*.*.*.*.*.*

When I enter my house, dad turns around to look at me. His smile falls when he sees my face, which obviously looks like it belongs to a little baby; I have a tendency to look really childish when I cry.

I sniff, not meeting his gaze as I slump onto the living room couch and wait for him to approach me. No matter how grown-up I am -- yes, I'm seventeen -- I'll always be my dad's little girl. He slowly walks towards me, wiping his hand on his flowery apron which clearly should not be worn by any man alive. Ever.

"Is everything all right?" Dad asks softly, sitting down next to me.

"No," I say, picking on my nails.

"What happened?"

I sigh, slumping my shoulders further.

"Xavier's mad at me," I tell him. "He's angry that I didn't tell him what I saw. You know, about his dad." I look up. "He said his father is dead. But I saw him, I ... I don't know, I just saw."

"Maybe you just thought that man you saw was his father but it was someone else," dad suggests. "Could be foster parents."

"But he called him 'dad'," I counter. "And then ... why would he be mad at me now if that man wasn't his father? He could just tell me I was wrong and ... we'd go back to normal. He doesn't have to hate me because I made a mistake."

"Oh, honey, I'm sure he doesn't hate you."

"He looked at me like ... like I betrayed him," I confess in a small voice. "He looked at me like I was a stranger, dad, not his friend. I ... I felt so bad."

Dad puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer, so that I place my head on his chest, fighting back the tears that are the edge of my eyes.

"I'm sure he just needs some time to himself," dad comforts me. "He'll come around when he sees you only meant well by keeping this secret."

"I didn't keep it secret, I just didn't tell him."

"That is keeping it secret."

I sit up suddenly. "Whose side are you on again?" I ask my dad, frowning at him grumpily.

"I'm on the right side," he says innocently, putting both his hands up in surrender.

"I asked you what I should do but you didn't help me then," I remind him. "You're in on this, you hear me? You're just as much to blame."

Dad chuckles at my childish blame-placing. I'm sure he's wondering how I can act like this. I'm wondering the same thing.

"Do you think he'll see I meant well?" I ask uncertainly. "I feel bad, yes, but it's not like I pity him. Do you think he'll listen?"

"Of course, dear." Dad beams at me. "Nobody can be mad at you for long."

I ponder over his words, resisting an urge to say 'yeah, you like me because you're my dad'. He's usually right about things, my dad. The only thing he was ever wrong about was mom. He thought she would stay forever. She didn't. He thought she wouldn't leave us. She did.

"Now, come along, lunch is getting cold," dad says, getting to his feet and straightening the hideous apron. "We can share one serving now and you can eat the rest with Xavier when he comes at night. Food always solves everything. Besides, he might like Chinese. Has he ever told you?"

"Do you think he'll come?" I ask dad, ignoring his playful tone. "I asked him and he didn't give me a proper answer. What if he doesn't come, dad? What if ..."

"Okay, stop. Don't begin with those 'what ifs', okay? Those never end well, you know that."

Lowering my eyes to my hands, I sit still. Xavier's face flashes before my eyes, the look of hurt in his eyes, the pale tinge in his skin, the confused frown ...

"What if he doesn't want to be friends anymore?" I mumble to myself.

"Then it's his loss," dad says.

I roll my eyes, not comforted in the least.

"Honey, look," dad says softly. "He probably just needs time to digest the fact that you know his secret. Whatever it is, I'm sure he'll come around. And if he doesn't, you can always try calling him to talk to him."

"Can I call him now?" I ask, looking up suddenly.

"Give him time," dad insists. "Let him make sense of things. You owe him that."

As much as I want to call Xavier and apologize, I know dad is right. I should give Xavier the time he needs. And yes, it's pretty freaking hard. My hand is already twitching towards my phone in my pocket. It won't hurt to send just a couple of messages now, would it? I could just send something like 'can we talk?' No, wait, that seems threatening. What if I just say 'hey?' That's harmless enough, right?

"Well?" dad asks me.

I blink a couple of times, brought out of my devious plans of going to my room, texting Xavier, and staring at the phone unblinkingly until I get a response.

"Yes, dad," I say begrudgingly.

"Good. Now come for food. It'll make you feel better."

"You know what else can make me feel better? You burning that ugly apron you're wearing," I say.

He laughs, walking towards the kitchen and I follow, my mind still with Xavier. I just hope he comes tonight. I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't.

*.*.*.*.*.*

You remember just a while ago I said I don't know what I'll do if Xavier doesn't come? Yeah, well, here's what I do -- I sit on the couch waiting like a pathetic little dog without a life.

Because he doesn't come.

"Haley?" dad calls from the kitchen, probably trying to get me to move.

If I didn't know any better, I would think I'm a statue. But I know better, so I can tell you I'm not. I still haven't moved an inch since 7:30 pm, hoping the guy who has robbed me of my peace would be kind enough to show up.

"Baby, give him time," dad says to me from across the living room. "He needs it."

I don't answer, not knowing what to say. How can people want to be alone when they're upset? I would rather be surrounded by a group of obnoxious people, grab a tub of ice-cream, and ugly-cry till they tell me to shut up. And Xavier wants to be alone? Isn't he tired of being alone? He's always alone.

The bell rings just as I glance at the clock. It's already past 9:45 and I wonder who it could be at this time of the night. Anybody who knows us knows my dad has a ten o'clock shut down policy.

"Good evening, sir."

How many things can happen in a split second? I never really paid this question much attention, having thought 'probably not much'. Let me warn you, a lot can happen in one second.

His voice reaches my eardrums, goes to my brain, which goes into override, sending electricity through my entire body, making my heart stop and then start again at double speed, causing my lungs to blast out all the air inside them, and my legs to go numb. I jump to my feet, spin around, widen my eyes, gasp and nearly shout and jump at the same time, freezing again when I actually do see it is who I initially thought it was.

And yes, all of this happens in one tiny second. How ... freaking amazing.

His grey eyes come towards me, and I swallow hard.

'Play it cool, Haley, don't freak him out,' my conscience thankfully perks up, and I obey it.

He looks uncertain and awkward, almost like he did the first time he ever came to my house.

"Can we ... talk?" he asks in a low voice as dad holds the door open for him.

"YES!" I shout, making the house jump around me. "I mean ..." I pull myself together. "Uh ... sure?" I clear my throat.

Dad steps aside to let him in, but instead of stepping over the threshold and coming inside, Xavier turns slowly around and takes a step away. I'm about to call out to him when I see him sit down at the top stair outside my house.

My mouth curls into an 'oh' and I quickly hurry over to the door.

"Dad," I stop next to him, lowering my voice to a desperate whisper. "Please, don't remind us of the curfew today, I beg you. I swear I will follow it till I'm eighty six, just ... not today."

Dad rolls his eyes and nods at the same time. I flash a smile at him before jumping out the door. Looking over my shoulder, I plead with my eyes and dad complies with my unspoken request by closing the door. He might be listening on the other side, but at least I'm alone with Xavier.

"I was ten," his voice startles me, despite being so low I can barely hear it.

Trying not to overreact, I turn my gaze to him where he sits on the step, arms resting on his knees as he stares into the distance, his breath fogging up his vision. I stand awkwardly, wondering if I should sit down or ask him to come inside. The world around us is frozen, glistening with the white snow coating every visible surface.

"When my dad died," he goes on without looking at me.

I don't speak, sitting beside him without making a sound. Outside it is.

"At first it was just me and mom," he says. "And I have to say, it was hard. My dad was a great man, taking care of everything. As for mom, she had always stayed home, so when he was gone, she didn't know what to do. She tried, but it was too much. So she got a job at this ... bar."

He sighs, licking his lower lip and looking down at the ground like he can't even see it. My eyes stay fixed on his handsome face, as I struggle to digest one fact ...

He's talking to me about himself!

But I play it cool.

"At first, it was coming home late," he says. "Then she started bringing along this ... man. He came over sometimes. Then many times. Then ... he never left. He was a cop, she said. And he ... he was okay, I mean ... he got the food and ... my tuition, and he ... he was good to her. He mostly ignored me and I didn't mind. At least my mom was happy. There was just one problem -- he drank. A lot. And soon mom was drinking too. And she was drinking more than him. Then two years ago, he lost his job because of it, and that was the end of our ... almost happy family."

Xavier's voice is so low I can barely hear it. But I don't say it, not wanting him to stop speaking. He's finally saying things that I have never heard him speak. In all honesty, he's speaking more than ever. I think he needs this more than I do. I have a feeling he has never said these things before. Who knows how long he has kept all this inside?

"Money was low and they started fighting. It became routine. It was all I saw. And then one day, he ... he hit her." He closes his eyes and inhales deeply through his nose. "I couldn't take it. So I fought. I fought him and ... we came to an agreement. I told him I would get the money, and he would never hurt my mom. And that went fine too, for a while. I worked and ... he got whatever he wanted. And what he wanted was ... cannabis, heroin, benzo, I ... you probably don't know all this stuff but ... it's drugs. Don't get me wrong, though, he doesn't use them. Not himself."

I frown. Xavier's stepdad gets drugs but he doesn't use them? What does he do with them then? Why would he put Xavier through hell for something he doesn't even need?

"My stepdad doesn't use drugs, Haley ... my mom does."

Okay ... what the fuck?

"I mean ... he got her started on them, I guess. He went to rehab last year, got a bit better. Then he relapsed. Mum never got help, though. She doesn't want it."

I sit frozen and speechless.

"I know what you're thinking." He sighs. "How does all that ... explain what you saw? Well, the deal was ... that I would do whatever he wanted, and he would let my mom do whatever she wanted. So now ... I get the money and food and ... the drugs and ... every time he gets angry, I'm there. I don't resist him beating me because if I did, he would hurt her instead. And I would do anything to avoid that. She's all I've got."

Wait ...

I'm lost.

So ... Xavier provides for his drug-addict mom and his abusive step-dad, and when the abusive step-dad gets angry, he beats Xavier because Xavier asked him not to hurt his drug-addict mom? Wow, can this get any more twisted?

"My life is messed up, I know," Xavier says. "I mean, what have you gotten yourself into, right?.. You can just ... you don't have to see me ever again. I won't even ask why. You can just leave me here right now and I'll never show my face to you ag --"

I don't let Xavier finish. Not by telling him to be quiet, or by slapping him or anything. Instead, I wind my arm through his and put my head on his shoulder, sliding closer. I would love to kiss him right now, but I don't want him to be the one to run away and not look back.

"I'm not going anywhere," I say, hoping he would see what I mean. Xavier does have a way of knowing what I want to say without me saying it. It's like he reads minds.

So we just sit there, side by side, arm in arm, our hearts beating in synch, foggy breaths shining before our eyes. Xavier's stiff body begins to relax slowly and I smile without meaning to. My heart is about to burst with pain, but what hurts me the most is that Xavier has been through so much and survived.

Remember how I said Xavier Hunt is the unreported victim of domestic violence? That he is, but he's also something else.

Xavier Hunt is also an unrecognized hero.

*.*.*.*.*.*