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After Leander was discharged from the hospital, and after he’d given a brief statement to Easton PD, we went home to the mansion. Despite the fact it wasn’t entirely finished from the renovations, it felt more secure than the teal house in town, with its wrought iron fencing and security cameras. Under threat of physical pain, Elijah and Jake came too, though they wisely chose the apartment over the garage rather than stay under the same roof as Leander.
The days in the immediate aftermath were mostly a blur.
We drifted around each other like ghosts. Leander didn’t speak, even after I knew his eardrum healed and he could hear me just fine. He refused to eat. It didn’t matter if I did the cooking, or if it was Elijah. To make matters worse, Leander didn’t sleep, either. At least when Olivia had been mourning Cole, I knew what stage of grief she was in at any given time. With Leander, I had no fucking clue, and that was unnerving.
I often found him awake at odd times, in odd parts of the house, doing particularly odd things. Cleaning, re-organizing the library, sorting through a hundred and fifty years of photographs and family documents, repotting plants in the conservatory and outside in the garden shed. Anything, it seemed, to keep from sleeping. Anything that was a solitary activity, I should say. If it could even remotely involve me, he promptly found a way to remove himself from the situation and hole up in a different part of the mansion.
I learned to orbit around him, taking different stairs when I heard him coming, even making sure I stayed on a different level. It was easier to hide from him than to face the devastation on his face.
Keeping my distance in the conservatory, I was halfway through another bottle of bourbon when I heard the first glass break. Freezing in place, I waited to see if it was an accident. But then Number Two and Three shattered.
By the time I made it to the kitchen, all of the teacups were destroyed and he’d started in on the the saucers. Since I was more of a coffee guy, I let him have at it. Besides, it would be easier to replace the whole set than try and match a couple of pieces.
Leaning against the archway, I took another pull from my bottle, watching him hurl a tiny plate against the wall.
When he saw me, he spiked the remaining plate on the black-and-white tiled floor. “Don’t!”
“Don’t what?” I spread my arms, itching for a fight. It might not have been the healthiest coping mechanism, but if he was screaming at me, then at least I’d know what he was thinking, what he was feeling. It was better than the cold darkness I’d been living with.
“Stand there and say ‘I told you so.’”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Marchese!” Leander shouted the name, tears running down his face. “This ismyfault. This whole fucking thing!Ipaid for Marchese’s death which meansIgot them killed!”
His admission hit me hard. I wanted to believe him when he said he wasn’t involved in the hit on Marchese. But then again, he neversaidhe wasn’t involved. He simply said the problem fixed itself. Becausehefucking fixed it. Even after Cole’s funeral, I didn’t want to believe Leander was responsible for any of this. I’d refused to ask him, preferring to live in denial. But now, he ripped that away from me too.
Anger unfurled inside of me, igniting on the fumes of the bourbon. I nodded, fixing him with an accusatory glare. “Yeah. You’re right. Youdidget them killed.”
The next plate came at my head. I barely had time to turn my face from the shards of china flying through the air.
“Butyouknew!” he screamed at me, hurling another plate. It, too, shattered on the wall next to me, flinging fragmented bits everywhere. “You knew and yet you stood by! You didn’t do a damn thing about it!”
“What was I supposed to do?! You lied to me without lying. Your trademark move.” At least I was able to bite my words off before “Fucking hypocrite” came out of my mouth. The cocktail of tranqs and painkillers, mixed with the bourbon, made my movements slower than usual. So when I shrugged with a feigned helplessness it was at a mockingly slow pace.
“You have connections! You could have stopped it! Their blood is on your hands just as much as mine!” Leander shouted, prowling back and forth in a circle. “Andyou’rethe one who brought Marchese into our fucking lives to begin with!”
“Yeah, maybe I could have done something. Except… I told you so. I told you you can’t just kill a mob boss. Right over there.” Squinting one eye, I pointed at the dining room and gave him a shitty smirk before gulping down another mouthful of bourbon.
If I’d been sober, I could have blocked his attack. Hell, if I’d been sober, we wouldn’t be having this fight to begin with. But, I wasn’t. So when he launched himself at me, I was completely unprepared.
We crashed to the floor together, his hands twisted in my shirt. The bottle shattered right next to me, sending a shower of glass and alcohol over us both.
I tried to push him off, but he wouldn’t let go. We rolled over one another, straight into the broken glass. Jagged shards pierced through our clothing, compounded by the sting of alcohol. I ended up on top, but not for long.
Leander threw his elbow against my jaw, sending me flying to the side. As soon as my weight cleared him, he was on top of me again, one hand holding me down while the other punched repeatedly at any spot he could find.
I blocked what blows I could with my forearms, but he was wild and unpredictable. As soon as I was able, I arched my back and threw my hips up and to the side, knocking him off. I rolled with him and straddled his waist, trying to ignore the chunks of glass digging into my knees.
Grabbing his shirt with both hands, I yanked him up before slamming him into the ground. It might not have been the best thing for his concussion, but I needed a way to end this without actually doing serious damage. Besides, he could afford to lose a few brain cells. Might even the playing field between us.
The fight went out of him, along with whatever air was in his lungs. His hands fell to the sides and he squeezed his eyes shut, his chest heaving.
“Are you fucking finished?” I panted, preparing for the next hit all the same.
He swallowed thickly, but didn’t answer.
Climbing off of him slowly, I scooted backward and slumped against the wall.
