36. Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Five

I smile at Meg for the hundredth time as we get ready for dinner. I still can't believe she's here at Huxley's home. Hell, I can't believe I'm really here. A uniformed butler brought my bags up to our room a while ago, and not just the one from the plane. Apparently, while we were in the air, Huxley had his driver heading in the opposite direction to pack up our belongings from Waversea and bring them here.

"I couldn't pass up the chance to join in this crazy adventure you've got yourself on." I try to hide my smirk but her hold on my hair doesn't give me anywhere to go. I'm sitting at the vanity table in the expansive en-suite bathroom as Meg braids my hair down the back of my head and over my shoulder.

I've caught Meg up on most of what I've been up to lately. The ball, the note for Mr. XO, my awkward dinner with Nixon and the sex club. Divulging anything non-emotional and non-confusing is easy. It's the rest I'm struggling to put into words. I wouldn't even know how to explain that I drunkenly invaded Wyatt's hotel room and hugged him. Meg would think I've lost my damn mind, and I'd be inclined to agree.

"You're oddly quiet," Meg raises a brow. "Before we head down, it would be helpful to know where your head is at. Spill the tea, Aves. Is Huxley officially your new man?" We share a knowing, mischievous look.

"Well, I mean, they're all holding my attention. It would be detrimental to select just one," I bite down on my bottom lip and my cheeks flame for the second time today. Meg's hands still, her blue eyes flying to mine in the mirror.

"Slut!" She grins wide. "I love this new you. You're so confident."

"For the record, none of this was orchestrated by me. It's all on them. They seem sort of obsessed with sharing me. Except for Wyatt, obviously."

" Obviously ," Meg echoes. I drop my gaze to my lap. The more I think about Wyatt, the more blurred the lines become. My memory is tricking me, creating emotions and seeing expressions that weren't there. I never thought I would prefer him hating me for the sake of it. It was safer that way, but at least Meg is here now to keep me from doing anything stupid.

Finishing my braid with hairspray to keep the fly-aways in place, I join Meg by the door in a pair of dark, skinny jeans. There was much debate on what we should wear to dinner, and settled on causal. Up top, I have a simple white t-shirt beneath a pale pink blazer. Meg opted for a black jumpsuit. Then sparked the shoe debate and ultimately, I'm not ready to be slip-sliding around in bed socks. Pushing my feet into a pair of ankle-boots in the same blush pink, we make our way to the bottom level. I can hear Garrett's laugh and decide if I follow that, I'll either find the kitchen or the dining room.

Everyone is already seated when we approach the vast mahogany table. Despite the six other chairs down the far end, the guys have all opted to sit close together. A space has been left either side of Huxley at the head of the table. I automatically walk to the one between him and Dax, putting Wyatt out of my eyeline on Dax's other side. Meg sits beside Axel with Garrett on the end. He's the only one already eating.

"Wine?" Huxley offers. I nod, basking in his relaxed smile. The ends of his blond hair are curled more than usual, as if he's taken the time to dry and style it. A black t-shirt hugs his chest and biceps, the swirl of black ink dancing across his arms. Even his breathing seems more focused than I remember, a steady rise and fall of his chest distracting me from the menu being placed in my hands. He's so at ease here, not a care in the world as he asks the butler to fill my glass. A true King of his castle.

"A menu?" Meg snorts, peering at me over hers. "Is this a home or a five star restaurant?" Huxley's brown eyes slide from me to Meg, a hint of amusement in his half-shrug.

"I don't stay here often so I called in a chef to feed us for the next week. He brought his own team and a whole range of menus."

"Thank fuck for disgustingly rich friends," Garrett says around a mouthful of soup and bread. A few murmured laughs sound around the table, one radiating from Huxley himself. Everyone falls into a comfortable silence to glance over the food choices, but I can't stop myself from frowning behind the laminated card. If we weren't here, would Huxley be sitting alone? Is that why he doesn't stay here often and prefers to spend his time at Waversea?

Once we've placed our orders with a pretty, young waitress dressed in black and white, Meg decides one glass of wine is enough to start voicing every question she has burning inside.

"So, the Shadowed Souls, huh?" She says to no one in particular. "What makes each one of you worthy of the ink and title?" I gasp at Meg's audacity and kick her beneath the table.

"Megan! You can't ask that outright!"

"Maybe you can't," she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "I don't think anyone really cares what I do and as the only member of your chosen family present, it's my job to vet these guys out. See who's worthy of you."

"Can't argue with that," Dax tilts his head towards me. I can't share his smile, my eyebrows are too busy pinching together.

"You really don't have to indulge her," I warn. A large, warm hand slides over my thigh in an effort to reassure me it's okay. Dax turns his attention to Meg.

"I was raised by the most incredible woman, but I don't have a single memory where she wasn't sick. Everything we had went on her healthcare, and ultimately her funeral. I already had my scholarship before she passed, and Wyatt pulled some strings for me to board at the school rather than be lost in the care system. He's been covering any shortfalls in my funding ever since so I can stay at Waversea."

My breath is held in my chest, my jaw beginning to ache as I hold back the desire to cry. I didn't know any of that, but words are useless when everyone is present. Instead, I place my hand on Dax's beneath the table. He automatically links our fingers. Even when his heart is bleeding, Dax refuses to let his small smile drop away. Meg thanks Dax for his honesty, and turns her eyes on Huxley. He huffs a laugh, widening his legs to touch my knee.

"I became emancipated from my parents when I discovered they were stealing from me." My eyebrows hit my hairline and after a moment of surprise, Huxley seems to remember I've been rather sheltered. "I was a child model and played a few small parts in various shows and movies." Further down the table, Garrett coughs the word ‘modest' into his fist. Huxley ignores him again, keeping his attention on me.

"Anyway, I won this residence in court since it was my money that paid for it. Wyatt helped me along the way, lent me your family lawyer when I didn't have access to my own. Without him, I would have been stonewalled every step of the way."

I barely have time to register as the other two chip in their stories in quick succession, starting with Axel.

"Pops died of cancer when I was fourteen. My mom whored me out to pay for her luxurious lifestyle." Axel rushes out his words, as if that wasn't the worst two sentences to have ever been muttered. Sighing deeply, he fidgets with the tablecloth. "Wyatt was the first to notice, and banned me from going home in the holidays. In all my times of weakness, he always remained the strong, stoic one. "

I wish I had the guts to lean forward and read Wyatt's expression right now. As it stands, I'm ramrod straight, frozen in my seat and it appears to be Garrett's turn.

"My parents were travel enthusiasts," Garrett carves a pattern through his soup with his spoon. For the first time that I've seen, there's food in front of him and he's not devouring it. "They loved traveling so much, sometimes they were gone for months. Sometimes they forgot they'd left their son at home to fend for himself."

My stomach turns to lead. Garrett without a smile and a joke at the ready is a travesty, but his expression right now is enough to convince me he's never truly laughed before. The sharp lines of his face are taunt, his brown gaze haunted. Garrett lets the curtain on his dark hair fall forward to avoid looking at me.

"When the money they'd left ran out, I grew too weak to go to school. That's when people started to ask the right questions and the police came to visit. I was removed from my home that day and I haven't seen my parents since."

"You've never wanted to confront them?" Dax asks, joining the conversation. I presume this isn't a usual discussion for the five of them. Garrett rolls his neck until it cracks, further stressing that he's uncomfortable.

"I won't waste a minute of my life on those people. They're getting what they deserve, locked up behind bars." Spearing his forgotten bread roll with a steak knife, Garrett's smile returns as he looks at Wyatt, but there's no kindness behind it. "Nothing that a couple years of the best therapy money can buy to heal paternal trauma, right Riot?" Tipping his glass towards Wyatt's, Garrett downs his wine in one gulp. I read between the lines.

"I see there's an interlinking theme in all of this," I breathe to myself. Our conversation is paused by the arrival of our food, the plates lowered in complete, stale silence. Garrett picks up his fork but pauses, staring at his salmon. Whatever caused him to hesitate passes within a second, his boyish grin finding me across the tableware.

"Bon Appetit," he winks and dives in. Personally, I've lost my appetite but I try to smile back. Axel's attention is elsewhere, aimed at the far window. Meg has yet to move, her skeptical eyes watching the only person present that I can't see.

"And you, Wyatt?" she asks, twisting her lips. I know that look, she's re-evaluating. "What did you need the Shadowed Souls for?" His answer comes immediately, with the same pissed-off tone I'm used to hearing.

"My family replaced me, so I created one that wouldn't."

Beneath the table, I briefly grip Dax's hand harder. I need strength. After everything I've just heard, of how Wyatt was everyone's saving grace except mine, a cold tendril of misery carves through my chest. If only he accepted me, our lives could have been so different. In another universe, he could have been a rock for me to lean on too. Puffing out my cheeks, I try to dislodge this overwhelming feeling that will inevitably make me cry.

"For what it's worth," I angle my head around Dax, "I am sorry." I see Wyatt's outline shrug and his fork clatters against his plate.

"Don't be. I wouldn't trade the men at this table for the world." Garrett's smile turns genuine at this, like a puppy who's just been praised. It's too cute not to enjoy, but Wyatt isn't done yet. "I never would have tried to run away from them like you did."

Meg's eyes snap to mine like a laser, all-too-knowing.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Huxley queries first, his legs tensing as he sits upright.

"Our dinner with Nixon. Avery was begging to leave Waversea."

"You want to leave Waversea?" Axel asks, his presence back with us at the table. I try not to wriggle under his hazel gaze, although inside, I'm scrambling for the words.

"No. I mean, I want to go home, yes. I never wanted to leave Hughes manor in the first place, but it's not as black and white as Wyatt is making it sound."

"Her actual words were that she wanted to be alone again. That there are too many distractions at Waversea. "

"Distractions," Dax murmurs to himself. He retracts his hand from my thigh. I wasn't prepared for how deeply such a simple act could cut, but it hurts. The ache in my chest is amplified when he pushes away from the table and leaves. Now Wyatt is in my eyeline, and I would give anything to wipe the smug smirk off his face. He was looking for a way to get his friends to turn on me, he's been biding his time, and here it is. Huxley's eyes are full of pity as he skids his chair back too.

"I'll go after him." Garrett is next, but not because of Wyatt's revelation. He's simply finished eating and gestures for Axel to follow him. I try to reason with myself that he just needs some time, that discussing his childhood is a sore spot that he needs Axel to soothe away again. That leaves myself, Meg and the asshole glaring at me as if this was all my fault.

"Couldn't help yourself, could you?" I scrunch a napkin in my hand and toss it at him. Without waiting around for what is sure to be another dig at my personality, I storm away. Taking the stairs two at a time, my chest heaves. Why is Wyatt so convinced I'm the villain in his mind? He's created a version of me that doesn't exist, and twists everything to fit his narrative.

Turning a corner, I skid to a stop, realizing I have no idea where I'm going. Shadows move within a room down the hall, the door just ajar. I sigh heavily, hoping to catch Dax before Wyatt appears to hammer the final nail in the coffin. He wants me gone, and this is the closest he's come to succeeding so far.

Tentatively, I push the door open. My breath catches in my throat.