Thick as Thieves (The Greystone Family: Stolen Hearts #3)

Chapter 2

2

Xander

Barclay House, Scotland

I stand with my dad, Tarron, in the house where I delivered the babies. Time seems to have sped up. It can’t be over a week ago that the two most gorgeous babies in Scotland entered this world. The Fairy House, as it’s known locally due to its pink stone that was said to be kissed by the Fairy Prince himself, was one of Evie’s favourite places on the estate, even before she gave birth in it. But Dad had refurbished it for holiday lettings rather than a maternity wing. So we’re discussing moving Evie and the twins back up to the big house, when she wakes with a start and looks over at us. I smile instantly at her, as does my dad, but she’s not looking at us.

She’s staring past us with the most amazed look on her face, completely awestruck, talking to a child. A girl by the sounds of it.

I look at Dad, and he’s staring at her with the strangest look on his face.

“Evie, there’s no one there,” I tell her as my dad goes towards the bed to pick up the boys, who have stirred.

She laughs and drops back onto the pillows. “Must be dreaming still. Probably a post pregnancy thing.”

Eamonn, Marcus’s young nephew of sorts, opens the bedroom door. “Are they awake, Aunty Kitten? Can I get them out?”

He’s totally into the babies. At the ripe old age of seven, he held Marcus up as the children were born and was the coolest head in the room. He’s continued helping out when he can. Spending as much time in their presence as Evie will let him. Talking about the mares at the stables who are in foal and will be having their babies soon. When they’re older, he tells the twins, he’ll take them and show them.

His chatter fills the room, and the daily procession of people start to come in. It’s like a conveyor belt, one in one out.

I don’t move. I need to stay. The pull to be near her, and them, is so fucking strong, I know I’m incapable of resisting.

“These babies will never want to be without company,” I tell her as there’s a little lull in people coming for a cuddle.

“It was the same for James,” she tells me. “He had the three Greystones in London, and when we went to Devon there were a total of seven Greystones plus Marshall. He was never alone, and was perfectly at ease in any company. Farm workers, everyone in the pub, he knew everyone and they all knew him. It does them good to learn how to adapt. Oh, and be the centre of attention. James was great at that.” She laughs and her stomach moves, jiggling one of the boys, who grumbles at her.

The magnetic pull cranks up a level, my skin practically itches, drawing me closer. I sit on the bed, reaching out to touch one of their heads. The dark brown hair is as soft as down.

“Which one is this?” I ask her softly.

“The oldest, Lachlan. Do you think that’s a nice name? Tarron told me it means from the Loch. We could call him Lochi for short.”

She looks at my face for my reaction and I smile gently at the name knowing she’s looking for reassurance.

“It’s a lovely name. Have you got one for him?” I touch the other boy's hair, just as silky as his brother’s.

“Sorley. I know it means summer traveller, but I like it.”

She bends her head and kisses the boys, snuggling against me and rubbing her face on my arm that’s touching Sorley’s head. It’s a mix of static electricity and a cooling balm. Tingles run up and down my body, and I don’t mind even a little bit that she’s finding comfort in my presence.

“Thanks for staying, Xan.” She looks into my face, her emotions, her love for me and the babies fully on show, and my breath gets stuck in my chest.

“Where else would I be?” I respond, diverting my gaze from hers as I continue to stroke the little boy's head. I can’t look directly at her. I’ll crumble, cave in. Collapse all this on top of us all.

“I know why you like to go back to California at this time of year. For the sun. It’s cold here, although these two are like a pair of heaters.” She laughs, trying to break the tension in the air. Tension I am clearly creating.

“Hey.” Marcus comes in, seeming not to notice the tension swirling in the room. He’s fully focused on Evie and his babies, going round to the other side to kiss his wife and touch his sons.

He’s unrestrictedly transformed into a man in love with his family. Gone is the shallow rockstar, the broken man who was so crippled by the fear that his babies would not survive beyond pregnancy, he needed to numb out life at the bottom of a bottle. The man who tormented both himself and his wife by being photographed with a barrage of women outside nightclubs, even if he never actually did anything with any of them. He’d convinced himself he was so cursed, if he returned home to his wife, something would happen to her and their unborn children. Fear and torment gripping him, he acted out in a despicable way, beating himself up in the process, guilt fuelling every action.

You’d think I’d be amazed by the transformation, but here now, with her, and them, I’m not. I get it.

“I’ve gotten word to Tim. He’s talking about putting out a statement about the children. What do you think?” he asks us both.

Our lives are lived in a goldfish bowl. Marcus and I, being part of the highly successful band Velvet Smoke for the past twenty years, are used to it. Now Evie has been dragged out of obscurity and into the circus. It doesn’t help their cause that their oldest sons James and Bucky are also turning into superstar musicians. They couldn’t escape the spotlight, or the additional glow it creates. It’s simply added to the scrutiny.

Evie looks at me then Marcus. “Do what you think is best, Kellen,” she says, calling him by the name she prefers. One going back to our childhood together.

I remember the first time she called him that. It was spat at him with venomous gusto. A slur. I smirk as I remember them all at it, the Greystones. It soon changed to a term of endearment, a way to separate herself from the hordes that hung off Marcus even then. A connection forged from a different time.

I hardly hear her calling my name until she is practically shouting it.

“Xan?”

“Sooner the better,” I respond, thinking about the hordes who might be turning up to sneak a peek at the rockstar’s newborn children. “Then if you stay up here, it’s hard for people to get around without being noticed. We can see them coming.”

“Are you staying, Xan?” Kellen asks me. “I thought you said you needed to go back to California for label business.”

He’s giving me an out, telling me if I want to go, I can. After thirty seven years of friendship, and being in a band together, we’ve lived through every life adventure. From the ridiculous to the sublime. We can practically read each other's thoughts. He wants me to stay, but understands if I want to escape the baby mania in favour of more adult pursuits.

“Will you come back for James’s birthday? He’ll be with us before he goes to South America, and it’s the winter solstice. Isn’t there a party here for that?” Evie’s cataloguing events for me here, and looking like she’s going to cry. “I’m sorry.” She swipes at her eyes. “These hormones… When Eamonn goes home tomorrow I’ll be like a tsunami. I feel in a lovely bubble now, but it will all come to an end.”

Kell moves towards her, we both do, her emotions pulling us forwards to comfort her.

Both boys have rolled off her breasts, milk-drunk and fast asleep, and Marcus moves her dressing gown to cover her up. “Well look, I’ve got to go to London for a few days soon, and Yorkshire. Mother is not coping well. Apparently the period drama is up for renewal contracts.”

He grins at his joke. It’s his view of his mother’s life. The Lady Rowena Russell. Dowager Countess of Stockton. Living it up at Eastwood, Marcus’s family estate in Yorkshire.

He picks up Lochi, winding the sleeping baby and putting him in the basket at the side of the bed. “And she wants to see the boys.”

“Really?” Evie scoffs, watching him move around the bedroom. “She gave an interview about how they weren’t your children. So I'm not sure why she’s desperate to see them.”

Her voice is incredulous. I smirk at her. The animosity between the two of them is brewing. My money’s on Kitten.

He sighs, frustration coming off him in waves. “I know, and I’ve spoken to her about it, but she is still their grandmother so…”

“I’ll stay here, take care of everyone while you’re in London. Is she coming up here before Christmas, do you know? I think you need to make a decision on where you’re going to live, too. Here, London, Yorkshire, Devon, France, LA? Choices, choices,” I say to them both with a laugh. “We are certainly well-off for homes.”

“I prefer Devon. I need to see Marshall,” Evie states with conviction. “James can see everyone there.”

Marcus looks at me and raises his eyebrows. “He might get a better offer of a party. Don’t get your hopes up he'll be with us for Christmas.”

She snorts at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. The only reason he wasn’t with me last year is because he wanted to get to know you better. He’s already done that,” she pokes at him.

I start to laugh. “Jesus, I hope never to experience anything like that again. He was like Genghis Khan, smashing through everyone.”

“Well don’t piss him off then,” says Evie. “You know what he’s like. He’ll be with us. He won’t want to miss the twins' first Christmas,” she says with total conviction as she passes Sorley to Marcus to wind.

I look over at the thirty-seven-year-old rock star and grin. “Rock and Roll brother.” And laugh at his face.

“I’m a pro,” he says, and gently swings little Sorley round, grinning, looking so pleased with life.

Himself (one of the names my dad is known as) comes in with itchy hands to hold the babies, or the newest members of his Clan, as he calls them. He shoos us out so he can have quality time with his ‘grandbairns.’

“So where are you really off to?” I ask Marcus, when we’re out of earshot of the Fairy House.

“I really have got to tie up some legal stuff, and my mother, but I want to go see a doctor,” he states, his face a mask of seriousness.

“What the fuck for? Are you ill?”

“No, the old snip-snip.”

I start to laugh. “Really now?” He’s lost his mind. It’s still rolling about in the bottom of a bottle of whiskey.

“Yes, now. I can’t do it again Xander, I just can’t. I feel like we got lucky this time, and I just can’t go through it again.”

His face is a picture of panic. He’s clearly not showing Evie what he really feels. But his worries are not unfounded, his fear based on tragic experiences. I know the four inexplicable miscarriages he went through with his first wife are playing heavy on his mind. Four little funerals over the past eighteen years drove him to the point of madness. He nearly didn’t make it here to see these two beautiful boys being born, such was his turmoil. He spent the majority of Evie’s pregnancy numbing out life by whatever means necessary so he didn’t have to relive every haunting moment. I’m convinced he lost his mind, and all reason, for a while, his despair driving him to make incredibly stupid decisions. Those decisions nearly cost him his family.

But his wife is an amazing woman. Her capacity to love him transcended his behaviour. Her innate understanding of her husband, his fear, his despair, engendered her to love him regardless. Forgive him fully, and move forwards. He is one lucky man to have that in his life.

“You never did anything other than hang onto Evie. I was at the business end and Eamonn did everything else.” I keep things light, try and drag him into at least acting rational. But mostly he isn’t.

He starts to laugh. “I know I was useless, but she wouldn’t let me go, still won’t. Do you think she’s okay? She’s clinging onto us both for dear life.” I can see the same concerns in his face as are on my mind.

“She says it’s her hormones, they’ll settle. I’ll watch her, you go get sorted if you need to. Are you telling her what you’re doing?” I know the answer before he states it.

He scowls at me. “No chance. She might say no. But once it’s done, that’s it. I can’t go through it again, Xan. You saw the state of me.”

I nod at him. It is true he was a total mess, a wreck of a man.

“I don’t want to go, to leave. It’s the weirdest feeling. I can’t stop touching them.” He looks at me, a dazed expression of love on his handsome face.

I smile. “I know, they’re like magnets, everyone’s at it. It’s Kitten. She has that tractor beam on full blast. Everyone within a ten mile radius is being dragged in. Even Bug won’t want to go home.”

“Are you alright, Xander? You know I don’t want you to go, but if you need to, I’d understand.”

I look at him, his emotions not normally on show are clear for me to see today.

I nod. “I’ll stay as long as I can,” I tell him as we move back towards the house.

I’m drinking whisky in Himself’s study when Dad walks in after his fix of holding the babies for the day.

He sits in the highly worn, incredibly comfortable leather office chair behind his desk. Light streams in through the large windows. Pouring whisky into a glass, he keeps his eyes on me as I lounge on his settee.

“How long have I got before you bolt?”

I pull a face at him, smirking, faking humour.

“I see your face everyday, son. Just give me a bit of warning if you can. Will you go to Devon with them?” He tips the glass towards the Fairy House. “It sounds like Marcus is intending to do a tour of Britain to get home.” He shakes his head. “Here to Edinburgh, drop off in Yorkshire, London, then Devon. Why doesn't he just wait another week? Then he can fly them all straight to Devon. Or at least London then Devon.”

He rolls his eyes. His highly logical brain never has understood the chaos that is Marcus Henry James Kellen Russell. Earl of Stockton.

I shrug and grin. “Not sure, and I don’t want to get in the way. Push him into any decisions.” I sip at my whisky, savouring the familiar heat of our family's brand. “To be honest, they’ve hardly had any real time together, what with Marcus’s fuck ups. So maybe it’ll be good for me to be away from them, let them have some time alone.”

“Do you think she’ll let you go?”

I look up at him sharply. “It’s not up to her, though, is it? It’s me, my decision.” But then I add with a smirk, “She’ll let me go if I ask her.”

He shakes his head at me. “Xander, my beautiful boy, sometimes in life we have to make decisions. You need to be brave, son, and make one.” He gets up, plonking his empty glass down with a thunk before leaving the room.

Fuck, I know I do. I can’t hang around them all the time like a spare part. They don’t make me feel like one, never have, even when we were young. But at the end of the day, I am one. I need a life of my own. I can still share theirs, but I definitely need one of my own. Whatever fits my wants and desires.

I leave two days later. “I’ll FaceTime you and the boys,” I tell Evie, who is crying at my telling her.

“Why, Xan? Why are you going? Is it me? Are you fed up with the tears?”

“No, Kitten, I’ve got business to sort, as well as lots of women to attend to.” I laugh. “Now you’ve taken Marcus Russell totally and utterly off the market, someone has to bear the burden. Keep our band image up.” She doesn’t laugh along with me.

“I knew you’d go, I just didn’t think it would be so soon. Are you coming back for Christmas?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

I kiss her, closing my eyes as I do. Leaving my lips on her skin longer than I should.

She gasps out a little, and looks into my eyes. I know I’m hiding nothing. Everything I feel for her is there.

But then I shutter my gaze. I can’t give in now.

“Xander, I'm sorry,” she whispers.

I shake my head. “Don’t be. We should be happy, we have these two,” I say quietly, moving to stand next to the crib they’re both in. “They’ll be too big to put together soon. I wonder which one will shout the loudest?” When I look over at her, her face is blank. And I can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not.

Marcus is not so nice.

“You’re leaving us? I cannot fucking believe it. I knew it. I can’t go to London and sneak off now, and my fucking mother will want us to go to Yorkshire. We can’t go there without you. Evie will kill her if you’re not there to rein her in.”

He is not rational at times. And I’m annoyed with him. It’s his fucking family.

“Well, get Rowena to see you in London. You can go to the London house, stay for tea and leave. You better stop your mother, though, if she starts with the polite insults. You’ll end up with so much pain if you don’t stop her early. Evie won’t go and see her and you’ll be nagged to death about the twins and James.”

“Fuck me. Women.” He rolls his eyes. “Evie’s got the nanny waiting in Devon for us. But you’re right. As soon as the kids can fly, which is very soon, we’ll go to London then Devon,” he states confidently.

I leave for London, letting Jonno know I’m coming, and telling him I need to go out. I remember the first time he took me to his club. We’d just met back up with Evie, and Marcus was acting crazy, obsessed with meeting up with her after so many years of searching. Acting like the lovesick teenager she’d left behind at eighteen. He was welcome to try and make up for the full eighteen years in a night. I’d had no plans to wait around for him without company of my own.