“Do you know of a place Baxter can stay?” I sigh.
“Oh, I’d be happy to look after him for the night. My girls will spoil him rotten.” Baxter barks, jumping up at Jimmy and reveling in all of the fuss he’s being given. I look to the concrete ground, swallowing past a lump in my throat.
“You know what, Jimmy. Why don’t you keep him safe for me?” On a long exhale, a weight is lifted from my shoulders. Whistling sharply, I call Baxter over and kneel down, accepting his licks on my face. “Be a good boy, okay?” I whisper a silent goodbye and let him return to an elated Jimmy, knowing it might possibly be the last time I see him.
It’s better this way. Baxter’s an old dog, sentenced to die, forgotten in a shelter before I found him. At least this way, he’ll be loved and cared for. He’ll have a stable home, which isn’t something I can currently provide. More importantly, he won’t be with me anymore. No one prospers when they’re with me.
But dare I dream that there’s someone willing to try?
With the pack on my shoulder, my feet swiftly carry me to the address listed on the business card, which turns out to be on the opposite side of town. At the far end of a gravel driveway, I walk up the wooden steps of a charming two-story building. Ivy creeps up one side of weathered brick walls, framing the windows with its pale leaves. The front porch is adorned with rocking chairs and overflowing flower boxes. A wrought-iron sign hanging above the front door reads‘Bonnie’s’in looping cursive.
I take a steady breath and push open the heavy oak. A bell jingles overhead, and a woman emerges from behind the reception desk. She’s older, with a kind face and silvery hair pinned into a loose bun. She appears to have a keen resemblance to Linda, the diner waitress. Her smile widens as I approach.
“You must be Wyatt,” she says, her voice warm. “Your friend said you’d be along shortly. Room three, upstairs. She’s waiting for you.” Her words hit like a punch to the chest. Jimmy wasn’t lying—Avery's here. She’s actually here.
Nodding mutely, I accept the brass key she hands me and climb the narrow staircase. The dimly lit hallways smell of lavender, due to vases of the flowers on low tables, mingling with the faint aroma of freshly baked cookies wafting from somewhere below. The wooden steps creak under my weight, my shadow cast across the floral wallpaper as I approach a door at the end of the hall, labelled with the number three.
Pushing the key into the lock, I twist slowly, unsure if I’m ready for what’s waiting on the other side. Why hasn’t she run at the first opportunity? Then I grow a pair of balls and push the door open.
Avery stands by the window, facing outwards. She doesn’t turn at the sound of the door, lost in her own thoughts, permitting me a moment to just stare at her. Her hair is loose, tumbling down her back in soft, golden waves. She’s shed the baggy sweatpants and sneakers, dressed in a simple knit sweater and leggings that cling to her slender frame.
There is a pile of folded clothes on the edge of a queen-sized bed, seemingly for me. The room for two is small and cosy, with a small bathroom off to the side. A pair of armchairs sit by the window, with a small table between them holding another vase of lavender.
I pause, unsure what to say. Whether I should disrupt her at all. But then, impatience for answers gets the better of me, and I step further into the small room. “You’re here,” I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. Avery’s head whips around, her expression unreadable. Clearing my throat, I clarify, “I didn’t think you’d stick around.”
“Wyatt,” Avery replies, a quiet plea that wrings my insides. In the dim light of the lamp, her eyes are red and puffy. She’s been crying. All pretences that I’ve guarded myself against her charms fall away. Crossing the room in a few strides, I reach for her, and she comes willingly. Crashing against my chest, I hold her there, stroking her hair and letting her tremble against me.
“Is it Fredrick? Did something happen? Fuck, I never should have left you.” I chastise myself. Avery shakes her head, turning so her cheek is pressed against me.
“It’s Axel. He’s in the hospital.”
My world tilts until I’m dropping on the bed’s green quilted throw, taking Avery with me. Just like that, our private world has shattered. Reality has come crashing back in.
I don’t immediately ask the questions burning my throat, as if delaying the knowledge of what happened will make it any less my fault. Once again, as always, I was tunnel visioned. Avery’s safety was my priority, and now visions of Fredrick’s men storming the frat house and becoming enraged at her disappearance fill my mind. Perhaps they took her disappearance out on the Souls. I was stupid to think they could defend themselves against convicts and thugs. I’ve been stupid in so many ways. There is nothing I can do now, but the temptation to put my fist through a wall is strong.
Instead, I focus on what’s right in front of me, bundled in my arms as if she belongs there. “Why did you wait for me? Why haven’t you gone to be with him already?”
Avery pulls back slightly, just enough to look up at me. Her blue eyes, glossy with more tears, search mine as though the answer is hidden somewhere between us. She opens her mouth, hesitates, then closes it again. I brush my thumb over the healing split in her lip from the crash, giving her all the time she needs. The air is thick with her indecision, her pain, and her haunted whisper.
“Because I didn’t want to go alone. I… needed you.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. The admission twists something deep inside me. Avery, who’s always been so self-assured, so steady in the chaos, is admitting she needs me. She chose to wait for me.
Her words crack something in me that’s been brittle for too long. I cradle her, soothing her as if I have the right to. The urgency to leave and be by Axel’s side is crushing, but there’s that small, selfish side to me that always seems to speak a little bit louder than the other voices in my head. She needs me. The car won’t be fixed until tomorrow. We have tonight, thanks to some sort of divine intervention. And maybe, just maybe, I need her, too.
Chapter Ten
When I managed to stop crying for long enough, I relayed everything Dax told me. How the boys went to Meg’s university and were a fraction too late. How Axel’s ribs were re-broken and punctured his lung. Surgery has managed to repair the damage, but he’s yet to wake up. They’re all in limbo, not knowing what to do or where to go, waiting and suffering in silence.
My heart cracks all over again, and the tears come back tenfold. I should have been there. I should be with them now, and regardless of Wyatt being the reason I’m not, he’s the only thing keeping me upright.
Yet to say a word in response, Wyatt lifts me into his arms, my body limp against his chest. Walking us into the bathroom, he doesn’t put me down until we’re in the shower cubicle. Turning the knob, a dose of ice-cold water shoots from the shower head before it warms. We gasp and cling tighter together on instinct, shuddering laughs prying us apart when there’s no reason to keep holding each other.
He reaches for my knitted sweater first, giving me every chance to smack his hands away. I don’t, despite the vulnerability seeping from me. I’m waiting for the switch to flip, for Wyatt to revert back to the man I thought I knew and take what he wants. A shameful part of me knows I wouldn’t stop him either. I just want him in any sense of the selfish word. It’s all want, want, want.
His fingers linger, growing braver, knuckles brushing my collarbone as hepulls the sweater over my head. My breath hitches, and he’s given a brief reprieve from my careful gaze. Then they're back, ever curious, all seeing. I’m standing before Wyatt in a black lace bra, the first one I picked up at a small clothing store in town. I wasn’t hanging around to peruse the racks, wanting to be out of the public eye as quickly as possible after hearing Axel’s news.
First choice or not, Wyatt seems to approve. A tick is produced in his jaw, his clenched teeth a testament to how much he’s restraining. How much he wants this to last. His hands lower to my leggings, until mine flash out to stop them. I’m almost trembling with the need for him to continue, but I manage to lower his arms to his side.
