56. Chapter Fifty Five

Chapter Fifty Five

I 'm such a hypocrite. I've been forcing Huxley to rush through his demons and leave his room, and at the first sight of my own trauma, guess where I am? Propped against my headboard, my lap covered in Mr. XO's letters. The box of my mom's things, which is usually tucked beneath the bed, sits on the floor, the lid at an angle. I thought I'd find comfort in handling her perfume bottle, hairbrush, a photo frame with the pair of us in…but no. I didn't. Instead, I turned where I probably shouldn't - the letters.

I've re-read them all, and I'm more certain than ever that the boys are wrong. I know my birth father, and he doesn't speak like this. In my entire childhood, there was never so much as a compliment. I was a brat, the waste of space who ruined his life. Everything was wrong and everything was my fault. These letters are precious, understanding. I'd forgotten all about the one crumpled against my chest right now, and I peel it back to read for the fourth time today.

Avery. Your presence brings so much joy to those lucky enough to be around you. I have written songs I hope to share with you in person someday. I imagine us spending time together, talking about our dreams and passions. I know that if you got to know me, you would feel the same way. Yours, XO.

It's not the most poetic letter I've received, but there's a hidden hope within. A promise of meeting in the future, whoever this person may be. They care about me, and in turn, they've become my secret guilty pleasure. How many nights have I dreamt of a prince charming turning up on the doorstep, prepared to whisk me away from my tower? Too many to let Fredrick Walters sully those memories.

A light knock sounds on my door. I shove the letters into a hasty pile, put them in the box with my mom's stuff and shove it back under the bed. The door pops open a few inches and I'm stunned to see Wyatt standing there.

"Can I come in?"

"Depends what you want to talk about," I pout. I'm being irrational. The information shared downstairs yesterday afternoon wasn't anything new. But I hadn't wanted the guys to know that version of me, especially Wyatt. He has enough ammunition, and despite his opposing perception, I know I'm so much more than my misgivings.

Wyatt steps into the room, remaining close to the exit. He shifts, unsure of where to put his hands. First in his pockets, then out, then pushing through his hair and back down to his jean-clad thighs. I raise a brow, as if I'm not moping around in pink silk pajamas beneath the covers.

"I just wanted to let you know I'm going to be having some people look into the crash, now that new information has come to light." My stomach plummets. Of course the coincidence of my father's release and Cathy's death is too big to ignore, no matter how much I want to bury my head in the sand. If he really is responsible, and the Hughes' are being targeted by association with me, I don't think I'll be able to live with that knowledge. Her blood will be on my hands.

The silence stretches out, and Wyatt seems to feel inclined to fill it. "There might be…questions for you to answer, and I hope you'll cooperate." He's smoothing his hair back again, avoiding my eye contact.

"It's fine, Wyatt. I get it." I chew on my inner cheek, my mind racing while I have Wyatt's attention. "Have you spoken to Nixon at all?" There's a tick in his jaw and he rolls his neck. Apparently that wasn't the right question to ask.

"He's ignoring my calls. "

"Me too," I wince. Exhaling sharply, Wyatt nods and leaves. I sit for a whole three minutes more before deciding the spiral of my thoughts isn't something I can allow to continue.

I need a distraction, and I find it at the kitchen island, a fork in hand and an entire cake on the board in front of him. Fucking animal. Pushing the cake aside, I push myself up onto the countertop, shimmying over so my legs hang either side of Garrett's arms.

"Distract me." His smile is wicked, the strain of yesterday nowhere to be found in his hazel eyes.

"Anytime, Peach."

Huxley's thigh traps me in place as his body radiates an unnatural level of heat. The sunlight is shining beneath black-out curtains to announce the start of a new crisp and winter-filled day, despite the fact I've not had much sleep. My body is exhausted from the back-to-back ballet rehearsals I've been putting in, but with the showcase looming, my mind won't rest. Behind my closed eyes, I either repeat the choreography or slip into a mini dream of falling off stage and breaking an ankle.

Using all of my strength to shift the dead weight of his thigh, I shift up to sit on the bed, looking down at his strong jaw line. A sly smile pulls at his lips. Evidently, this asshole has been awake for a while and has kept me trapped on purpose. Shoving at his chest, he gasps dramatically and holds a hand over his faded bullet scar. What a faker.

"I thought you said you weren't going to hold your injury over me," I tut. Huxley's eyes open to reveal a brief glint of mischief in their brown depths.

"That was for sex. Snuggling is fair game."

"Well aren't you lucky you get both." I comb my fingers through his hair before stroking the stubble lining his jaw. It takes his appearance from surfer boy to blond demi-god and I'm into it. His gaze flicks to my lips, a longing in his eyes I'm eager to fill. Leaning over his broad frame, I hold Huxley's face in my hand and place my lips on his. He instantly responds with a quick kiss that leaves me chasing for more.

"Luckiest man in the world," he grins. A groan sounds from behind me .

"Get a room," Dax mutters into the covers. He is rather cranky in the mornings. My mouth opens to respond when Garrett strolls past the bed, his toothbrush in hand.

"This is their room," he points between Huxley and I. Technically, it's just Huxley's but after the neon party, it quickly became apparent none of us wanted to sleep alone. Hence, the two single beds now pushed against Huxley's four-poster. There's enough mattress space for each of the four men and I'm left hunting for a gap to squeeze into. It's heaven.

Axel exits the bathroom, freshly showered with a towel fastened around his hips. "What do you feel like doing today?" he asks no one in particular. I groan and fall back into the pillow.

"Anything but think about tomorrow night. I need a mental break from Miss Nightingale riding my ass."

"Now there's a mental image I needed," Garrett laughs to himself, disappearing into the recently-vacated bathroom with his toothbrush. I can't muster much of a smile. My legs have begun to tingle, nerves creeping from the tips of my toes to the heavy ball in my chest.

The showcase. The damn showcase that seemed months away and is now almost here. It's not the dance per se; I know the steps, I've got the timing down. It's the audience. It's putting myself in the spotlight, faced with a room of strangers. The only people I'm not worried about watching me bare my soul on stage are those in this room. They'll be my focus, as they have been in each rehearsal. Despite the reporters giving up and leaving weeks ago, I've had a personal entourage to every class, lunch and library study session. The real fun is left for behind closed doors.

Beneath the covers, fingers appear on my feet. Sliding upwards, they skate over my calves and thighs, skimming past the area I tilt for him to touch. A heavy mass crawls up the mattress next, and his shaven head settles onto my stomach. I smile then, absentmindedly stroking Axel's scalp and neck. His weight is a calming presence, stilling the jitters inside. Huxley settles back into my side, Dax's jaw finds the curve of my shoulder. My guys. We all connect on a level of broken that just makes sense for us to try to fix each other. But who said we need fixing? Maybe we can just be .

Although, nothing that is happening in this bed right now is acceptable to Garrett.

"Get out of bed, you lazy fuckers!" he yells, whipping the covers aside. Shoving Axel aside, Garrett has the subtlety of a rhinoceros in grabbing my ankles and roughly yanking me down the bed. Dax and Huxley are up within seconds, diving on Garrett.

"Dude," Huxley gets him in a headlock. "Those legs are precious! "

"What use would a fractured ankle be right now?!" Dax grabs Garrett's knees and squeezes them until he buckles. Axel joins and I sit up to watch a tickling match ensue on the floor.

"Bunch of children," I roll my eyes and attempt to leave. I'm not sure who snatches my waist and tugs me down, but all hands fall to my ribs. I'm screaming, writhing in laughter and kicking out. They don't relent until I'm begging for a pause.

"There's no pauses in life sweetheart," Axel grins over me. His groin is firmly pressed between my legs. Heat consumes me. He leans down to place a kiss on my lips, just as fleeting as Huxley's. These men are going to be the death of me. My lids linger closed a moment too long and when I open them, four sets of eyes are fixed on my flushed cheeks.

"I will never tire of watching my brothers fawn over my girl," Garrett smirks. My brow raises.

"That's very presumptuous of you," I laugh, shifting aside. My hand slips into Garrett's jacket pocket while he's frowning at my face.

"What is?"

"Assuming I'm your girl." Pushing upright, I walk back towards the bathroom. "I mean, I'm not even your phone background." Removing my hand from behind my back, I shake Garrett's phone at him. In fact, his background is a bunny in a spacesuit costume. Cute, weird and completely in character. Stupidly, Garrett doesn't have a passcode lock. "Hmmm, I wonder how many porn subscriptions you have."

"Give it back!" he screams, scrambling to his feet. I shriek, diving into the bathroom and locking the door closed behind me. I'm quick to lock the opposite door too, securing myself inside. My grin couldn't be wider. Let Garrett sweat for a while. I chuckle, tossing his phone onto the counter.

After taking a heated shower and brushing my teeth, I pull on a pair of turquoise leggings and off-the-shoulder sweater. One more day , I think to myself. One more day and I can slob out for the entire Christmas break, eating far too much and watching festive movies. That's as far as my forward planning has gone, considering I don't know what else to do or where I would go.

Typically, I would be freaking out, feeling like I don't have a home. A base to revert back to. But I don't. There's an odd sense of freedom festering inside. It doesn't matter where I end up; the Shadowed Souls will be there for me. Even Wyatt, who hasn't so much as scowled at me in weeks. He's not talking to me either, but on occasion, we can be in the same room without the tension forcing one of us out .

Exiting the room, I'd almost forgotten about Garrett until he pushes away from the wall, scaring the shit out of me.

"And here is the little minx in question," he announces, angling my own phone's screen to reflect a video of myself. I hold a hand up to cover my face. "Don't be shy, Peach. Your first IG Live is a big deal." My footsteps stall and I shoot Garrett an incredulous look.

"Are you insane?!" I hiss under my breath. Garrett's grin grows.

"Amongst other things," he shrugs. "Come say hi to your adoring fans." Holding my phone at a height I can't reach, I jab my elbow into his ribs, all the while keeping my face hidden from view. A few choice words pass my lips and when he continues to record, I make a small jump for my phone. He evades me easily. "Oh, you want this back? Come get it."

"Garrett, I swear to—" I start, but he's already off, ducking into the hallway.

Darting after him, I fly down the stairs at a dangerous speed. So much for protecting my ankles. I hear laughter and Huxley's voice booming, "She's coming for you, man!" The boys are lounging on the couch, but they spring into action as Garrett bolts past them.

"Bear with me, folks! The cameraman is under duress!" Garrett shouts to his audience. Axel tries to grab him, but Garrett slips out of reach, heading towards the kitchen.

"He's heading to the back!" Dax shouts, and we all pivot, changing course like some sort of chaotic, synchronized dance. Garrett's manic laugh echoes as he slides across the kitchen tiles, narrowly avoiding a collision with the counter and filming all the while. I'm right behind him, arm outstretched, my heart pounding. There's no time to enjoy the thrill of the chase. Not when he's being a fucking idiot, broadcasting me across the internet. Anyone could be watching.

"Garrett! You turn that off right now!" I shout. He's stopped on the far side of the island, shifting every time I do in the opposite direction. I glare just as he turns the screen back on me, so I do what anyone would in the same situation. I drop to my knees out of sight. Crawling around the stools, another body meets me there. A body I never would have expected to be on all fours, his green eyes glinting with mischief.

"Follow me, I've got an idea." Wyatt whispers and scuttles away. I'm half-stunned, mildly distracted by Wyatt's jersey slipping out the back door and the kerfuffle happening between Garrett and the others.

Axel and Huxley are cornering Garrett by the refrigerator, some more tickling taking place - most of which is instigated by Axel. Warmth spreads through my chest and I linger for a while longer, enjoying the view. Axel and Garrett are like magnets, drawn together by an irresistible force. They don't even realize how much they need each other, and I'm happy to keep subtly reminding them.

But right now - I'm firmly on the Garrett butt-kicking train. Leaving them to their distractions, I duck out undetected. Cool air hits instantly, my toes feeling the winter the most through my cotton socks. I shudder. It could be a trap, or just a horrible mistake to blindly follow Wyatt, but I can't see that far ahead. Not as the play fighting inside is becoming rough and the shadows are nearing the glass plane.

"Here." Wyatt unravels the coiled hose pipe fixed to the side of the house, and my own menacing smile grows. Pushing a finger against his lips, he turns the faucet as I pull a long length of the pipe free. Words are kept to a minimum, but we're standing in close proximity, intently waiting for our target. The door handle rattles and Wyatt places an arm over my front, urging me a step back from view. Hidden around the corner, my fingers tremble on the hose until I hear the men spill out the door.

Without a particular target in mind, since beggars can't be choosers, I step around the corner and twist the nozzle so a fast jet of water sprays over the lot of them. I only consider then that the water is ice cold. The screams are as hilarious as they are horrific. Wyatt is whooping in a way I've never heard, abundantly pleased with himself.

Hollering fills the backyard, until I start to scream as they all advance on me. It's a good job the press aren't nearby. They'd have a field day. Huxley reaches me first, grabbing the hose to yank it from my hands with ease. Twisting it around, he shoves the jet down my jumper before I can stop him. Holy fuck, it's beyond freezing. Throwing my fists into his chest, he doesn't budge until Wyatt switches off the faucet.

Garrett is sputtering, shaking water from his hair, but he's still laughing, holding my phone above his head like a trophy. I seize my chance, dropping the hose and lunging forward to grab my cell. I'm successful, but earn myself a soaking wet hug from behind.

"Did you catch all of that?" Garrett leans over me to speak into my phone's receiver. I minimize the image of myself, only to be flashed with Meg's face.

"What the hell?" I stutter. Meg's leaning on her fist, an amused and dopey smile on her face.

"Yeah, I caught every second," she laughs. "You're right, she is a real bitch when she's on the offense. She'd be perfect on my lacrosse team."

"It wasn't a livestream?" I ask dully, my mind a step behind. I blame the cold seeping into my back .

"Of course not. I'm not a fucking idiot," Garrett plants a sloppy kiss on my temple. Huxley and Axel are groaning, shuddering and soaked through. Their t-shirts are stuck to each muscled outline. Dax, being the hero with the gift of foresight, steps out in his boots with a bundle of towels in his arms.

Garrett peels himself from me to wrap a towel around my shoulders, uncaring of the water dripping from his messy, dark hair. Given his easy smile, no one would be able to guess that the blue shade creeping into his lips was from potential hypothermia. "Just wanted to make your day a little more interesting, Peach."

"You definitely succeeded," I say, catching my breath and looking around at the state of us all. The guys are a mess, I'm no better, and Wyatt is watching on with an emotion that isn't hatred. What is happening in the world?

Garrett doesn't release my shoulders, walking me back to the porch swing. I sit with a thud, and suddenly my legs are being forced apart by Garrett's. Gripping the sides of my face, he pushes his tongue into my mouth before I even realize what he's doing. The warmth of his mouth against mine ignites an immediate fire that mixes with the adrenaline already coursing through my veins.

Dueling his tongue with mine, he mouth-fucks me so hard, my toes are curling. Running a hand across the hard expanse of his chest, he grinds against me deliciously, before snatching the phone I forgot was in my grip and stepping away.

"So, Meg, as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted," Garrett rolls his eyes in my direction. "I'll make sure to film Avery's dance for you tomorrow. We wouldn't want you to miss it."

I sit stunned, panting from arousal and shock as Axel appears to offer me a hand up. Never mind the cold, all of my limbs are numb now for very different reasons. Garrett is pacing, curling a wet tendril of his hair as he talks to my best friend. Huxley and Dax head in, leaving me standing opposite Wyatt. He hasn't moved an inch, leaning against the house, arms folded. He's taking in the scene from afar, as per usual.

"Let's get you warm and dry," Axel tries to urge me inside. I pause, digging deep for some resolve. Things have been fine with Wyatt, an unspoken agreement to ignore each other, but these past ten minutes have proved there could be more. That it doesn't have to be this way.

"Will you be there too?" I find my voice. Wyatt raises a brow and I shift under his gaze. Axel's arm around my back is all that keeps me in place. "The showcase tomorrow. Will you…come?" I suck my bottom lip into my mouth. Axel is still but doesn't comment, and luckily Garrett is lost in his own conversation down the wooden steps .

"Do you want me to?" Wyatt asks tentatively. His features don't betray if he likes that idea or not, but I nod anyway.

"It'd be nice if everyone was there." Nice , ugh - Mrs. Patrick would have a fit at my choice of adjective. Wyatt straightens, pushing his hands into his pockets. He's actually considering it. I was certain he'd laugh cruelly and walk away. Instead, he steps forward and stops right in front of me.

"Okay then."

"Okay then," I parrot back, nodding several times. Axel's arm tightens around my waist, successfully tugging me into the house this time. I'm going to need another shower and a head start of binging food and festive movies.

"I'm proud of you," Axel mutters beside my ear. Guiding me up the stairs, he diverts us to the bathroom he keeps private for himself. "Let me show you how much." I grin from ear to ear. Well, there's an offer I can't deny.