55. Chapter Fifty Four

Chapter Fifty Four

W henever I think it can't get any worse, my finger slips on the laptop mousepad and it gets so much fucking worse. It started with curiosity. Within an hour, I was consumed.

Avery did come to me last night, freshly showered and unconscious within seconds. I cradled her body, inhaling her hair, but I couldn't sleep.

I'm in recovery, confined to my room and the one time I leave - I let Avery suck me off. Guilt racks my mind. I don't want her to feel indebted to me. I'd have taken a bullet for anyone in that house, and despite Garrett's offering, I wouldn't have expected any sexual favors in return. It should be the same with Avery.

And add to that the fact that I'm currently useless physically, possibly mentally, there was nothing else to do but hold her all night, wide awake and fully aware of my downfalls. If I'm not the bodyguard of the group, who am I and what use am I to anyone?

So here I am. Out of my room, as far as the dining table and trying to help in the only way I can. Investigation. Clicking on the next website, my stomach rolls. It's a necessary evil - to know who may have ill intent towards Avery, I need to understand her. To know about her life before and after her adoption.

I close my eyes, needing a moment to focus on breathing before my lungs seize up. I need to know every fact. Every sickening detail. Which is the only reason I find myself clicking onto the next article.

First Look Exclusive: See the childhood home of adopted Hope Hughes.

That's what the media called her at first, before they knew her real name. I've read through many articles which described Wyatt as a spoiled, problem child, and referred to Avery as the Hughes' new ‘hope' at their perfect family becoming complete. Did Wyatt know at that time? Did he know the entire world was labeling him, turning on him. Their relationship never stood a chance to be based on anything other than hatred .

Scrolling down, image after image sprawls beneath the headline, a small house with boarded windows and multiple locks on the door. Mess litters the floor in each room, most of which consists of beer cans and dirty clothing. Furniture has been shoved aside, a sign of a struggle. Is that where the police apprehended him? Then there's where Avery was kept. Not a room, but a closet, with soiled sheets and scratches in the wooden walls. My stomach rolls.

If only I'd known. I watched Wyatt scare her, force her to relive past traumas. And every time, Avery would bounce back with twice the vigor as before. I didn't want to consider the anguish she felt. None of us did. We wanted to live in a world where Wyatt's anger was fleeting, where his hatred was biased and unjust, and no one would really dare to hurt the precious woman who crawls into my bed whimpering at night. She's too precious, too innocent, but fuck me, she's so strong. How she is functioning on a daily basis is a mystery.

But I did know. I read her transcripts. And I still let it happen.

Figures shift around the dining room, people walking past my chair. I pay them no mind, until a shadow leans over my shoulder.

"Whatcha doing?" Garrett cocks his head. "Is this some new docuseries I should know about?" I huff and shake my head. Sensing me tense, he lowers into the seat at my right. He's read the captions. I keep going. Next image, next page. I scour the words, absorbing Avery's pain as if it lives within the black and white text. Next paragraph, next write-up.

"Woah," Dax comments. I didn't realize he had joined us, or that Axel is in the chair on my other side. "He was released." I've latched onto the same headline as him. Frederick Walters, Avery's father and abuser, was released from prison months ago.

"Oh, hey!" Avery passes by. I quickly slam the laptop shut. "You left your room again!" She pushes through the crowd of bodies, her attention solely on me. Kissing my head, she wraps her arms around my neck. "I knew you could do it."

Tears prick in my eyes. She's praising me for walking down a flight of stairs, but we've never truly appreciated that she's walked through hell. That she walked away from one fuck-up and into the home of another. I've never felt angry with Wyatt before, no matter what he's done. I know in his mind, he feels justified. It's just a little hazing, what's the harm? A little smell of whiskey. A few harsh words. Now I see clearer, and I no longer permit him to taunt her. I stand with Avery.

Twisting, I clench my teeth to hold back a grunt and pull her into my lap.

"Little Swan," I breathe against her neck. She smells sweet, vanilla and honey seeping into my senses. Her hair is in a high bun, a jacket and leggings covering her leotard. Make-up free, her questioning eyes seek out mine. Big and blue. She's the personification of beauty and strength. I can't keep this information from her, or the guilt I'm battling against.

"Your father…did you know he wasn't in prison anymore?" Her eyes harden. Her arms start to fall away from my neck but I don't let them. I need to do this. "He was released months ago. Just before your mom's accident." I hadn't intended to imply a link in those two statements, but now it's out there, everyone's minds are ticking over.

"The letters from Mr. XO," Axel taps his finger on the table in thought. "You've been receiving them since you were adopted, right? He knows your birthday, your likes and dislikes. It makes sense that he could have been writing to you from prison."

"Stop," Avery states coldly. It's too late to put the lid back on this can of worms.

"Now he's free, and he's escalating. He's seen you with us. It's classic obsessive behavior." Dax adds, his hand curling around her nape protectively. We're caging her in, stopping her from bolting, so she removes herself in another way. Staring straight ahead, I'm not sure Avery is even listening to us anymore.

Axel also adds a comforting touch to her thigh, his hazel eyes haunted. "Maybe we should consider that Nixon is on the run. This Walters guy was released, Cathy was killed and you were sent here for safety. Maybe your dad is going after those who he thinks took you away from him."

"Don't call him that," Avery grinds out harshly. We're quickly losing her. But there isn't another time. There might not be any time.

"Do you think Wyatt's on his target list now? What if we all are?" Dax asks, his eyes dropping to my shoulder. I shudder and hug her harder.

"Avery, we need to take you somewhere safe-"

"Stop it! All of you!" Avery shoves her way out of our hold, swiftly moving out of reach. Fury tightens her features as she rounds on me. "You have physio this afternoon, and I have to attend an actual dance practice. Leave the past where it belongs." Garrett stands, tentatively slipping an arm around her lower back. She lets him, her gaze curious but stern.

"Peach, there could be answers here. We can't ignore them." She looks away, straining her neck to the side. I know what she's thinking - when Garrett is the voice of reason, you know it's serious. I turn in my chair, holding out an offered hand. She doesn't take it, but I set aside the hurt that flashes through me. It doesn't matter, I wanted answers and now I'm ready to offer solutions .

"You know I have resources. I can have him dealt with. No one would ever trace it back to you."

Avery scoffs. "I would be first in line for questioning." She analyzes my face, deciding if I'm deadly serious. Realizing I am, her posture stiffens even more. "Don't you dare do anything stupid. We can't get involved in this. There's too much we don't know."

Pushing out of Garrett's hold, he lets her leave. We all watch her storm towards the front door. I almost call after her, wary of the reporters lingering outside about to see her leave unguarded, when I notice Wyatt standing off to the side. His brow is raised, jaw oddly slack as he grabs his jacket and heads after her. The door is closed after them with a definitive slam. As a whole, we exhale.

"Well, what a shit show that was," Garrett rubs the back of his neck. One by one, the guys disperse and I remain, arms laid on either side of the closed laptop.

Avery is in denial. I understand that. She's scared. I recognize that. But I don't have the option to sit by and wait for the next gunman to make his move. Next time, I might not be so lucky and despite Avery's objections, we're already very much involved.