by Abigail Cole
“Maybe I’ll get shot more often,” I joke, earning a head shake from Dax across the room.
“I’ll wash your hair for you whenever you like if you promise to never take a bullet for me again. We were so worried about you.” I snort at Avery’s response, knowing full well I would step into the firing line for her a thousand times over if it meant she would be safe. She leaves again as Dax carries over a fluffy towel from the heated towel rack and uses his upper body strength to lift me from the tub. Wiping the suds from his chest first, he then wraps the towel around my waist.
Walking back into my room, Wyatt is placing a stack of pizza boxes onto the dresser with Garrett on his tail carrying plates and a tower of smaller containers containing sides. The two bedside tables have been moved to the foot of the bed and are covered in bottles of soda, plastic cups and dip pots. Axel moves over on the bed after flicking The Fresh Prince of Bel Air onto the mounted TV so I can lounge in the centre.
Despite how Wyatt has been since we arrived here, he has always been the most thoughtful one out of us all. He relishes making others happy even though he will shrug off any praise if we try to give it to him. Opening the box lids, the smells of my favourite meal flood the room as Dax helps me step into some boxers. After fixing the sling back around my neck and left arm, he then helps me to nudge across the bed. Garrett hands me a plate piled high with pizza slices, garlic bread, chicken wings and wedges with a wink.
We fall into our usual routine, squishing together on the queen size bed with lapful’s of greasy food ready to binge some classic old school TV, but strangely I feel like there is something missing. I glance around, trying to put my finger on it when I realise it’s not a something, but a someone.
“Where’s Avery?” I ask. Wyatt doesn’t take his focus off the TV, but his frame tenses and I roll my eyes. I thought we were over this shit.
“Maybe we should keep this as just a boys night, like the good old days?” He answers tentatively. None of the others attempt to argue or agree with him, just continuing to eat with their eyes focused straight ahead. And that seriously pisses me off.
“Okay everyone out.” I say loudly, which does grab their attention judging by the wide-eyed gaping expressions I receive. I shove my plate into Axel’s hands and try to shove Garrett off the bed with my feet, but I only end up hurting myself. Pain slices through my tensed shoulder, causing me to groan and clench my teeth.
“Hey, take it easy,” Dax says, placing a hand on the back of my neck but I shake him off, despite the agony it continues to cause me.
“I may be the one who was shot, but Avery has been stalked by these fuckers for months. She was chased through the house by a gunman, for fucks sake. And instead of hiding away, trying to get over all of that, she’s been at the hospital comforting me. So if you can’t include her, then I don’t want any of you here either. Get the fuck out and leave the pizza.”
Hanging their heads low, they all begin to edge out of the room which is actually the opposite I had expected. I’d wanted Wyatt to hang up his vendetta for tonight, for me, and fetch Avery from her room. Despite hugging his plate to his chest, Garrett stares longingly at the pizza, but I give him my angriest stare until he leaves. I’m too irritated to let him take a few boxes, even though I could never eat all of this.
Now I’m alone and not even Will Smith’s hilarious punch lines can make me smile. I’ve never shouted at my brothers before, I don’t even know where it came from. But I suppose I’m not myself right now; I’m in pain, I’m fucking furious for no particular reason and all I want is Avery cuddling me again. Yet I don’t call for her. She shouldn’t see me like this. I’ve been so mellow in the hospital but now I’m back here, I feel apprehensive. What if Avery is in trouble right now? I couldn’t do shit.
Wyatt told me he has hired extra guards to stalk the grounds for any sign of the intruders, or how they managed to get on and off of the property without being seen. Since he still isn’t able to contact Nixon, it’s the best he can do in the circumstances. Although, I’m close to suggesting we book some flights and take Avery back to Waversea with us. Maybe she’d enjoy the campus life and enrol for a course, but I know she’d never leave Meg behind. Meg is more than her best friend, she’s had Avery’s back through all of her healing over the years and I understand the need to remain close by.
A soft knock sounds against my bathroom door just as it opens, and I don’t need to look to see who it is. I smell her honey and vanilla scent before she kneels beside the bed, her big beautiful eyes looking up at me with worry. “Axel said you might need some female company.” Not just any female, this one specifically but I can’t tell her that.
“I don’t know what came over me Avery, I kinda lost it with them.” I hang my head, annoyed at myself. She rounds the bed and strokes her fingers up and down my chest gently. I wanted all of us here, it feels right when we are all together but I’m too stubborn to say it out loud.
“Trauma is a funny thing. We may think we have a handle on it, or that it’s buried so deeply it almost doesn’t exist. But when you least expect it, that damaged part of you will come to the surface until you face it head on.” A tear leaks from my eye so I look away from her, desperate for her not to think I’m weak. Her soft hand moves across my cheek and pulls me back to face her. “You never have to hide your pain from me. Now can we eat, I’m starving.” She grins and I find myself copying.
Avery hands me back my plate of food before bending forward to grab the one Wyatt had left behind. Her perfectly rounded ass covered in pink frilly panties peeks out from beneath the nightshirt, my mouth drying up at the sight. A shadow pacing back and forth under the doorframe catches my attention, causing me to chuckle. “Come in Garrett, the food’s going cold.” I shout, the action pulling on my throat uncomfortably.
The door bursts open with a loud bang and Gare rushes in with his empty plate like a lion pouncing on its prey. The noises between his grunts and lips smacking around a slice of pizza he’s barely lifted from the box are disturbing to say the least, but Avery finds it humorous. Her giggles distract him, like a deer in the headlights as he whips his eyes towards her.
“Shh,” I whisper, “you don’t want to spook him or he might attack us.” My chest has eased and a full smile stretches across my face as I feel semi-normal again. Avery coos and strokes a spot of the cover in front of her in slow circles. Gare, taking full advantage of her attention, cocks his head back and forth before rounding the bed and curling up by her crossed legs, pizza box in hand. She strokes her fingers through his hair as we eat and watch TV. Despite half of the guys missing, this feels better because if Avery is by my side, I don’t need to worry about her being in trouble. And call me selfish, I just want to have her around.
Avery
My phone begins to vibrate from underneath the pillow and I quickly grab it as not to wake Huxley. He didn’t seem to sleep well last night, and between his flinches and gasps, I didn’t get much sleep either. But I’d still prefer to be in here with him than alone in my bed. I don’t feel safe in there since Dax found the rope leading up to my balcony, not that I’ve voiced my concerns to any of the boys. Even Wyatt has seemed stressed about the whole situation, so I don’t want to add any more pressure to the mix.
Slipping into the bathroom, the phone rings out so look at myself in the mirror, knowing she’ll ring again any second. There’s dark circles under my eyes and my hair looks like a bird’s nest upon my head. My phone starts to vibrate in my hand again, so I instantly answer Meg’s call. “Hey Mog, sorry I forgot to call you back last night.” This the first weekend Meg and I have spent apart since we met, but with the house not being safe and Huxley needing a feminine touch amongst the high testosterone around here, I thought it best if she stayed home. Besides, it’s my fault he was injured so the least I can do is give him my full care and attention.
“Don’t worry about it. How are you? I hope you’re making time for yourself too and not just looking after
everyone else.” She instantly chastises me, causing me to smile. I’ve never had a sister, but if I could choose one – it would be this caring, thoughtful, compassionate goof ball of a human being every damn time.
“Of course I am. But it doesn’t seem right you aren’t here on a Sunday! Do you want to come over? I’ve had an idea to get us all together, I think Huxley needs it.” Her bark of a laugh sounds down the receiver.
“Oh sure, Huxley needs it. AKA, you can drool over the five hottest guys on the planet all at once.” She continues to giggle, but I can’t deny her words.
“Erm, excuse me – four of the hottest guys, one of them is technically my brother.” I protest, knowing deep down I can’t deny to myself how right it felt lying in Wyatt’s arms the other night. Meg’s only response is a ‘mmhmm’ that means she knows I’m full of shit. “Hey, you were the one lusting over Wyatt when you thought he wrote poetry,” I laugh right back at her and she instantly goes silent.
“Bitch. I’ll be right over.” Hanging up the phone, I smile as I call Susie to see if she can do some quick food shopping for me. I know she hates being forced to stay home, and although I had despised Wyatt for it in the beginning, I now agree it’s for the best. She’s been keeping busy though, asking the driver Jenson to collect our washing for her and spending it back with containers of lasagnes or pies. She sounds overjoyed to be given a task before I hang up to check Huxley is still asleep before slipping into the shower.
Snuggling into his rock-hard chest and perfectly deep V every night has been a delicious kind of torture, I muse to myself as I rub the shower gel over my body. Every nerve ending is alive at the thought of his chocolate eyes, the way he teases his tongue piercing between his teeth, his- ugh, I need to get a hold of myself.
Leaving the almost scolding spray, I wrap a towel around my body and head into my bedroom. The door to my walk-in wardrobe is open and I’m sure I didn’t leave it that way last night so I walk backwards into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door as my heart slams in my chest. Clutching the towel around myself, I run out of Huxley’s room, down the hall and into Dax’s without knocking, knowing Axel will be asleep and Garrett will probably be in the kitchen.
“Can you come into my room with me, I can’t remember if I shut my wardrobe door but now it’s open and-“ Dax throws his laptop aside and jumps up from his bed, grabbing a baseball bat from under his bed. “Where did you get that?” I ask, having to jog down the hallway to keep up with his long strides. His blonde afro bounces with each step, the darkened muscles in his back tensed, which I can’t stop staring at since he’s only wearing some sweatpants.
“We’ve all got one now, and our numbers are on your speed dial. Call me straight away next time.” He stops outside my door, holding me back with his hand before twisting the handle. Nudging the door open with his foot, since both hands are gripping the bat balancing on his shoulder, Dax walks into the room. I peek around the corner, scared to breathe as he walks on silent feet to the back of the room.
A figure steps out of the wardrobe as Dax nears it, causing me to jump. Swinging his bat on instinct, Wyatt jumps back just in time or he might have had a broken femur. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he shouts and I relax, striding into the room.
“Why were you in my closet?” I demand, holding the towel tightly in place. His green eyes flick to the detailed tattoos beneath my upper arms before returning to my face. My eyes glance to his abs as his jeans ride low on his hips and I swear these guys are trying to kill me from pent up sexual frustration by never wearing damn shirts.
“My orange hoodie with the fleece inner lining is missing. Since you are always wearing everyone else’s clothing, I thought you might have it. I came to ask but you were in the shower,” his vexed expression doesn’t shift as he tries to force a confession out of me.
“Trust me, I’d rather go naked than wear your clothing.” I shouldn’t have said that. “I saw Garrett wearing an orange hoodie yesterday, does it have a pocket across the front?” The vein in his forehead pulses as he pushes past me, shouting Garrett’s name as he enters the hallway. I run to grab said hoodie out from under my bed and race to throw it over the balcony.
“Oh, actually I think it might be outside,” I shout as I close the French door and stand beside Dax again. His eyebrow is cocked as he shakes his head at me, but then he breaks into a smile. “I didn’t know it was his.” I confess, although that’s not the full truth. I truly hadn’t thought it was Wyatt’s hoodie when I grabbed it from the pile of fresh washing, until I put it on and his scent enveloped me, and then I couldn’t take it off. It smelt like everything spicy and masculine and forbidden, so I had a guilty-pleasure moment I will never think of again. Except now I can’t stop thinking about it, fuck.
A crack of thunder outside the window is the only signal of a storm before the fierce pounding of rain beats against the glass. Looking back over to the balcony, the sheet of fat raindrops is so thick, I can’t even see the pool house. Double fuck. I just about hear Wyatt shouting obscenities from downstairs over the racket which causes Dax to rush from the room. As he reaches the door, I remember my plan for this afternoon.
“Hey wait! I wanted to do something for Huxley, so can you please get everyone to meet in the kitchen at 1pm? And keep Garrett out until then.” Dax’s shoulders drop and he gives me a look that says ‘are you serious?’ but I smile sweetly and flutter my eyelashes until his face agrees.
“You’re lucky you’re hot,” he says before disappearing. I frown at the sexist comment but shrug it off, quickly changing into a teal t-shirt and some booty-hugging jeans. Slipping my feet into Ugg style slippers, I brush out my drying hair and walk downstairs just as Meg is walking up them.
“Wow, look at you,” her eyebrows lift as she rubs my exposed upper arms in her hands. Planting a kiss on her cheek, I turn Meg by the shoulders and guide her into the kitchen. The middle island is lined with filled tote bags, the head of a broccoli sticking out of the closest one. Peeking into the bags, I see Susie managed to get everything I requested in such a short space of time.
“Tell me you didn’t call me here just to cook,” she asks as I hand her one of Susie’s aprons and don one myself. I wink at her and start to pull ingredients out of the bags, ignoring her groaning as she pulls her denim jacket off to reveal a black vest beneath. Her brown hair is in a loose plait down her back, distressed black jeans hugging her toned legs. Maybe I should take up lacrosse, I wonder, appreciating her firm arse but then I remember I’m more of the dance and yoga type.
Connecting her phone to the Bluetooth speaker on top of the fridge, she is finally ready to join me. Washing my hands, I give Meg instructions on each element of the meal and we get to it. The music switches from some R&B to heavy rock and back to some country as our merged playlists play on shuffle, allowing us to dance, head bang and sing around the kitchen as we stir boiling pans and whisk up batter.
At exactly 1pm, Garrett rushes in practically drooling with his chest heaving. I point him over to the dining table with my wooden spoon, which is laid with the Christmas red and white polka dot table cover. Glasses of champagne sit in front of each napkin that’s twisted around a knife and fork, except for Huxley’s who has an orange juice due to the meds he is still taking for the pain. Wyatt strolls in, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth at the sight and my heart aches. Mum would have loved him being here like this.
Dax swans in next, inhaling deeply at the aromas filling the room. Axel has his arm around Huxley as the pair bring up the rear, moving around the table to take their seats so we can serve the classic English roast we’ve prepared. Meg was pretty clueless about all of the trimmings, but I’ve now educated her on each one. Carrying over a jug of gravy and a huge serving bowl, Wyatt scrunches his bruised nose up. “What the fuck is that?” he points at the bowl as I place it down in the centre.
“You’re joking right? It’s a Yorkshire pudding, the holy grail of a Sunday Roast.” He g
rumbles that a pudding should be served after the meal as Meg places his and Huxley’s plates in front of them.
“Oh, shut up and get it in your face.” I roll my eyes, heading back for the next two plates. I’ve piled twice as much on Garrett’s, with extra beef slices, roast potatoes, veg, parsnips and stuffing, which he squeals at like a schoolgirl when I put it down. Once everyone is served, Meg and I carry over our own and sit down opposite each other on the end, Huxley on my left and Dax on her right. Ignoring Garrett’s overly sexual moans as he digs straight in, the rest of us clink glasses before eating.
The room is filled with a quietened random selection of music emanating from the speaker as we all eat in a comfortable silence. I can’t help to smile over at the glint of happiness in Huxley’s eyes again as he nudges his pre-cut meat around the plate with the fork in his right hand.
Axel had told me the full story of Huxley’s outburst last night, wanting me to join in with everyone. My heart had lighted knowing he enjoyed my company so much, but I was also worried he could suddenly push his boys away so easily. We need the people we love closer than ever after going through suffering like he has the past few days, so I will be the bigger person to make the effort and bring us all together if that’s what it takes. Because if someone like Huxley can be lost to the darkness within, then there’s no hope for the rest of us.
Meg
Holy crap, I am stuffed. Cooking is yet another one of Avery’s many talents, and she truly outdid herself today. I was merely here for support and pan stirring. The conversation around the table has been light while I’ve completely ignored Wyatt’s probing stare this entire time. A twisting in my gut tells me that he knows of the catfishing situation and is silently laughing at me, because why would someone like him actually want someone like me?
