AT THE SAME TIME
XAVIER'S POINT OF VIEW:
I opened the door, and there he was. My father. He stood on the porch, rain dripping from his hair and soaking his expensive coat. His usually sharp features were softened by exhaustion, but his eyes still held that piercing intensity I remembered too well.
"Dad?" I said my voice barely above a whisper.
"Xavier." He said his tone curt. "Can I come in?"
I hesitated. The last time we spoke, I swore I’d never talk to him again. But here he was, drenched and uncharacteristically disorganized, standing in the pouring rain. Where even is his car?
With a sigh, I stepped aside.
"Come in."I said hesitantly.
He walked in, water pooling on the floor beneath him. Isabella appeared from the living room, her eyes widening when she saw him.
"Who’s this?"
