lo. Even when it was sinking at the height of our addictions and we needed to abandon ship in order to save ourselves, we struggled to leave one another. But so many years later, our boat is patched up and we’ve made it. We’re still afloat.

Still together.

I would choose to be with him because my heart is his and his heart is mine, and I can’t fathom a universe without him. “Why can’t we be the kinds of people who take a seat on a throne?” I ask him. “You and me, Lo.”

“You and me, Lil,” he says, casting a glance back at me—his eyes only touching my eyes. “We don’t take pictures of our outfits like they’re our children. If you started doing that, I’d be asking Queen Rose what she did with my wife and she better return my Lily to me.”

His Lily.

I’m smiling imagining Rose taking photos of her outfits, too. I know that kind of planner has never been in me. No version. Not Lily 1.0 or Lily 4.5—and Lo has always loved every renewed version of me.

I have seen Rose photograph her Monday outfit to Sunday outfit for trips to the lake house.

The lake house isn’t a fashion capital. It’s not Paris.

No one is going to look at you sideways for wearing leggings and a baggy tee with strange stains. (Except, Rose might actually look at me sideways if there are stains.) Which just means that Rose only plans ahead and wants to be fashionable for herself.

Commendable.

Tonight, I need to be fashionable for other people because it’s not socially acceptable to be comfy for oneself at fashionable events.

And I prefer being comfy.

“I can’t find any clean pants,” I say while I quicken my pace and toss aside more leggings.

“Check the shelves where you stack your shorts.”

I do, and I find the most unloved pants shoved in the very back of a shelf. “Thankyouthankyou,” I say in haste. They’re these gray dress slacks that itch at the thighs. They’re nice, though. So I jump into them as fast as I can, and I run my fingers through my messy hair.

Lo slides the band of his red boxer-briefs to his hips. I watch him for a long beat. Partly, I hope he takes another peek at me. Just a small one, so he sees my nipples and maybe flirts back before I put on a bra. And then we’ll…

And then nothing. We can’t be late.

Especially because of a quickie.

We’re supposed to be on our way to this charity fundraiser for children in New York, and it’s sponsored by Halway Comics. To the point where we’re both supposed to make a toast to kickstart the event.

I hate public speeches, no matter how many times I do them, but I think I’ve done a good job trouncing the anxiety surrounding this one.

It’ll be a short toast.

Two sentences thanking everyone for coming. Lo plans to say a bit more. He’s really used to giving speeches to corporate types, so he seems calm about it.

I wrangle a bra out of the dirty laundry basket, and Lo glances over at me while he’s slipping his arms through his black button-down.

My breath hitches as his gaze drops to my perked nipples. Just as I spot the ignition of desire in his amber eyes, he whirls around to his shelves. He lets out an aching kind of breath. “Sorry, Lil. I didn’t mean to make this harder for you.”

“I was already turned on,” I say quietly, my face flaming. “You’re hot, Lo.”

I catch sight of rising smile. “You’re hotter, Lily Hale.”

I’m grinning while I snap on my bra.

He checks the time on his phone. “Christ, we actually are running late. We need to be out of here in five.”

I slip on a black silky blouse even faster. “Just so it’s clear, I know we don’t have time for a quickie, and I don’t want it anyway.” There is nothing truer. I’d regret it if we did.

Lo smiles over at me, not a dry one or a half-one. It’s a smile of decades of love, and as he passes me to leave the closet, I expect a kiss of love.

He cups my cheek and dips his head down—only to stick his tongue in my ear.

“Lo!” I shove him.

He laughs. “Lil.” He drapes his arms over my shoulders, and he walks me out of the closet with a loving haste.

We go into super-speed putting on socks, grabbing our wallets, and then we’re in the hallway. “We probably have three solid minutes,” I say encouragingly, slipping on the strap of my crossbody purse. “We say goodbye to our kids, then we’re in the car. Bruno is driving? He’s a fast driver. We’ll make it.” I nod to myself.

“See, you’re the best planner, love,” Lo cups my hand and kisses my knuckles.

I’m all smiles. “Good enough for a messy throne.”

“Queen of Messy,” Lo scrunches his face like it doesn’t fit. “I think you could dethrone your sister—”

“No,” I cut in. “I don’t want to.”

“And that is why you’re a ‘puff and I’m a…” He trails off as his phone rings. We’re almost to Xander’s room. He digs the phone out of his pocket. “Shit,” he curses at his cell. Our hands fully separate.

Our limbs sadly detach.

It’s his assistant.

He cringes. “I have to take this…Jesus, he keeps texting about something with The Fourth Degree toys.”

Those toys are supposed to be at the charity event tonight.

“I’ll check on Xander and Kinney and then meet you at the car,” I tell him.

Lo nods tensely. He’s already rushing down the hallway. “Three minutes, Lil.”

“Three minutes,” I nod.

Quickly, I knock on my son’s ajar door. “Xander?” I call out.

“Yeah?” His voice is quiet.

Pushing the door further open, it squeaks, and I peek my head inside. Not wanting to barge all the way in. He’s fifteen—and I know we have a “don’t lock the door” rule for him—but I still want to give Xander as much privacy as possible.

He’s lying on the floor, A Clash of Kings hardback on his chest. The book is closed, so he’s not reading the fantasy novel. Sitting up to look at me, Xander tugs down his bulky headphones to his neck.

I try not to make a show of eyeing the untidy state of his room. Dirty clothes are strewn everywhere, piled on his four-poster bed and even slung on the life-sized knight.

Like mother, like son.

A tinge of guilt rises thinking Xander has inherited my messy habits.

“Your dad and I are leaving for that charity event in New York.”

“I remember you mentioning that.” He still speaks hushed. His eyes seem sort of reddened, and he drops his gaze to the floor.

My stomach knots with a strange unease. “We’ll be back late. I made a broccoli hamburger casserole. It’s in the fridge. Will you pop it in the oven for you and Kinney? I left the directions on the counter.”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I can do that…” He fumbles with his phone, maybe to make a note of it, and his breathing shortens.

I want to step further inside. “Are you feeling okay?”

He just nods. Doesn’t look at me. His nose flares a little bit, and I can tell something is off.

“I have a few minutes,” I open the door wider, coming in and collecting some of his clothes off the bed. I’m about to take them to his hamper.

“Mom, don’t—please.” His voice cracks a little. “I’m fine. I just…” He stands slowly off the floor like his body weighs a million pounds. “I’m fine.”

He’s much taller than me—my fifteen-year-old. But he leans on the bedpost like he’s exhausted, and I whisper, “Fine isn’t a good word.”

“It’s not a bad word,” he refutes softly, his shaggy hair hanging in his eyes. “Please, just go. I don’t want to make you and Dad late.”

“You’re not going to make us late.” I’m choosing to be late.

He gathers the clothes out of my hands. “Really, I’m…alright.”

Why are his eyes red then? Why does he seem so sad? My heart pangs. “You can talk to me…I’m not rushing out.”

Xander tosses the clothes back on the heap on his bed. He’s quiet until he asks, “What’s going to happen to Banks?”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“He looks just like Thatcher, Mom. What’s going to happen to him if he’s all over the internet because he looks like Thatcher? Our bodyguards can’t be famous, right?” He avoids my gaze, seemingly overwhelmed. He threads his hands on the back of his head, his nose flares again. “And who even leaked the video from the tour bus? It was only sent to family and security.”

Which means someone in the inner-circle leaked it, or possibly, it was just an accident. But I remember my sister’s text.

There’s a rat among us  🔪 🔪  – Rose

I’m not as worried about this as much as I’m realizing Xander might be, and I should’ve had a talk with him earlier. Lo and I have just been so preoccupied with trying to make sure Luna gets back to Philly that we haven’t had a sit-down conversation with Xander and Kinney about the video leak yet.

“Our security is on top of it,” I remind him. “They’re doing a great job.”

“But my bodyguard…”

“Banks should be fine,” I reassure.

“Fine,” he says painfully. “Fine isn’t a good word, Mom.”

It strikes me through the heart, and he grimaces at himself, more upset, and he swerves away from me.

“No, Xander, it’s okay.”

“Please, just go.” I barely catch him muttering, “I’m screwing up your night…” He exhales heavily. My phone buzzes. Lo is texting me, but I don’t check the messages.

“I don’t really even want to go,” I tell him. “I’d much rather stay here and talk to you…”

He’s shaking his head repeatedly. “I’d feel worse if you did.” He’s not letting me look at his face. “That’s the truth.”

He’d feel worse if I stayed.

It hurts to hear, but he might just be pushing me away on purpose.

I hesitate another second or two. “When I get back, we’re talking about it, okay? It’s not so doomy and gloomy. I know it’ll all work out.”

He nods stiffly.

“Do you want me to call a bodyguard to stay the night?” I wonder. “Banks?”

“No, I’m fin—okay. I’m okay.” He does turn to face me, his amber eyes lifting to mine. That’s good. He does seem better. “Broccoli casserole is in the fridge?”

I smile and nod. “Directions—”

“On the counter,” he finishes, taking a deeper breath. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.” He holds my gaze for longer than before.

“I love you, too. You’re my Christmas baby.” I reach up to touch his cheek, but my phone buzzes and saves him from a motherly embrace.

He forces a tense smile. “I’m no Jesus.”

Now it’s ringing. “You’re a Christmas miracle—you can’t deny that. Sorry, I have to take this. I don’t want your dad to worry.” I answer, “Lo?”

Xander nods to me goodbye, pulling his headphones back on his ears and grabbing his fantasy novel off the floor.

I wave bye to him and gently shut his door.

“I’m not trying to clock you or anything, love, but we’re definitely going to be late if you don’t hurry.”

“Xander seemed sad.”

“Is he okay?” Lo sounds ten-times more serious.

“I think so.” I frown back at his door. “It’s just the bodyguard video leak. I told him we’ll talk when I get back.”

“We don’t have to stay at the event that long. We’ll leave early,” Lo suggests.

“I like this plan.” I smile and then hurry to Kinney’s room. “I have to say goodbye to Kinney. I’ll be a couple more minutes.”

“Christ, my assistant is calling again.” With this, we hang up, and I know Lo would rather be here than dealing with mishaps surrounding tonight’s event.

I knock on Kinney’s door.

“I gotta go. Yeah. Tomorrow, sure.” I hear my thirteen-year-old talk to someone as I turn the knob.

I peek inside her bedroom.

She’s at her vanity and applying dark mascara.

“Who was that?” I wonder, seeing the phone turned off on her vanity.

“Audrey. Are you going to that thing in New York?”

“Yep. Your dad and I will be back later. Broccoli hamburger casserole is in the fridge. Xander is going to pop it in the oven for dinner.”

“Cool,” she says with wide eyes as she applies thick mascara to her real lashes.

I’m not so strict on Kinney wearing makeup. Not as much as Lo can be. “Don’t forget to feed Gotham later.”

“I won’t.”

“Love you—”

“Wait,” she calls before I go and screws the mascara tube shut. “Is Farrow getting fired?”

My brows bunch in surprise. “You’re worried about Farrow?”

He’s dating Maximoff in private. It’s new, and I’m still a little hurt by Farrow lying to me. That hurt lies beneath how much I do love him as a person and how much I love him with my son.

“I’m not that worried.” Kinney tries to play it off with a big eye-roll, but it’s cute that she’s concerned about her big brother’s new (and first ever) boyfriend.

I’m hoping they last.

I really, really am.

Kinney explains, “Audrey said that Tom said that all Omega bodyguards have to be fired, including Farrow. They can’t be famous. And aren’t they famous now?”

This again.

The video leak.

It’s the reason Luna is stuck in L.A.

SFO bodyguards made this “Hot Santa Underwear Contest” video on the tour bus, which was texted to family and security chats. Somehow, it ended up online, and news coverage of the viral video caused a lot of mayhem in L.A., which has trapped everyone on the FanCon in a hotel.

It’s been a domino effect.

Will Farrow be fired?

“That’s something the security team has to decide,” I tell her. “But I’m guessing they’ll figure it out and everything will be okay.”

“Tom doesn’t think so.”

“Well, I think so, and I’m older than Tom. And wiser.” I nod.

Her lips rise. “I wasn’t worried about it.” She opens a palette of dark eye shadow and faces her vanity mirror.

Kinney’s reaction to the viral video couldn’t be more different from Xander’s, and I hate wishing that he had a bit of her exterior armor. Because I am more like him.

And I don’t want to change so much of my son.

Once I’m out the door, I practically race downstairs and leave down the driveway. I climb into the backseat of security’s SUV—Lo is beside me and on the phone. He lets out an irritated sigh at whoever is on the other line.

“I don’t know…I don’t know. Someone has to have the contact info of the delivery service…if it says it already delivered, then call the hotel venue. Get anyone on the line, man. Tell them it’s imperative. Threaten their jobs—yeah, you can do that…okay, it might not be true, but they don’t fucking know you can’t axe them.”

Lo’s bodyguard, Bruno, already pulls the car onto the road, and my bodyguard is in the passenger seat beside him. I glance back at our home, the warm lights glowing through the shut blinds. I hope they like the casserole.

I put extra cheese in it for Xander. Just how he likes it.

I sniff under my armpit. Oh my God, I forgot deodorant. I waft the blouse, hoping I don’t stink at the charity event, but the nervous sweat has already begun.

Toasts, I still hate them.

At least the kind of toast you can’t eat.

Lo gets off the phone halfway to Manhattan. “They can’t find half of the toys that are supposed to be signed tonight by the cast of The Fourth Degree films.”

Which are then supposed to be given to children’s hospitals.

I wince. “Oh no.”

“Oh no is right,” he sighs and shakes his head. “It says they delivered.” He scrolls through his contact list. “I’m going to call the venue. My assistant is too nice to try to be mean.” He flashes me a smile. “Reminds me of someone I know. Only he’s ugly.”

“Lo,” I say. “That’s mean.”

“Someone has to be mean, Lil. I’ve never gotten anything done in this stupid business being nice.”

“That’s sad. And mean.”

“You’re telling me,” he says, his voice naturally biting, and he puts the phone to his ear.

I scoot closer to him, and his arm instinctively wraps around my shoulders. On the rest of the way, I’m texting my oldest two kids.

Yeah, we’re still stuck in the hotel – Moffy

I ask them if they’ve eaten anything.

Sorta – Luna

Don’t worry about us. We’ll be okay – Moffy

I want to tell him it’s my job to worry. I’m his mom. I’m going to be concerned about all of my kids, no matter where they are in this world or how old they are.

Rain begins to beat down on the car. Thunder booms in the distance, and in a few minutes, flashes of light glare against the panes of our SUV. Only, I’m sure this isn’t lightning. 

The flashes are too familiar and too consistent to be bolts of light from the stormy sky. We’re on the freeway. Bruno and my bodyguard are more rigid and alert in the front seats.

Maybe partially because of the storm.

Maybe mostly because of the paparazzi who’ve been tailing us.

I try to ignore the presence of the camera flashes. Knowing they’re swarming me and Lo and not Xander makes me feel better. I always try to take this light from my children, so they don’t have to stand beneath its heat.

Except, the attention is on Moffy, Luna, my nieces and nephews, and everyone else on tour right now. They’re stuck.

Maybe Lo and I can help the SFO bodyguards at the fan convention.

We’re the most famous of everyone, after all.

That’s an idea.

An idea that lingers as just an idea all the way to the venue. Lo has sufficiently chewed out the hotel staff, and an employee has tracked down the shipment to the hotel’s storage room. It was misplaced.

Now it’s been found.

Lo doesn’t look happy about having made some of the staff cry. “Maybe you’re right, Lil,” he says after our toasts that went pretty well.

We’re drinking flutes of sparkling water in the ballroom, transformed into a Halway Comics sponsored event. Most everyone here is more interested in the actors of The Fourth Degree films. The actors are taking photographs with the action figures and collectibles that’ll go to kids. It’s all good promo for charity.

I hope the kids at the hospital enjoy the toys. I know just seeing the actors in their superhero costumes will make them smile.

“Right about what?”

“I could’ve done that nicely and not ruined someone’s night.” He seems torn up about it. “I’m an asshole.”

“You’re a good person—”

“I’m not, Lil.”

“You are,” I catch his hand, his eyes reddening on mine. “Lo, I know your heart and you’re good, and if you hate what you did tonight, then you don’t have to do it again.”

“Yeah…” He exhales, thinking about this, and then his lips nearly lift. “I’m glad our kids are more like you. It’s the best gift this universe has ever given me.”

I remember Xander earlier. “I was just thinking today how it’s not a good thing they’re like me, and it’d be better if more of our kids were more like you.”

“No, never,” he emphasizes, drawing closer. “That’s the Darkest Timeline, love.” I’m about to reply about how our kids have inherited his good qualities too, but he’s being summoned by a PR person across the ballroom.

“Don’t go too far?” He kisses me lightly on the cheek.

“I was gonna say the same to you.”

He smiles back at me as he leaves.

It’s a smile I keep close to my heart, and I try to avoid major social interactions by busying myself with my phone. Internet is spotty. The single bar keeps going out, and the whole hotel high-rise shakes with gusts of wind and booms of thunder. Rain pelts the glass windows.

So I end up pocketing my phone in my purse. I mill around the ballroom, staying on the outskirts and blending into the wall.

I’m hoping we can dip out super early since the big attraction are the actors, not us.

And plus, I think I’m starting to really stink. The nervous sweat from the toast has imprinted itself on my blouse. I try not to lift my arms too much.

“Lily Hale?” a woman greets brightly like we know each other.

I can’t place her, but I force a smile. “Hey…you.”

She does the air-kiss on either side of my face, and she even touches my hand. “How have you been?”

“Um, great?” Who the hell is she? Wispy gray hairs in a bun, smooth cheeks but a wrinkly neck—like she’s possibly had cosmetic work done. She’s much older than me.

As old as my mom.

Oh God, this is likely one of my mom’s socialite friends. We’re at a social function. “Have you talked to my mom recently?” I throw out there, thinking it won’t be so bad if she says, who?

“Just last week,” she smiles.

Ah-ha! I was right. I’m smiling back in triumph.

The woman continues, “She was raving about Jane’s involvement in the charities through that fan convention she put together.”

“That Maximoff put together,” I correct since he’s the one who created H.M.C. Philanthropies. “Jane is helping.”

“Oh right…” She takes a delicate sip of champagne. “I heard your son and niece are close.”

I stiffen.

The incest rumors have started to wane, and I don’t like that she’s bringing them up, especially here. I’m about to pretend to take a call, but she speaks fast, as though sensing my displeasure.

“How are your bodyguards doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“That viral video. It’s amusing, isn’t it? The women at the club thought that tall one was handsome.”

Thatcher, I’m guessing.

Before I can reply, she asks, “Is he single? I have a granddaughter who’d love to meet him.”

I’m not playing matchmaker for my mom’s friend. Nope. Not happening. “Sorry, I’m totally blanking on what your name is.”

“Cheryl Barnes.”

She’s the sister to Olivia Barnes, my mom’s best friend. “Thanks, Cheryl, but I have to…” My phone actually does ring. Thank you, Jesus! “I have to take this.” I unearth my phone from my purse.

As I dislodge from her presence and round the champagne table, I realize Luna is calling, and my stomach drops.

Quickly, I put the phone to my ear.

“Mom?” she says, voice spiked.

“Luna? What’s wrong?”

The line goes quiet.

I glance down and see the call dropped. And I have a missed call from Kinney about ten minutes ago…

I try to call Luna back, but I’m struggling to find good service in this storm.

Something feels wrong, and I bypass the mingling publicists and actors and socialites to find Lo.

“Lo?” I call out, my head whipping left and right. “Lo?” I move faster. “Have you seen Loren Hale?” I ask someone.

The lady shakes her head. “Sorry. Hey, do you want to take a pic—” She cuts herself off because I’m already sprinting away. I see him.

He starts jogging towards me, seeing my panic. He catches my arm as soon as we brush up against one another. “Lil, what’s wrong?”

“I got a missed call from Kinney.”

He digs out his phone. His cheekbones are like knives. “She called me, too.”

“It must’ve dropped or not rung through like mine.”

His eyes slice sharper. He’s searching the event space for our security.

“Luna called me a minute ago. Service is bad…” I trail off, our heads swerving as our bodyguards cut through the event crowd to reach us. Their stoic faces don’t give much away, but their urgency isn’t good. “Lo.”

He tucks me closer to his body, and I feel the quickened beat of his heart.

WE RUSH OUT OF the ballroom with our bodyguards, and I can’t say a fucking word to anyone on my way out. I need to know my daughters and my sons are safe.

I need to know what the hell is happening.

Being in the dark—it’s something I know a lot about. I was in the dark for a good majority of my life. I was lied to about who my mom was. Told that I was a rightful heir when really, I was the bastard my dad just loved too much.

I would take that darkness a thousand and million times over this. Over being in the dark about the well-being of my kids.

About not knowing if they’re okay.

These finite, infinitesimal seconds compound like millenniums of painful unknowing inside me, and I hate it.

I goddamn loathe it and wish I could rip it into a billion ugly pieces. So I can see some shred of light and hope—to know they’re okay.

They’re all safe.

“What’s going on?” I ask Bruno in the elevator on our descent to the parking deck, and I can’t get ahold of my brother. He’s not answering. My eyes are burning. They’re on fire like I could eviscerate this entire goddamn world to ensure no one hurts them. To ensure I can get to them.

We have to get home.

It’s all Lily and I know for sure.

We have to get home.

Bruno is touching his comms earpiece as he tells us, “Xander locked his door.”

Lily goes rigid against my chest.

I hold her around the waist. “What do you mean he locked his door?” He’s not supposed to lock his door. “Where’s Kinney?”

Kinney has been calling us.

“Lo.” Lily’s legs nearly buckle. She makes a wounded sound that crushes my windpipe, but I somehow whisper against her ear, “They’re fine, Lil. He’s probably just trying to get some privacy.”

He’s not supposed to lock his door.

We’ve had that rule ever since we found him…

Ever since he tried to…

He was eleven.

It was the most terrifying moment of my goddamn life.

Lily is fumbling with her phone, trembling. Her silent tears are wetting my shirt. We’re both trying to hold it together.

“I have Price on the line,” Bruno hands me his cell before I can even dial Connor’s number.

I put the cell to my ear. “Price—”

“Banks is at the house,” he tells me quickly. “I think Ryke might already be there. Rose or Daisy, too.”

“Is my son okay? Where’s Kinney?” We exit the elevator, and Lily can barely move. She’s still trembling, and I nearly pick up my best friend—my wife, the mother of my kids, my love—trying to move her along to the SUV. I whisper to her, “We have to go, love.”

We have to go.

She nods repeatedly and mutters those words like a mantra that’s guiding her. We head quickly to the car, not a far trek.

“Price?” I speak tightly, my throat swollen.

He’s taking way too fucking long to answer.

When we’re in the backseat of the SUV, I pull out my phone to call Connor, but Price finally says, “I haven’t gotten word yet from Banks.”

“Rose isn’t answering,” Lily breathes shakily beside me while Bruno puts the car into drive. We’re veering out of the parking garage, and I feel so fucking helpless.

I rub my searing eyes. “Get Kinney…” I don’t know if our son is alive. “Get Kinney away from there.” It’s stabbing me cold, imagining it all.

Lily—Lily is bowed forward; surging tears blur her eyes, and she struggles to text her sisters. “I…I don’t care that I stink. I don’t care about…anything but them…I just want him to be…” Her voice breaks into a guttural sob that rips through me like it’s my own helpless cry.

My face feels torn up, and I hug her gangly frame against me. “Lil.” I hear my own voice fracture.

“I knew he was sa-aa-ad, Lo,” she stammers in her tears. “I should’ve stayed home. I should’ve stayed home.”

“He’s okay.” It feels hollow in my throat.

“We-we don’t know…” She cries harder. “He looked at me….the way he looked at me before we left, Lo. He told me he loved me, and he didn’t look away from me like he was…like he was saying goodbye.”

“It wasn’t a goodbye.”

“What if it was?”

I wipe her wet cheeks while she tries to catch her breath, but really, it feels like Lily and I are just holding onto one another and trying not to crumble. “It wasn’t a goodbye,” I repeat in a sickened daze.

He never said goodbye to me.

I ran out of the house too fast.

For fucking work. I chose to leave over saying goodbye to Kinney and Xander, and I’ll never do that again.

Never. Nothing is more important to me than my kids and my wife, and that’s the goddamn truth of my life.

They are it.

They’re why I’m still alive, and if I lose one…

I can’t.

We can’t.

I feel suffocated. I tear at the collar of my shirt.

Maybe I should go back and tell my twenty-one-year-old self that there is worse pain that I’d feel in my life. Worse than learning my mom wasn’t my mom. Worse than knowing I’d been lied to.

I could tell myself that one day I’m going to be a father, and the love that I have for Lily is going to multiply to four other human souls, and it’s going to hurt.

It’s going to hurt when they hurt—just like it’s always hurt when Lily hurts—and there is nothing I can do.

Or maybe I shouldn’t tell myself that.

Because then I might really be afraid to have kids. More than I was before Moffy was born.

Price hasn’t updated me yet, and I put the phone back to my ear to tell him to get Alpha to remove the hinges on Xander’s door. Make sure none of the kids go into his room, if they end up at our house. I don’t want them to see…

I can’t even think it without feeling a fist through my body, so I’m trying not to. I’m trying. When Lily’s phone rings, I hang up with him. My brother is calling her.

She answers on speaker phone.

“Ryke?” Lily croaks.

“Xander is asking to talk to you.”

He’s alive. Caged tears suddenly release out of my eyes, streaming hot and silent against my cheeks. “He’s okay?” I choke out.

“I think you should fucking talk to him,” Ryke says quietly. “We found him in the bathtub.”

“The tub?” Lily swings her head to me, wide-eyed in dismay. We’re both slammed against the past—her past, our past—and it’s harder to breathe.

I hold her tighter against me and speak to my brother. “But he’s—”

“He had his fucking headphones on, so he didn’t hear anyone beating at the door. Physically, he’s alright. But he’s in boxers in the water—I’m handing him the phone now.”

Lily sniffs back tears. “XanderXander?”

“What’s wrong, bub?” I ask as softly as I can.

He inhales a jagged breath. “I…I can’t do this. Mom.” His broken cry for Lily pummels me back.

“I’m here,” she whispers, cupping the phone gently like it’s an extension of our son. “I’m here, Xander. Your dad and I aren’t that far away. We’ll be home soon.”

“I don’t want to do this,” he says, his voice choked. “Please…”

“We’re coming home,” Lily says more strongly into the speaker. “We’re coming home, and remember, we’re going to have that talk? Remember how I said everything is going to work out? Well, I’m your mom and I know things. I know everything will get better.”

His breath sounds deeper. It takes him another minute to speak. “Can you tell them to leave? I just want…I want to be alone until you come back.”

“That’s not fucking happening,” Ryke says in the background.

“We don’t have to talk,” Rose adds, trying to soften her voice like I did. “You can just relax, but we’re not leaving you.”

God, I’m glad they’re both there. If I thought or said anything biting about Rose today, I take it back a hundred times over. She can sit on her pristine throne for eternity.

“They don’t get it, Mom,” Xander says tearfully. “Please.”

“They just love you and want to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

“They’re making it worse,” he mumbles. “Like, I can’t even get out of the fucking tub with my aunt here.” His voice is hoarse now.

“I’ll leave you with Ryke,” Rose says tightly. I imagine she’s casting one of her glares at my brother to not take his eyes off their nephew.

“See, you’re just with Ryke now,” Lily says gently. “It’s not so bad. No one is judging you, and we’re all just here for you.”

“Nothing’s gone right,” he mutters, and we hear the splash of water.

“Xander,” Ryke says in worry.

“What’s happening?” Lily asks faster than I can.

“He’s just sitting on the fucking tile,” Ryke answers, and I picture my son slumped against the tub, his head on his bent knees like he’s too exhausted to lift it up.

“I don’t want to talk until my mom gets here,” Xander says almost inaudibly. Thank God he has her. Thank God he has a better mom than I ever did.

“Alright,” Ryke replies. “You hear that, Lo, Lily?”

“Yeah,” Lily breathes, “we’re not too far away.”

While we stay on the line with Xander, we just listen to his breath that evens out. Every now and then, I remind him that we’re close, and Lily says that everything’s going to be okay. He eases more when she speaks.

Thank God he has her.

I try calling Kinney, but she doesn’t answer and just immediately sends me a text.

Don’t want to talk. – Kinney

I clench my jaw. What’d she see? What’d she hear? I text Rose, asking if she’s with Kinney.

I’m with her in the living room. She’s still upset. – Rose

Great.

I swallow the coarse lump in my throat.

When we’re around the corner, we hang up with Xander. Lily wipes her cheeks dry and then turns to me. “You still want them to be like me, Lo?” She’s had breakdowns in bathtubs before. “This is the Darkest Timeline.”

“It’s not,” I refute, cupping her soft, round cheek, looking into her green eyes. “It’s not, Lil. He’s alive. He’s going to be okay.”

“He’s going to be okay,” she repeats with a nod. “Kinney.”

Kinney. “She doesn’t want to talk on the phone. When we get back in there, I think you should go talk to Xander, I’ll speak to Kin.”

Lily hooks my pinky finger with hers like it’s a promise.

I lean in and seal it with a kiss on her soft lips. With my hand on the back of her head, with her fingers tightening against my shirt, this is one of our deep kisses born from the soul. Born from being desperate for each other.

Born from not knowing how to live without each other.

Born from needing one another today, tomorrow, and the next.

There will be a next.

I tell her to remind Xander of that, since I’m going to go talk to Kinney first. Lily promises she will, and Bruno parks in the driveway.

Once we’re inside the house, Lily immediately races up the staircase, and I veer into the living room.

Rose rises from the sofa, and Kinney is curled up in a chair. She’s flipping through TV channels, not saying anything.

“Kinney,” I say.

She’s not speaking. Just punching the remote button angrily. Makeup wipes scatter the coffee table, covered in black splotches.

Kinney’s face is clean of makeup.

“Loren,” Rose greets quietly, rounding the sofa to me. Her piercing yellow-green eyes flit back to my daughter but then land on me again. She speaks under her breath. “She had a knife.”

My face screws up. “Why?”

“She tried to break the door down.”

I grit down on my teeth. With a knife. My sharpened gaze cuts back to my daughter. I’m sorry, Kinney. Lily and I should’ve been here. She shouldn’t have had to be alone tonight to deal with that. Jesus, I should’ve made a bodyguard be on the clock here. Or I should’ve made Kinney and Xander spend the night at the Cobalts’ or Meadows’.

“It’s not your fault,” Rose says stiffly.

“What?” I hear my cutting voice.

Her hands perch on her hips. “It’s not your fault,” she emphasizes haughtily.

“Thank you,” I snap back and instantly regret my attitude. “Thank you…I mean that.” For everything tonight.

She nods. “I would’ve done the same thing. Left them alone.”

It does ease some parental guilt, but I scrunch my face at Rose. “Get out of my head, Angelica.”

Rose glares. “You think I like being there? I’ve gagged five times. It’s disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Eat shit and die.”

I almost smile. Almost. I nod to her.

She tries to smile back, but she can’t either. “Text me if you need anything else.”

I nod again. “Night.”

Before she leaves, I notice Kinney watching the interaction I had with Rose, more interested, but she pretends not to care and returns to the TV.

“Hey, Kin.” I take a seat on the armrest of the sofa, facing my daughter. Ham is asleep in his doggy bed on the floor. I wonder how much our basset hound saw tonight or if he just slept through all the awful shit.

Lucky him.

“Hey.” She looks so young for thirteen, just like Lily did growing up. She has so much of Lily in her round face and features, but the bluntness of her voice sounds nothing like her mom. After an exasperated sigh, she asks me, “What are you even doing here? Go talk to Xander, Dad. He’s the one who needs you.”

“I am later,” I say more casually. “He needs your mom more right now. What are we watching?”

“Nothing.” She clicks off the TV. “Everything sucks tonight.”

“I feel that.” I stand up. “You eat anything?”

“Yeah. Mom made broccoli casserole.” She picks at her chipped black nail polish. “It’s really good.”

“Great, I’m starving.”

“They don’t feed you at those things?”

“Food was gross. Cucumber sandwiches and escargot.”

“Ew.” She wrinkles her nose.

I head towards the kitchen, hoping she’ll follow me. When she was little, she’d chase after me when she was bored and ask me what I was doing. That doesn’t happen as much anymore.

Kinney looks over at me like she wants to come along. She frowns at the remote in her hand.

“You want dessert?” I ask.

She lifts her head. “Yeah. I guess some ice cream sounds good.”

I go into the kitchen with Kinney. Surprised to see that they put the casserole dish back into the fridge and didn’t pile dirty dishes in the sink. Or maybe Rose cleaned up while she was here.

Kinney sits on a barstool at the island, and I slide her a pint of mint chocolate chip with a spoon.

While I heat up a bowl of casserole, Kinney says, “I don’t know how Luna can let the ice cream get soupy before she eats it. By that point, it’s basically a milkshake.”

“Milkshakes are inferior,” I agree.

She smiles over at me, then thinks. “So are you and Aunt Rose like frenemies?”

“Mortal enemies,” I correct.

“Seriously, Dad.”

I wait for the microwave to beep. It’s hard to describe the kind of relationship I even have with my brother or Connor or Daisy, let alone Rose. We’ve all been there for so long…during the worst moments…and the best.

Births of our children.

Graduations.

Maybe even one day we’ll see our kids get engaged. Married. Who knows? Or maybe I’ll die by then. You can’t count on anything, can you?

But I know I can count on them.

All six of us.

Christ, eight of us, if I include Garrison and Willow, and I should. She’s my little sister. And as soon as I think that, I know what to tell my daughter.

“Rose is my big sister. You know what that’s like.”

“Yeah…but Aunt Rose isn’t like Luna.” She dunks her spoon in the ice cream and stares at the pint, her eyes suddenly welling up. “I tried to get to him, Dad. I really did.”

My chest caves. “You shouldn’t have had to,” I tell her strongly. “I’m sorry that was on you to deal with, Kinney. I should’ve been here with you. You should’ve never been alone.”

Her chin trembles. “I thought he was dead.” Her voice shatters, and she breaks into a sob. “I really thought he was gone, Dad.”

The microwave beeps.

I ignore it and come around the island. I hug Kinney, and my daughter wraps her arms around me and cries into my chest.

“He’s not gone,” I breathe. “Over my dead corpse.”

She sniffs back a sob and tries to stop crying. “I’m mad at him, but I love him—and I just wish…I wish he loved me enough that he’d want to be here.”

I tighten my gaze onto hers. “It’s not that he doesn’t love you enough—because I know he does." I take a beat, knowing what Lily would say. "It’s that when he feels that low, everything good is hard to reach. It’s drowned out, Kinney, and he just needs to come up for air.”

“But how?” Her watery eyes are still on mine.

“It’s not your job to save him,” I tell her. “Just love him when you can, and I promise that’s enough. I promise.”

Kinney exhales a long breath, and I let one out too.

WHEN I REACH THE second-floor, I see his door propped against the wall. Off its hinges. The wood is hacked, though, so I’m confused as I step into Xander’s room.

My son is lying on the mattress in red pajama pants. His dirty pile of clothes are kicked off the bed and onto the floor. He’s on his side, not facing me, but he’s wearing headphones.

Ryke is leaning against the bedpost, his arms crossed. Silent and broody, and as soon as he sees me, he straightens off the post and comes over.

“What’s with the door?” I ask him.

“Kinney tried to break in with a fucking knife.”

My heart aches, and I try to force down tears. “Okay…” I swallow hard, remembering that Lo is with our daughter. He’ll comfort her. He’s much better at that with Kinney than I am. Which is why I’m here with Xander.

Ryke glances back at Xander who stirs on the bed. 

Xander notices I’m here.

“Thanks, Ryke,” I whisper.

He gives me a nod, then leaves out of the doorway.

Xander sits up some, but mostly, he’s slumped against the headboard. I hop onto the bed and settle beside him. Giving him some space, but he keeps looking over at me.

“I ruined your charity thing,” he says sadly, guiltily. His face contorts through too many glum emotions. I understand exactly what’s churning through him, and I wish I could just hug his soul.

“I didn’t want to be there, anyway,” I remind him. “I was happy we got to leave early.”

He’s trying to believe this, I think. “What’s the point?” His voice is so quiet. “Anything I do, it’s going to be online. Nothing is safe, and I can’t…I can’t be here if every breath I take is dissected. It feels…”

“Suffocating,” I guess.

He swallows and nods. “It’s so…painful.” His eyes cinch with welling emotion. “And no one gets it—they don’t get how just being hurts, and I think it’d be better if I just go.”

“No,” I shake my head fiercely. “It’s not better, Xander.”

He cries, staring at the bed, and I hold his hand that grips onto the comforter while he says, “I can’t see a way that it is, Mom.”

“You will. One day, it’ll creep up on you, and it’ll dawn on you that you’re so happy you exist in this world. And you’ll remember back to today and be so thankful you got through this. You’ll think of the pretty sunsets you watched at the lake house. The conventions you’ll attend for all the fantasy shows you love. All the times you smiled during Christmas, surrounded by family. The day you graduated school. The day you got married to the love of your life. The day your children were born, and you’ll look at your Christmas miracle and think, I’m so happy they exist in this world.”

Xander rubs at his reddened, tear-filled eyes and leans more into me.

I hug my youngest son. “There will be better days. Beautiful days. And you won’t want to miss them. This feeling today that you feel—it’s fleeting. I know that. I felt that, too. And there will be a new start. A tomorrow. A next.”

“How…?” He tries to take deeper breaths. “How do I just get over it? Because it’s inescapable.”

I’ve asked him before if there’s anything we can do to make it feel less invasive. Less suffocating. Bodyguards helped, but there are little things online that will keep cropping up. “We can move—”

“No,” he interjects. “Kinney…I…we don’t even know if anything would change if we left Philly, and I like being around our whole family…” He means his aunts and uncles and cousins. He has so few social interactions outside of them. Xander sits up a little more off my shoulder. “It’d feel…more isolating if we left, you know…” He grinds his jaw, thinking things through. His neck is splotchy red as emotion grows. “I wish I was the kind of person who could just withstand everything enough to be here, not be run out, but that feels like Moffy. Like I wasn’t made like that.”

“Why don’t you think you are?”

“He doesn’t let little shit get to him like I do,” Xander mutters, his eyes downcast again. “I don’t know how to ignore the fact that my life is being gorged by people. Every second, every minute…”

“I think, first, you need to believe in yourself,” I whisper. “Believe you can, as corny as that sounds.”

He’s frowning.

I nudge his arm. “This is everything that matters. The air you breathe. The people you love who are around you. The rest isn’t in focus. It’s like…”

“Background?”

“Yeah, background.” I nod, hoping this helps him adjust his perspective. I know it’s hard, but I don’t want him to think it’s impossible.

He breathes a lot better and eases back against the headboard. His eyes go sad and guilt-stricken again, though. “I fucked up." He winces at himself. "I think I scared Kinney. She’s going to hate me.”

“She loves you, and she’ll be okay, too.” I pat his knee.

He takes another breath. We talk a bit longer about ignoring online stuff, repercussions from the viral video, and just focusing on the present and not what ifs. 

Xander hugs me before I go, and he says he’s just going to watch Lord of the Rings in his room.

I’m trusting him, but also, the door is gone, so we have a good view of him and his room. Still, I’m wondering if I should camp out in the hallway tonight.

It’s a discussion Lo and I have in the hallway about twenty minutes later, after Lo talks to Xander about seeing his therapist more. To which Xander easily agrees to.

We’re sitting against the wall. Trying not to be so obvious about staring into his room. “Luna has booked her plane,” I tell Lo after reading the text updates from Moffy and Luna in L.A. “She’ll be home tomorrow.”

“There’s something else, Lil,” Lo says quietly. It sounds bad.

“What?” I go still.

He runs his fingers against the back of his neck. “Before I came back upstairs, Price called me.” Lo winces. “He told me Maximoff might have a stalker.”

“Wha…?”

“Some Instagram account thing. I don’t know. Omega has been looking into it, apparently, but he thought we should know in case it turns out legit or whatever.” He tenses. “So there’s that beacon of light.”

I blink hard like maybe this is all a bad dream.

I have to choose to believe the security team has this handled. “Farrow will look after Moffy,” I remind Lo. “He has someone now, and I think Moffy is actually willing to let Farrow help him.”

Lo thinks about this in a quiet moment, and I mention to him about the idea I had earlier today. How paparazzi are all over SFO at the FanCon, but we might be able to do something to divert that attention.

“We’re the most famous,” I remind him. “Maybe there’s something we can do to send all the paparazzi back to us.”

Lo turns his head towards me, his amber eyes carrying so many years, the nostalgia pooling between us, and then in the quiet, he says, “Marry me.”

“I already did that.”

“Marry me again, love.” Our hands are already together. Our legs already intertwined.

I feel happier tears rise. “You still have the purest parts of my heart.” There won’t be a day he doesn’t.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” I say against a kiss.

It’s always a yes.

Thank you so, so much for taking the time to read this month's Main Bonus Scene! It also happens to be the Special "2000 Patrons" Bonus Scene, the topic voted on by all of you 💕

And we are incredibly grateful you chose this one. It's turned out to be one of our all-time favorite scenes we've written, and it adds so much more to the happenings in Lovers Like Us. We cried a lot while writing it. (Our eyes were all puffy by the end.) We're in love with Lily & Lo's soul mate romance, and even more in love with their love for their children. The Hale family has our hearts. Again, thank you all for being here on our Patreon. This bonus wouldn't have been possible without all of you 💕

If you're interested in reading more during this moment and haven't seen this yet, check out Kick the Door In -- this same night told in Banks' POV. 

There's still another bonus scene coming today! Yes, one more, and you'll see Xander again. So be on the lookout! 

xoxo Krista & Becca

"Xander Crisis at Home" Copyright © 2022 by K.B. Ritchie