38. Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Thirty Seven

T rudging through a muddy patch, I curse my shoe choice under my breath. What Axel neglected to say when giving me directions is that I'd be going on a magical mystery tour through a mile of greenery. The hedges are too high to see that I'm not going in circles, and I'm sure I took a wrong turn because the paved walkway came to a sudden stop three rose bushes ago.

Coming to a halt, I look back, contemplating leaving Dax's apology until tomorrow. He might not want to see me anyway. After all of the effort he's put into our joint assignment, into accompanying me to my counseling sessions, even just to help me get through each day, and I called him a distraction, I begged to live alone once more. Well, I've had a cold dose of what that would be like and it's clearer than ever, the grass isn't always greener on the other side. A tender pressure between my legs and a heavy heart show I can't go back. I'm ruined. I just hope I still have a choice in the matter.

Through the moonlight leaves, a rustle catches my attention. I didn't see it at first, but now it's moved, I can make out the silhouette. Tall and clearly a man's. It moves again, darting away.

"Hey!" I call, taking chase. No doubt Axel followed me to make sure I went the right way. So why not just reveal himself? Unless this is part of a game, in which case, it's much more likely to be Garrett stalking around in the shadows. I thought they'd thoroughly tired themselves out. My heels slow me down, my blazer whipping against the wind I create. Pumping my arms, I spot a gap in the branches ahead.

"Sorry about this Hux," I mutter, throwing myself through the hedge. Twigs claw at my hair but I make it to the other side in one piece. Putting myself ahead of whoever I seem to be chasing, he haphazardly collides with me. I'm spun away, forced to face the paved path. A hand clamps over my mouth. Oh, we're playing this game.

I wriggle, but there's no real fight in my jerky movements. Hot breath fans over my ear, the low sound of a rattle just underneath. A smoker, I'd hazard a guess. Unease trickles through me, sending a shiver down my spine.

Suddenly, I don't want any part of whatever this is. I kick back, struggling with earnest now but the assailant's grip tightens, immobilizing me. I twist as much as I'm able, releasing a scream against the large palm covering my mouth. My head turns inward, hoping to get a clue of his identity in the dark when it hits me. The unmistakable, overpowering and sickening scent of whiskey.

That fucker.

I squirm harder, adrenaline passing through my veins. Like fuel to the fire, my unbridled hatred for Wyatt spurs me on. I suppose he sat at the dinner table, having a good laugh at my expense whilst drinking himself into oblivion and thinking up new ways to torture me. From the pounding of my heart, he'd be glad to know he's succeeded.

I continue to struggle, refusing to let him hold this over my head at the breakfast table tomorrow. As his grip on my mouth loosens minutely, I seize my opportunity; it's now or never. With a muffled scream, I bite down on the hand covering my mouth as hard as I can. There's no holding back, years of frustration crashing down between my teeth and the fleshy part between his thumb and index finger.

He barely grunts in pain, grabbing a fistful of my hair in his other hand and dragging my mouth free. I cry out too late, my body free falling as I'm flung to the ground. I hit the ground with such force, a flash of light bursts behind my eyelids. His feet beat against the pavement as he flees, taking the pussy's route back to the mansion. I grimace after him, vowing to get my revenge later. Meg will help me think of something far more creative and malicious than I would come up with on my own.

Licking my split lip, I push myself upright. I'm utterly lost now and my only hope is to follow the way Wyatt fled. The path seems longer this way, curving around to finally give me an open view of the gardens. An outcrop framed by a low stone wall looks over a multitude of garden sculptures and in the center of them, exactly what I've been searching for. I can't contain my sigh of relief.

Illuminated by lights, the fountain stands tall and proud, water pouring from the mouths of intricately carved mythical creatures into a large basin. Its white marble gleams in the moonlight. In the center, the figure of a woman stretches her arms upward, as if reaching for the stars themselves. I rush down the stone steps, following the sound of bubbling water. A shadow sits on the edge, a hand lowered to tease the water with his fingers. I'm so thankful Dax is still here, that my steps quicken and I don't realize until I'm almost upon him that he's not alone.

"Oh shit," I skid to a stop. "I'm sorry, I can leave." Both heads turn my way and Huxley stands .

"Avery?" He frowns at me. "What the hell happened to you?" I follow his eyeline to see my white top is caked with mud, and the distinct taste of blood lingers in my mouth from my lip. I fake a smile, waving off his concern.

"I'm fine. Nothing I can't deal with later." Huxley looks like he wants to argue further but allows me to pass him and settle next to Dax. My body is angled away from the fountain, whereas his is facing inwards. The lights flood his face, picking out the sharpness of his jaw and Adams apple against his smooth tanned skin. His blue eyes are intense, tracking the marble carvings with intrigue. I may be biased, but I think my view is better.

"Dax…" I breathe, now unsure of what to say. He's not like the others. He can't be distracted by physical affection until he forgets there was a problem to begin with. On the flip side, I can't just tell him what he wants to hear. Dax deserves the truth, even if it's not pretty or simple. Tentatively, I take Dax's hand in mine and at least he doesn't retract it.

"It's not you," Dax says without looking at me. I stutter, looking to Huxley for context. Instead, the blond sits behind me, his large hands resting on my waist. His fingers rub soothing circles into my back, transporting me back to a time before all this. Before confusion and emotional territory, when I could convince myself this was all just a bit of fun .

"I-I don't understand."

Dax turns to face me. "The problem isn't you. It's me."

"How is the problem you? Wyatt was right, I did beg to go back home."

"Which you have every right to do. The problem is what I felt at the thought of you leaving. I shouldn't feel so cut up when I don't even have any sort of relationship with you." I can only blink at him, wading through the swamp of emotion swimming in his gaze.

"Dax, I…"

"It's okay, Avery." Dax cuts in, pulling his hand back to rub his neck. "You see me as a friend and nothing more. And that's okay. I just…" he trails off, looking towards the fountain again. "I know things aren't easy with you and Wyatt being under the same roof, but it's not all been bad. I guess I got my hopes up that you might want to stick around for a while longer at least. I thought there was more time." He stops short, jaw clenching as if to rein in further words.

"Come here," I reach for his shoulders and turn him to face me. Taking his face in my hands, I force Dax to get out of his head and focus on the words I'm saying. "Let me explain before you start jumping to your own conclusions." Huxley pushes closer too, his chest against my back to listen in too .

"I love hanging out with you guys. No two days are the same, and I enjoy the calm ones as much as Garrett's batshit crazy parades. But…I'm also confused by what's going on here. There's only one of me and four of you. I just can't be enough for each of you, so it's difficult not to feel expendable. Like a passing fad to be dropped when someone better comes along. I was merely protecting myself."

Dax's expression slips into something akin to devastation. Huxley tenses behind me, a sigh dropping his forehead onto my shoulder.

"Ahh fuck, Little Swan. If you don't know how we feel about you, then that's on us." The dynamic changes in an instant, my body being pulled and eased into a Dax and Huxley sandwich. Their heat seeps into me, chasing away a chill I didn't realize I had. My mouth lowers into the curve of Dax's neck, stinging from the cut I forgot was there.

"None of us do anything conventionally," Dax whispers to me. I inhale him, savoring his sea mineral smell, his touch. He holds me so gently, whereas Huxley is glued to my back. The arms around my waist squeeze tight as if I might disappear.

"You're not a passing fad. We all saw how special you were the moment you pepper sprayed Garrett, and we've been falling ever since," Huxley mutters. I suck in a breath. I know they're trying to soothe me, tell me what I want to hear but it's having the opposite effect. All I feel is more certain I can't be enough.

"Look, I know it's fun competing with each other for my attention but…falling?" I try to pull back. Neither let me so I sigh and melt back into their hold. "How am I supposed to deal with this without hurting anyone? I don't want to hurt anyone." Tears spring to my eyes, the fight fleeing from my body. Why am I always in fight or flight mode? Turning to an emotion I prefer, my nostrils flare. "Except Wyatt."

"I wouldn't worry about that," Huxley chuckles into my hair. "Wyatt hurts himself. We love the guy, but once he chooses a standpoint, he won't budge. No matter how much begging, bloodshed or money is thrown his way."

We fall into contemplative silence, the sound of water cascading beside us filling the empty night. I can see why this is Dax's favorite place; it's ideal to sit and think. Everything seems a little less muddled all of a sudden, but that might have more to do with the arms shielding me from the cold than the fountain. They make it seem simple - all I need to do is stick around. Give it a little more time before I try to run back to the life I knew.

"We're not asking for forever," Dax says into the quiet, "but you don't have to worry about being expendable. As long as we hold your interest, you'll be the center of ours."

"Okay," I concede. A weight lifts from my shoulders as I surrender control. I'm not steering this ship, and if Dax says I'm not going to be tossed overboard, I believe him. A yawn tugs at my mouth, the turbulence of the day finally settling in. Huxley laughs, swinging my leg over the lip of the fountain.

"Come on, time for bed." Understatement of the century. I dully remember Meg is patiently waiting for me. This was supposed to be our fall break. I can't let her down. Huxley guides us back to the mansion in under half the time it took me to venture across the gardens, and Dax's hand remains in mine the entire way. I keep leaning into him, reminding myself that I can be comfortable with just this. The here and now.

Passing the pool, we step through the open French doors to find only one person is still awake. Wyatt is reclined on the sofa, feet up and a book in his hands. I push down the overwhelming urge to dive on him with my fists swinging, and instead I smack his book so it hits him in the face.

"You're absolutely pathetic. I hope you know that," I raise my chin and walk away, Dax's hand still in mine. Wyatt yells a string of curses after me, causing my smile to deepen as I climb the stairs.

"What was that about?" Dax asks, then catches himself as we stop on the top landing. "Actually, don't answer that. Sweet dreams, Little Swan." His lips press against mine in a light caress, careful not to cause any pain to my busted lip. Dax never pushes for more, further cementing that everything's going to be okay. I smile as we break apart.

"Goodnight Dax."

Huxley leads me the rest of the way to my room, where Meg is passed out across the bed, a bottle of wine tucked into her armpit. With a snort, I peck Huxley on the cheek and head inside. Meg mumbles that I have some serious explaining to do when I adjust and tuck her into bed, before heading into the bathroom. I undress, flicking on the shower. Just before the room fills with steam, I lean on the counter to stare at myself in the mirror.

My cheeks are pink, my lip split down the left side. My hair is a rat's nest and my neck has mud splattered across it. Yet I'm smiling, and I feel whole. How the hell is my life this crazy?