5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

I watch the scene unfold with an odd sense of detachment. Avery fucking Hughes. She's not supposed to be here. She definitely shouldn't be with Garrett and Axel, heading to the gym. Directly into the lion's den where Wyatt will be waiting. What the fuck were they thinking?

"I think I'm in love," Garrett croaks against the ground. Avery stumbles a few steps back, a world's worth of unanswered questions passing her features. Finally turning to run, as instructed, Garrett's hand wraps around her ankle, jerking her to the ground. She hits the concrete hard, but that doesn't impact her tenacity. Kicking, scratching, shrieking. Had it been anyone half as obstinate as Garrett, she might have stood a chance. As it stands, he's army-crawled up her body and is gyrating his crotch into her face, yelling ‘kiss it better'. I can't fully comprehend the ridiculousness of it all when Wyatt's face lights up on the dash display. At my side, Huxley groans and accepts the call.

"Hey man," he attempts to sound relaxed, despite running a hand down his face.

"Hey, I had to circle back. Left my damn phone at the house. I'm just coming up Belfield Drive now. Be there in-" Huxley is out of the driver's seat before Wyatt finishes his sentence and I rush to disconnect the call. Wyatt isn't at the gym, he's barely a road away. I doubt any thought is considered as Axel also abandons the cab, helping to wrangle a struggling Avery into the trunk. Her language is colorful, her skirt hitching up to the waist. Screaming she's going to kill us all, the trunk slams closed and an eerie silence falls over the SUV. No banging, no juddering. I peer back to ask if she's okay when the orange Nissan turning the corner catches my eye. The boys jump back in their seats as Wyatt pulls to a stop by the driver's side window.

"What are you guys doing here…on the side of the road…not in the gym?" Wyatt asks slowly, his brow raised. Huxley flexes his hands on the wheel.

"Just a flat," he bites the inside of his cheek. "It's all sorted now." Wyatt looks over the SUV disbelievingly, keeping his gaze narrowed .

"Okay then. Let's not waste any more of practice sitting out here." Wyatt smoothly drives ahead, finding two parking spaces side by side. The tension in the SUV is crippling as we follow at a snail's pace.

"She's so quiet," Garrett whispers, a pained groan in his voice. "Why is she so quiet?" I catch him in the rearview mirror, rubbing at his reddened and sore eyes.

"How the hell are we going to lie our way out of that?" I jerk my thumb at the invalid. Reversing into a space, Huxley declines to answer either of us. One by one, my best friends slide out of the car, stepping into Wyatt's side. His back is rigidly straight, his foot is tapping the ground. He's pissed.

"You coming?" he scowls at me when I hesitate half out of the door.

"Uh, yeah. I just need to grab my bag. You guys go on ahead." I attempt a cool smile. I can sense Wyatt's irritated groan rather than hear it, and he refuses to move. Slinking around the back, I open the trunk, locking eyes with Avery. Her arms are crossed, her scowl an exact replica of Nixon's and Wyatt's. Reaching over her, I grab my duffle bag from within the junk Huxley left in here, hovering over her face.

"I'm going to leave the trunk popped open. You need to get out of here. The gym is Wyatt's domain. If he catches you anywhere nearby- "

"No, thank you." Avery states matter-of-factly, crystal clarity in her blue eyes. I trip over my words.

"No…you don't want to be let out of the trunk?"

"No, thank you," Avery repeats. "I want to lie right here and stew in my hatred for Wyatt and his stupid friends and all the stupid shit in my life that he is responsible for." My mouth opens and closes a few times.

"That's the most passive-aggressive thing-"

"Dax! Come on!" Wyatt storms towards me. Avery laughs bitterly.

"Daddy's calling," she muses just as Wyatt slams the trunk closed without looking down. I know he doesn't hear it under the skid of his sneakers, but Avery's small, mocking laugh follows us. I sigh, shoving my hands into my jean pockets while Wyatt's hand clamps around my nape. He urges me into the gym where I ignore the receptionist and head for the staircase.

On the level below, I empty the contents of my locker out onto the wooden bench in the middle of the room. My jersey, shorts, sneakers, and hand towel. As I change, my back turned away from the rest of the team, Wyatt takes my day clothes, anally slapping the wrinkles out and folding them until they fit perfectly back into my locker.

"Head in the game," he nudges my shoulder. In Wyatt's language, it's practically a hug. "We can't let those fuckers from Radley get too comfortable on top." He leaves me for a moment of solace, but I don't let myself linger. Tying my laces, I'm running out on the court for the last few drills. Huxley throws the ball hard into my chest, his hands raised for me to reciprocate.

"Well? Did you get rid of it?" he leans in, his chocolate eyes boring into me. I give a quick shake of my head, throwing the ball back. We sidestep and duck under the next pair throwing their ball over head and repeat. We keep going until there's a comfortable warmth burning through our calves, then Wyatt barks out formations to try. It's not as easy as usual, given that Garrett is sitting in the stands with Axel applying a cold compress to his face.

At least the whole team is present today, including the subs who normally spend each game on the bench. I suppose it's helpful for them to get some practice in while Garrett isn't showboating across the court. We work the newbies hard, repeating the same moves until they can get their feet moving quick enough.

Waversea has a reputation for a winning basketball team, most going on to play professionally. Playing ball is just a release for me, a way to stay close to those I've come to call family. Us five shared a room at boarding school and it was no mistake we all got into the same university. I'm sure it had much to do with Wyatt pulling strings. We're his family; any one of us being left behind wasn't an option .

"Completely pathetic," Wyatt scowls at the end of our allocated time on the court. The netball girls have already begun to filter in, posing on the bleachers in an attempt to get our attention. A few offer to take care of Garrett's weeping eyes, the promise of nurse's outfits being mentioned. Axel shoos them away, guiding Garrett into the locker room like a blind man.

The subs of the team have the good sense to grab their stuff and leave. They'd be the first to feel his wrath. Wyatt kicks the metal gate blocking off the supply closet. I feel the jarring sound down my bones, opting to shower beside Huxley rather than engage.

"He's not handling her presence here very well," Huxley groans quietly. I face the tile, lathering up and washing off.

"Has he even seen her yet?" I ask. Huxley shuts off the faucet, chewing his inner cheek.

"No. And we need to keep it that way."

"For both of their sakes. There's only so many injuries I can keep up with." Axel mutters, handing us both a towel. Due to his goal of being a sports physiotherapist, he's the one attending to all of the sprained ankles and cramps on the court, and repercussions of the fights between the team behind closed doors. Wyatt's a ball buster - it doesn't always rub off well with the subs .

"You'd better keep a tighter leash on Garrett then," I sigh. He tries to object as we re-enter the main section of the room. Wyatt is lifting Garrett's chin, peering at him with clinical awareness.

"An oil spray, huh? I don't know what kind of car oil can burn this way. I'll have a doctor at the house for when we get back." Wyatt withdraws his hand before he notices the way Garrett is leaning into his touch, seeking a trace of affection from the one man who refuses to indulge him. Axel takes that mantle most of the time, and when he's unavailable, I draw the line at some light spooning.

Wyatt turns to the rest of us, grabbing his bag. He doesn't bother changing since he'll be heading to the gym and for a swim any moment now. "If he can't play the Fresher's Rally next weekend, we'll have to decide which sub to train up in his place."

"Yes boss." Huxley grumbles, dragging his pants on. Wyatt's eyes close briefly, a long exhale escaping him.

"Look guys," he runs his hands through his dark hair. "I just need something to focus on. I know I'm not the easiest to live with right now. I'll…work on it." I nod, Axel pats his back while Garrett wraps his arms around Wyatt's waist.

"It's okay, Riot." Garrett nuzzles his hip. I crack a smile at the childhood nickname, noting the tension that eases from Wyatt's shoulders. He pries Garrett off with a soft chuckle.

"You're lucky you're cute." Wyatt leaves, shaking his head at himself while Garrett lights up with reddened heart eyes. I'm pretty sure Wyatt just made his entire year. Huxley shoves my clothes into my chest, reminding me there's a captive in the trunk we should release. I groan, explaining that she wanted to be left there. She's got her phone, a cookie and water from lunch. She might have decided to take a nap for all I know.

The four of us head out, spotting Wyatt setting up beside the running machine, headphones on and head bopping. He loves exercise at the best of times, but it's common knowledge Wyatt works out his stress through physical exhaustion. It's usually around each holiday when he's been forced to return home or every Wednesday after his mom would call. I wonder what he'll do on those afternoons now.

Exiting the gym, Huxley stops dead. I slam into his back, quickly followed by Garrett and Axel in mine. "The fuck," I grumble, extracting myself from the Dax sandwich I unknowingly entered into, then I see it. Huxley's SUV, exactly where we left it, its windscreen, lights, and windows smashed in. The glossy white paint has been scratched and dented in numerous places. A crowbar I'd barely registered in the trunk has been artfully placed on the dash.

"No, no, no, no," Huxley babbles, suddenly rushing forward and almost being run over. I wave an apology to the oncoming car, the rest of us close behind. "The tires. The leather," Huxley whimpers from behind his hand. I stare inside at the torn material, then to the back where Avery seems to have kicked the seats out. I have to hand it to her, this goes way above passive aggressive. Peering through his sore eyes, Garrett bursts out laughing.

"Oh please, please, please let me be the one to punish her!"

"Punish who?" Wyatt's voice says from behind, his steps slowing. We all turn in unison, side stepping as if we could block his view of the damage. "These were dropped in my bag," he produces the SUV's keys and throws them at Huxley. "What…the fuck happened here?"

"I… There…" I swallow hard. "I'm sure there have been reports of rabid raccoons on campus." Huxley over-nods in agreement.

"Oh yeah, nasty buggers those things!" We both murmur words like, ‘horrid', ‘disgusting', but Wyatt tilts his head.

"Raccoon's carved a giant ‘F U' into the hood of your car?" His dark eyes settle on Huxley. I feel the moment he's about to crack, but it's Garrett who breaks first. Damn Wyatt and his teasing compliments.

"It was Avery! She followed and attacked me! Pepper sprayed me right on the sidewalk, I was defenseless. She must have stalked the SUV all the way here. You're right Riot, she's batshit crazy!" My mouth drops open and I shoot Garrett a wide-eyed look. Wyatt barely reacts, minus the vein in his temple which throbs when he's exceedingly mad. Coolly walking over to his Nissan, his dark eyes appear black.

"I'll handle this," is all he says, dropping into the driver's seat and speeding away. Both Axel and I slap the back of Garrett's head.

"What the fuck?! What were you thinking?" I half-shout, drawing a small crowd of spectators now. Garrett has no right to look sheepish, but he does and shrugs anyway.

"Better her than us, right?" I've known Garrett for years, I know his mind and ways. Yet I can't believe he's feigning innocence in this. I grind my teeth together, taking off on foot.

"Wait, Dax," Axel calls. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to find her before Wyatt does!" Breaking out into a full run, turbulent emotions crash within my chest. Why did it have to be her, from my English Lit class? Why couldn't she just be a simple, nice girl? One that could have possibly been mine. Heavy pounding falls into step with mine, and I look in surprise to see Huxley at my side. "Dude, what about your car?"

"That's Garrett's mess to fix. When it comes to keeping Wyatt out of jail, I'm with you." Dread drags me down, the very real possibility of what we might find setting in. Surely Wyatt wouldn't really hurt her in all the ways he's described. Surely it was all talk…