Huxley’s hands lower to my shoulders, rubbing out the tension settled there. He works his way down, his thumbs brushing against my neck and collarbone, eventually folding himself over to hug me. His hair tickles my face, his deep breaths skating over my front. I cling to them all, rooted to that single chair and connecting us in the only way I know how. I’ve been missing for a week, but it’s enough for the fractures to grow. Enough for the Shadowed Souls to splinter from the inside out. At least now, we’re together and we can rebuild. We can find our ways back to each other.
“The fuck—” a harsh curse slices into the room as Wyatt trips over the bag still in the doorway. Huxley’s hold around me tenses, and he whips upright. Within a flash, I’ve released Axel, dodged those on the floor, andI am standing in front of Huxley’s heaving chest, making an effort to hold him back.
“Step aside, Swan,” he demands, devoid of the gentle tone he’d only just found. I stand firm, giving him a little shove to look at me.
“No,” I set my jaw. “it's not what you think. Wyatt was protecting me, in his own barbaric way,” I grumble, wondering why my instincts are screaming at me to defend him. I guess our relationship really has come far in the past week. Huxley tries to push me aside into Dax’s waiting arms, but I refuse to budge. “Huxley, I won’t let you hurt him.”
“It’s fine,” Wyatt sighs dramatically from across the room. He’s paced to the foot of the bed, lifting Axel’s medical notes and scanning through them. “I deserve it.”
“Oh my god, will you stop?!” I hiss over my shoulder, narrowing my eyes with as much venom as my fragile heart can muster. “This pity party bullshit is done. You don’t deserve it, and we don’t need to pretend we hate each other anymore. Those days are done.”
Something akin to pity sparks in Wyatt’s green eyes. Mourning the old days when it was easy. Push me away and hide from his feelings. Not anymore.
“Aves,” Dax clears his throat, tentatively brushing my arm. “Let them hash it out. It’ll be okay.”
I only realise now that I’m trembling. The strain of trying to piece them all back together to fix the bonds that have been broken, is too much for me alone. I close my eyes to exhale, and Huxley’s small nudge on my hip eases me in Dax’s direction.
Opening them, I look back to Garrett, now planted in the ‘hand-holding’ seat. He nods before returning his attention to Axel, reminding me of why we’re here. Of what’s really important. I stumble into Dax’s arms, allowing him to hold me up in the hug I’ve been needing. His bandaged hand is careful to remain untouched.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers into my ear again, pressing a kiss against my neck. “I’ve needed you.” I melt into Dax’s body, my arms wound tightly around his neck. There isn’t an inch of space between us, our hearts syncing and erasing the past week of separation. In Dax, I find my home, as I do in all of them.
Twisting to look over my shoulder, I watch Huxley approach Wyatt with bated breath. I wait for the fist clench, the first swing, but it doesn’tcome. Instead, when Hux raises his arms, it’s to engulf Wyatt in a similar hug to the one Dax has me caged in. Shocked, green eyes catch mine, Wyatt’s face falling slack and then twisting in confusion. Words I can’t hear are muttered, emotions filtering through Wyatt’s features I’m not accustomed to seeing.
Dax shifts against me, his head lifting slightly as he looks over at Garrett. “We brought food,” he says, looking to fill the silence around the heart monitor. “Not great food, but it’s something. Figured you’d be starving.”
“Starving,” Garrett mutters. His tone lacks its usual enthusiasm, but when he finally sits back, scrubbing a hand over his face, I can see the faintest hint of gratitude in his expression.
Dax pulls back, his warmth leaving my side as he reaches for the bag he dropped earlier, unzipping it and pulling out a stack of sandwiches and bottled drinks. Setting the food on the small table by the window, he pulls out a packaged object and carefully places it down.
“And we got this.”
Garrett’s eyes drag across the room, settling on the chrome-handled razor. He vaults himself out of the seat with more energy than I reckon he actually has. Dax’s head tilts, hiding a small blush. “I know there’s not much we can control in our current state, but I thought this is something we can do.”
Garrett steps around me and Dax, his jaw tightening as he crosses the room. For a second, I think he is going for the razor, but instead, he turns away and pulls Wyatt into a rough, almost desperate hug. I suck in a sharp breath, not realising how much it meant to me that Wyatt was accepted back into his brother’s fold. How much it matters that we’re all connected and no one is left behind.
“Don’t ever fucking disappear like that again,” Garrett growls, his voice thick. “She’s all of ours, and we all get a say in how to keep her safe.” Dax nuzzles against my neck, unable to let me go quite yet.
“Or you know, I could just decide for myself,” I raise a brow. Wyatt and Garrett look at me like that’s the stupidest thing they’ve ever heard and start to chuckle, rubbing each other’s backs. Despite being the unwilling cause of their comedy, the tension has broken, and for that I’m thankful. A small smile tugs at my own lips.
Garrett breaks away, ignoring the food in favor of picking up the razor. He beckons us all to come over to the bed, taking my hand in his.
“Up you go, Peach,” he directs. Huxley and Dax take care to lift Axel’s sleeping form upright so that I can slip in behind him. His weight is crushing, despite the lack of definition in his muscles. Wyatt ducks his head, feet shuffling towards the window, when Garrett catches him by the collar of his shirt. Planting the razor in Wyatt’s hand, he has no choice but to join us.
Dax fetches an overbed table from across the room. On it, he places a water jug, plastic cup, and can of shaving foam one at a time, whilst Huxley grabs a few hand towels from the bathroom. With careful, measured movements, we all work to lay the towel across my stomach and lower Axel’s head back in his new upright position.
Without much discussion, we all fall into our roles. Wyatt swallows thickly, dipping the razor into Dax’s cup of water, watching the ripples spread across the surface. Garrett is in charge of foaming. Wyatt stands beside me, steady and focused, his movements deliberate as he begins shaving Axel’s head. Huxley has a towel ready to gently wipe the path Wyatt’s razor takes, presenting freshly shaved patches. Before me, Axel comes back into view.
When Wyatt hands me the razor, Dax and Garrett move in to lift Axel’s head and shoulders again. My fingers wrap around the handle, and Wyatt’s fingers close over mine. I don’t dare blink up at him the way I want to, intent on gliding the razor up the curve of Axel’s neck. Wyatt leads me through it, each stroke removing the uneven growth and revealing the smooth, pale skin beneath. It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough. We’re working together to care for him. He’d love it.
Section by section, we pass the razor around, each of us contributing to the slow transformation. Garrett hovers nearby, his brow furrowed in concentration as he angles the razor awkwardly around Axel’s temple. Dax steps in to help, tilting Axel’s head to reveal the delicate spot behind his left ear.
We tilt his head this way and that, all intent on watching the smooth glides until his extra scalp is exposed. My hands are steady, but my chest feels tight, Axel’s weight pressing down on me. He’s still so motionless, his breaths shallow but steady. I swallow hard, pushing the thoughts aside and focusing on the task at hand. With a final brush of the blade over hisforehead, Garrett withdraws and smiles. Finally smiles, like his heart is about to burst. It eases everything tight in me.
Dax gathers the towels beneath his arm and the hair-filled cup in hand, disappearing into the bathroom. Garrett takes the razor back to the bag while Huxley and Wyatt help to hold Axel and I slip out. As the boys find chairs to settle into, I stay by Axel’s side, running my fingertips lightly over his newly shaven head. He looks... lighter somehow. The sharp angles of his face stand out more now, and there’s a soft reminder of the Axel I know.
“So,” Hux opens a bottle of water and takes a long swig. “You gonna tell us what you did with our Little Swan?” He looks back to Wyatt, leaning on the window sill. Wyatt’s eyes meet mine, a slight panic in his tightened lips. Where would he even start?
“I hope you weren’t gentle,” Garrett pitches in from his chair. “We weren’t in any of our practices.” I feel a blush rush to my cheeks, and I throw a dare stare in his direction. Garrett chuckles, throwing his legs up to cross his ankles on Huxley’s thigh and taking a large bite of a sandwich.
