Her words hang in the air, daring me to argue. I don’t. Instead, I just hang there, wondering how she’s managed to crawl beneath my defenses. Then, when her stare becomes too intrusive, I move. Twisting the arm she’s holding, I grip the back of her neck and crash her lips against mine.
The kiss ignites my soul, spreading like a wildfire. She consumes me in an instant, eradicating who I thought I was and replacing it with who she needs me to be. My hand tangles in her hair, anchoring her to me as if letting go would break me. Her lips are soft but desperate, drowning out the rest of the world outside. The blaring horns, the chaos of the hospital, even the frantic thud of my own heartbeat. It all disappears until all that remains is her.
Her hands slide up my chest, fisting the fabric of my T-shirt as she pulls me closer, her breath mingling with mine in a frantic exchange. I pour everything into that kiss. The anguish, the longing, the unspoken words that I’ve been too much of a coward to say aloud. My thumb brushes her jaw, the fragile curve of her face fitting perfectly in my grasp, and I can feel the faint tremble in her body as if she’s holding back tears.
I won’t let her shed a single tear for me. I’m not worth her sorrow. Slowly taking her clawed hand in mine, I pry her fingers from my T-shirt. Carefully, gently, relieving her from keeping me here. I doubt she notices, too caught up in the clashing of our lips and the battle between our tongues. Even when we made love last night, which was indeed my first time, I didn’t allow this depth of emotion to seep through. I suppose that’s because this is a goodbye.
When I finally pull back, I don’t go far. Our foreheads touch, her shaky breath mingling with mine, her lips red and swollen. “Tell Axel I send my love,” I whisper hoarsely, my voice breaking under the weight of everything I can’t say. Pulling away, I will her to get out of the car. Leave whilst we both still can. Of course she doesn’t.
Avery’s arm snaps out, hitting me square in the chest. I take the hit, figuring it’s what she needs to vent, but I didn’t count on the hand that slams down on my crotch, takes a whole handful of cock and squeezes. Hard. I squeak, flinching a few inches out of my seat. Her grip isunrelenting, despite the genuine fear in my eyes. Leaning closer, Avery’s nostrils flare, and when she speaks, it’s with the most threatening tone her sweet voice can manage.
“Tell him yourself, asshole.” Jerking her hand, she traps my balls against my thigh and drives her fist down deeper. I try to twist in the seat, but there’s no release, and another small squeal that I’m ashamed of escapes me. “Park the car and I’ll see you inside.”
Whipping her hand away, I gasp at the release. My hands are hovering over my privates, hesitant to touch myself. The door slams, and she’s gone, leaving my heart punching against my chest and my tender cock recoiling into my body.
“Oh, Wyatt Junior. Why is it always you that pays the price?”
Chapter Thirteen
Pacing around the tiny waiting room I’ve been forced into while the doctor performs his morning check-up, I can’t stop replaying that night in my head. Like a scratched record that plays the same song, glitches, and jumps back over and over. Axel’s body limp in my arms, the warmth leaving his body, the words I should have said lodged in my throat. His life was literally slipping away, and no amount of praying or crying could bring him back to me. I can’t even consider if the air ambulance hadn’t shown up when it did; I refuse to travel down that path knowing a part of me won’t come back.
My fingers clasp into fists, my body shaking with the need to be back at his bedside. It’s been two fucking days, and not a single doctor can tell me why he hasn’t woken up yet. Dax and Huxley have been staying at a motel on the edge of the city, returning during visiting hours like one of the nurses suggested I also did. Like I told her, either I’m allowed to stay with Axel at all times or she’d better get a second bed ready in his room, ‘cause I will jab a scalpel into my throat if that’s what it takes.
Funnily enough, not only was I permitted to remain, but we now have security standing guard by the door, and I got a complimentary evaluation from a psychologist. Nothing like a mental sweep of my childhood trauma to get the juices flowing, and I know where to direct all of that unearthed murderous intention. FuckingFredrick.
That same nurse who called security on me walks past the glass door, rounding the safety of her desk before nodding for me to return. I fly into the hallway, making her flinch as I jog back to Axel’s room, my footsteps echoing down the corridor. Nodding to today’s guard with a cocky smile, I slip into the room, and my heart finally settles at the sight of his sleeping form. The steady beep of the heart monitor is the only reassurance I have that he’s still here, still mine.
“Sorry that took so long,” I murmur, like he can hear me. Like he’s just sleeping and not locked away in whatever place his mind has gone. Talking to him is the only thing that keeps me from losing it. Crossing the room, I fluff his pillows out of habit, fingers trembling. The private room, with its simple comforts and muted light, is the best thing Huxley’s money has ever bought.
I kick off my shoes and jeans, slipping under the covers beside him. The sterile smell of the hospital is a stark contrast to the warmth of his skin. I burrow closer, resting my head on his shoulder and tangling our fingers together.
“I was thinking,” I sigh, melting back into his body. “Dangerous, I know, but I had to do something. Anyways, I was thinking that after you’re all healed and I’ve painted my bedroom walls with Fredrick’s blood, we should go away. All of us. Somewhere far away.”
I let the words spill out, trying to sound casual, like I’m not terrified he’ll never hear any of this. Like I’m not deciding to pour my soul of all the shit I shouldn’t have held back.
“Italy, maybe. Florence first, to see Michelangelo’s David. Then Venice, because you’d look ridiculously gorgeous in a gondola. We could hit the Sistine Chapel, rave it up in Vatican City, and finish off with a villa in Rome. Just us, the Souls, and an obscene amount of pizza.”
The dream feels fragile as it leaves my lips. That’s a new development—dreaming. I haven’t bothered holding onto hope in the longest time, because what’s the point? I only trust what I can see and feel in front of me. But while being met with only silence, the mind wonders. No, worse than that. It fractures.
Leaning into Axel, I let the words keep coming. “You don’t know this, because I’ve never told anyone, but I kinda really like history and architecture. When I was a kid, I used to lose myself in books from my dad’s study, imagining I was away on their travels with them. Like theyhadn’t left me behind. I taught myself that as long as there was that connection and the fridge wasn’t empty, I was fine.”
The confession comes without warning, raw and unfiltered, surprising even me. This is the reason I hate therapists, and psychologists are even worse. I’ve been mentally battered open like an egg, encased in cracks. Well, might as well keep going. My gooey center might pour out.
“Until they abandoned me for that month-long cruise. I was nine, left with a wad of cash and a list of takeout numbers. I didn’t call a single one. Gave up, I guess. I wanted to see how long it’d take someone to notice I was gone.” My throat tightens, the memory sharp and bitter. “Eleven. Days. It took eleven fucking days, Axe. I barely remember being scraped off the floor by a police officer, the blue lights flashing beyond my eyes, waking in a hospital bed with a tube down my throat.Force-feeding me.Can you imagine?”
I chuckle, a rough and hollow sound. As if I haven’t been catching the food trolley three times again when it’s being wheeled past, ensuring I’m eating Axel’s fair share. It’s included in the room cost, and I’m not one for wasting Huxley’s money. Alas, I digress.
“That was the last time I gave a shit about being loved, until you. I never ever thought I could deserve you, but I swear if you come back. If we can get Avery back, I can show you both. I can make you both so happy.”
Axel doesn’t stir, but his presence continues to ground me. I reach for the remote hooked to the bed, pulling the TV closer. I flick through channels until a Planet Earth documentary takes my fancy, leaving it on silent. When words fail me, when I’ve run out of things to say, I take to reading the subtitles. Hopefully the cadence of my voice, something steady and familiar, is soothing to Axel. A bit of familiarity to latch onto and pull himself back to me.
Or he’s cursing me inside his head to shut the fuck up, but until such a time that he is screaming it in my face, I will keep going. This is all I have to offer him right now, and it’s all that's stopping me from falling apart.
“Hey, I’ve told you before. You can’t be in the bed with him,” a deep southern drawl cuts through my blissful Italian reverie. I wake with a startled snort, my cheek pressed to Axel’s shoulder.
A broad woman with pale skin and a mischievous smirk looms over me, her blue-and-white dress valiantly struggling to contain her ample curves. She jabs me in the side with a playful poke. “C’mon now, sugar,” she teases.
I swat at her hand like she’s a fly. “Back off, Mamma. Don’t you know I’m a taken man?”
