by Abigail Cole
“When can we see him?” Dax asks, wearing a clean t-shirt Wyatt had grabbed before bringing the car around.
“He’s asleep right now, we can call you when he comes to if you all want to go home to rest.” He suggests.
“No.” We answer in unison. Shrugging, the doctor adjusts the stethoscope around his neck and eyes Wyatt suspiciously.
“Did you get attacked too? I heard it was only one,” the fair-haired doctor points to Wyatt’s blue and purple nose. Garrett’s laugh ringing out is music to my ears, drawing me to join him until we are all laughing together. Even Wyatt.
“No, it’s fine. She did this,” he points to me and the doctor moves away as if I’m a vicious animal primed to harm anyone too close. Leaving us, we turn back to the private waiting area. Wyatt insisted Huxley had a private room and received the upmost care, no matter the cost. There’s even a free coffee machine in here, which is probably the only reason half of them are awake. Returning to the seat I vacated, Dax resumes his position on the floor between my legs for me to finish braiding his hair. I’m halfway through so one side is neatly cornrowed and the other is a wild afro, giving him a crazy professor vibe.
“Where did you learn to braid like this?” Dax asks as I use my fingernail to separate his hair into sections, using the hair band I’ve found in my pocket to secure the unneeded part out of the way. Luckily, Dax’s coarse hair stays in the plaits without need for bands to secure the ends.
“There was an African girl at the orphanage for a short while. She had the most beautiful chocolate afro. She was young though, only around 5 years old at the time, so she was adopted pretty quickly.” Beginning to braid, I notice Wyatt has edged closer.
“I didn’t know you were previously adopted,” he murmurs.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Wyatt.” I offer him a half smile to show there’s no venom in my words, just the truth. Exhaling loudly, the weight of everything begins to pull me under again as I try to think of what to do next and come up blank. But what I do know is if any of these guys are put in harm’s way again, I will happily offer myself up to keep them safe.
Wyatt
“Avery!” Meg runs into the waiting room in her grubby sports uniform and throws herself into Avery’s arms. Luckily, Axel had managed to snatch the polystyrene cup of steaming tea from the blonde’s hands before the attack. “I couldn’t reach your phone so I went to the house. The police told me you were here, what happened?” Avery walks her friend over to the seats, and I don’t miss the strange look she gives me. Her pale blue eyes were a mix of longing and hate which confuses me, until I remember how I used her at the club for information. Dax chuckles beside me, attempting to hide his sniggers with his hand when I look over.
“What’s got into you?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he answers too quickly but I’m not in the mood for petty games right now. I listen intently to Avery relay her version of events again, having already heard it once when she gave her police statement but curious if she tells Meg any details she previously missed out.
“Wait, where was your mum?” Avery asks, Meg’s brow furrowing. That question had been burning in my mind too, why hadn’t there been any sign of the therapist after all? Was she part of the ambush or was she tied up in a trunk somewhere?
“You sent her an email to reschedule,” Meg replies clearly confused, pulling out her phone to show a screenshot of the email proving her point.
“I didn’t send that!” I take my own phone from my pocket, unlocking it and handing it over to Avery since she dropped hers somewhere between her being chased by a gun-wielding maniac and falling ten feet into a bush. After a quick search, she gasps and holds her hand to her mouth. “It’s in my sent box, but I promise I didn’t write this. I must have been hacked!”
I can’t sit here helplessly anymore. Pushing to my feet, I take my phone back and start to pace. “These guys are clearly pros and are targeting us for a specific reason. We need to get back to the house, maybe we can find something the police overlooked.”
“There’s no use Wyatt,” Garrett sighs, his brown hair flopping forward as he hangs his head in his hands.
“Well I can’t do nothing! Huxley was shot and we need to know why.” Glancing to Avery, her face full of guilt and I know she’s blaming herself for this. Hell, probably a week ago I would have done the same, but things are different now. There’s a real threat to be dealt with. “This is about more than just money or they could have taken me.”
Perhaps if my father would answer any of the dozens of voicemails I’ve left him since arriving at the hospital, we might have a better idea about what is going on. But it looks like I’m going to have to step up as big brother and take care of this shit myself, unless I expect my men to sit around waiting for another attack.
“Okay fine, if you think it’s worth a shot then let’s go. Hux will be asleep for a while yet anyway.” Dax stands to join me, flanked by Axel and Garrett. This is what The Shadowed Souls is all about, we stand together without needing convincing. If one of us is on board, we all are.
“I’ll stay and wait for him to wake up,” Avery says softly. Her usually bright eyes had dimmed with grief as she hugs her knees up into her chest on the chair. Huxley’s yellow college sweatshirt hangs from her frame, after I’d run to grab a handful of clothing before leaving the house earlier. The sleeves hang uselessly over her hands as she buries her face in them.
“Don’t let her out of your sight,” I demand of Meg roughly. Her nostrils flare with the pissed-off look she gives me before turning her attention back to Avery. The others linger behind to say goodbye but impatience for answers forces me out of the waiting room and down the hall. A nurse leaves a patient’s room to my left, revealing a sleeping figure I recognise as the door closes slowly. Unable to help myself, I catch the door and slip inside.
The regular bleeps on a heartbeat monitor fill the quiet space, next to a UV drip connected to Hux’s inner arm. A cream cover is tucked tightly around his abdomen, leaving a huge white dressing on display across his left shoulder and pec. Bruises are beginning to ripen over his body, with a nasty looking one taking up residence under his right eye. He would look peaceful in his slumber if it weren’t for the pull between his eyebrows. Moving closer, I use my thumb to smooth out the crease until his forehead relaxes. Strands of his hair on the left side are matted with blood, as well as a splattering across his cheek and ear.
Finding a cloth on a nearby sink, I wet the material with lukewarm water and return to clean the part of his face the doctors and nurses clearly missed. But to be honest, there was a gaping hole in his collarbone that required their full attention so I’ll forgive them. Wiping gently, I erase the blood specks from existence as if they were never there. Carefully, I push my finger into the cloth to clean inside the shell of his ear and then rub the ends of his blonde hair in the material too. It’s not perfect, but its better. Remembering my need to search the house, I promise to be back soon and leave him to rest.
Pulling the door closed softly, I take one last glance at the man I love like a brother through the glass window before leaving. Emerging into the car park, I jog over to the orange Nissan and slide into the passenger’s seat. Dax is behind the wheel, tapping his thumbs on it anxiously while Garrett is comforting Axel in the back seat with a hug that looks more like a lover’s embrace than brotherly reassurance. Punching the top of the speed limit the entire way back, Dax swerves around bends and run traffic lights as they just switch to red to get us back within ten minutes.
There is no guard on the main gates, so I have to jump out to enter the code myself. The grounds are unusually still, as if not even the wildlife or breeze wants to disrupt the scene of the house. The police are long gone, leaving us to clean up the mess. Crushed glass and fragments of the ceiling are scattered across the wooden flooring of the living room, the shattered chandelier lying uselessly by the kitchen archway. We manoeuvre our way across the room to head towards
my father’s office first, after having agreed this would be the best starting point during the drive back.
Opening the mahogany door, I lead the way into the vast space that holds a robust desk in the centre with a desktop, framed photo and brass lamp on top, a plush leather chair sitting behind it. To the right is a Persian rug beneath two black armchairs that sit in front of the fireplace. The only other furniture in the room are a whiskey cabinet and a sideboard in the same rich wood colour as the desk. Rounding the computer first, my eyes fall onto the framed picture of mom, Avery and myself on a bright summer’s day. Avery’s blonde hair is shining brightly as my mother smiles widely and hugs us both. Sorrow grips me at the photoshopped image, wishing I had pulled my head out of my ass long enough to sit for a real one.
Powering up the computer, I’m greeted with a password-protected screen. I try a variety of memorable words and numbers, from our names to their wedding anniversary and everyone’s individual birthdays, but nothing works. Pulling out the top drawer of the desk, I start to dig through piles of paperwork in search for anything irregular. Invoices, account statements, a cheque book, personalized stationery but nothing of use to me. Sifting through the second drawers without any luck, I try to pull the bottom one out but it’s locked. Kneeling down, I notice a small keyhole in the top left corner which I couldn’t see from above.
“Hey guys, can you help me with this?” I ask the others, pulling them away from their investigation of the sideboard. They all take a turn tugging on the handle before believing me that the drawer is in fact locked – idiots. Dax attempts to pick the lock with a straightened paperclip like in some movie, unsurprisingly with no avail. Gare returns to the sideboard to collect a letter opener, sliding it between the drawers to jimmy the lock free. It takes his force with our strength yanking the handle to pop the wood free.
Inside is a pile of complete rubbish. A Father’s Day card from Avery, a Christmas bauble I’d painted in the first grade, a newspaper article from our basketball championships last year, a box of cigars, an origami dragon which, sure, is pretty cool, but it’s all total shit. Why would he lock up this junk rather than the paperwork relating to his work? Removing all of the contents, I look for signs of a false bottom in the wood or a hidden compartment. Huffing, I stuff everything back inside and push the drawer closed, but a sound catches my ear. Pulling and pushing the handle back and forth several more times, the faint muffled noise repeats each time.
“Do you guys hear that?” I ask, pulling the drawer all the way out. With the help of Axel, I hold the box above my head to find a small brown envelope taped underneath.
“What is it?” Garrett asks stupidly as I stand looking at the exact same envelope he is. Opening the flap, I pull out a squared piece of glossy paper displaying an image in black and white. Inside the crumpled picture, the fuzzy outline of two heads and bodies mirror each other, with the caption ‘Catherine Hughes – Piedmont Atlanta Hospital. 03-11-2001’ printed across the top.
“This was four months before I was born.” I say quietly, trying to comprehend what I’m looking at. No one else says a word, staring at the image in confusion. “I suppose I was meant to be a twin. Maybe that’s why my parents were so eager to adopt a child in need of a good home.” I shrug. It makes sense, I’ve always wondered how it seemed natural to them to accept Avery into our family. But why would my father hide this instead of telling me or adding it to his third drawer junk pile?
Lying in bed that night, staring at the ceiling in the dark, thoughts race through my mind. We didn’t find anything else of interest in the office, the study or the bedrooms. I don’t know what I thought we might uncover, but those intruders knew something I’m clearly missing. If I could understand why they wanted Avery, the adopted child over the legit one, then I might be able to protect her better next time.
My father’s words from the night of the funeral have also been running through my mind on repeat. “It is imperative Avery is cared for.” Did he know she was in danger, is that why I’m actually here? Surely if he had been honest with me, we could have been prepared and Huxley wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed right now. It would be super helpful if he would answer my fucking phone calls so I could ask him all this properly.
Unable to lie here any longer, I pull my lounge pants on and head into the house. Meg drove Avery back earlier, after she was able to have some time with Huxley when he finally came to. Thankfully, I managed to call in a cleaning crew so the house was in a semi-normal state when she returned, although I think we are all feeling on edge being back here. Taking the stairs two at a time, I open Avery’s door to check on her. My heart plummets when I find her bed empty, running inside to check the walk-in closet and bathroom. Emerging on the other side, I find her curled up in Hux’s bed with dried tears plastered in lines down her cheeks.
When my gang started to grow attached to Avery, I’d hated it. I hated that they could chat to her easily, connect with her in a way I will never be able to. Even though those facts are still true, I appreciate that she’s bonded with them and also feels the missing presence that should be lighting up this room right now.
Walking across the room, I lift the cover and slip in. Shifting in her sleep and glancing up at me through crack eyelids, I feel the moment her body stiffens in shock to my presence. I’m pretty shocked at myself but I want to be able to comfort her in this moment. Everyone else in this damn house get to so why can’t I? Refusing to let the piece of paper that binds us keep my feelings for her at a distance in a time like this, I slip my arms around her slender frame. Pulling her into my body, Avery’s hair tickles my shoulder as she snuggles her face into my chest and I place a kiss on the top of her head.
“Just for tonight,” I murmur, more to myself than her.
Huxley
Stepping into the mansion feels surreal. It’s only been two days, but it feels like a lifetime since I was here, having been through multiple x-rays, a surgery and pumped with morphine. My arm is held to my chest in a tight sling to support my collar-bone and already from merely leaving the hospital and walking in here, I’m exhausted. My feet begin to drag as I shuffle towards the staircase as Garrett slides out of the kitchen to help me. I wrap my right arm around his shoulders to lean against him when he lifts me clean off the floor. I bark a laugh at his impressive strength which sends a sharp slice of pain through my shoulder. Placing me down at the top of the stairs, I force myself to walk the last 20 feet to my bedroom door.
Opening the door for me, my eyes land on the angel lying upon my bed. Her blonde hair pools around her as she sleeps peacefully. Avery has been with me at the hospital for most of the past 48 hours, spoon feeding me despite my fully functioning right hand and cuddling up to my good side. She had insisted on coming back early to get my room ready – and it looks fucking perfect.
“She’s been sleeping in here each night, wanting to feel closer to you.” Garrett winks, flashing his dimples at me as he leaves. Wyatt appears with my bag in his hand, after having parked the car, throwing it across the floor and closing the door behind me. Moving further into the room, Avery’s eyes flutter open and her bright smile makes the past few days completely worth it.
“You’re back.” Avery rises to greet me, kneeling on the duvet. I twist to sit on the bed with a huff, each movement feeling taxing on my usually strong body. Tender hands slowly push their way around my stomach from behind as she rests her head on my good shoulder. “I’m so thankful for you saving me,” she whispers into my ear and placing a kiss onto my neck.
“If this is leading to a ‘thank you blowjob’, can I stick a pin in it to redeem at another time?” Her laughter lifts my heart as she lowers me onto my back, but she doesn’t outright say no. Removing my shoes, she flicks on the TV and snuggles up to me. Sleep begins to pull me back under but I’m eager to stay in Avery’s company. Her curves are pressed against me in an oversized nightshirt, her bare leg hooked over mine in the flannel pyjamas I’ve been wearing for two days
.
“Hey sweetheart, would you be able to run me a bath when I wake up?” I breathe heavily as the darkness takes me away before I can hear the response. The next thing I know, Avery is gently shaking my arms as I wake from the most peaceful sleep, thanks to the lasting effects of the painkillers I was given before leaving the hospital.
“Your bath is ready,” she smiles sweetly, helping me out of bed. I feel much more rested and better now, not that I’ll be telling Avery as she leads me into our shared bathroom and begins to unbutton my long-sleeved pyjama top. Smoothing her hands beneath the red checked material, her lips brush my neck as she tiptoes up to push the top over my shoulders with extreme care. The dressing taped to my chest is huge in comparison to the size of the bullet hole, but that’ll work in my favour for the sympathy vote.
“Enjoy your soak,” she breathes into my ear, licking the lobe before strolling towards her bedroom with swaying hips.
“Aren’t you going to help me pull my trousers down?” I ask, readjusting my stiff erection. At least that still works. She smiles over her shoulder at me, battering her blue eyes as she opens the door to reveal a topless Dax on the other side. He winks and blows me a kiss before side stepping Avery to advance on me. “Actually, I think I’ll manage,” I say in a light tone. My room back on campus is a no clothes zone so these guys are no strangers to seeing me naked. Shaking my pants down, Dax helps me into the tub, careful not to get my dressing wet as I relax in the bubbly warm water.
“How are you feeling?” Dax asks from his position perched on the sink’s counter.
“I’m alright man,” I lie, “just trying to focus on getting my strength back. Keep moving forward, right? Besides, this is gonna be a killer scar one day.” He chuckles along with me but doesn’t say anything else, allowing me to rest my head back and try to relax. I know my role in our group, to be the easy-going cheery one and I’m determined not to let that slip. But the truth is, I was fine before I re-entered this house, now I’m not so sure. Avery reappears a short while later with a jug in her hand to wash my hair, massaging my scalp with frothy shampoo before rinsing it all out.
