Wyatt sits in the passenger seat, for once relinquishing control. His elbow rests on the doorframe, his sharp green eyes fixed on the ambulance ahead, though the occasional twitch of his knee betrays his impatience.
In the back, Dax and I sit huddled together. I could have taken the seat against the other window, but the space between us seemed too vast. An urgency to pull him close and not let go shifted me into the center. The anxiety churning in my chest is quieter with his presence anchoring me. My legs are draped across his lap, where his injured hand lies carefully and his free fingers trace patterns on my calf through my leggings.
“So,” Huxley starts when we can’t handle only the sound of the engine humming through the cab. Not even the radio is playing. “Does someone want to tell me why my car has a black bumper and a greypassenger door? I’m not even going to ask about the left-side windows not being black-out glass like they should be.”
Wyatt’s jaw twitches, but he doesn’t turn around. I swallow hard, shifting against Dax, who seems to find the whole situation amusing. A low chuckle rumbles in his chest as he glances at me, his hand stilling on my leg.
“I was wondering how long it would take him to bring it up,” Dax snorts beside my ear. I was hoping Huxley was too distracted in the parking lot to notice the mix-match parts making up the SUV’s exterior. I should have known better. The silence stretches until Wyatt flicks his green gaze over his shoulder at me.
“This one is all on you,” he says unhelpfully, before turning his attention back to the ambulance in front. I roll my eyes, not knowing why I expected anything different.
“We had an accident,” I finally mutter. The events of that night replay in my mind like a stuttering film reel. Wyatt’s cold demeanor, the twist of the wheel, headlights slicing through the air, the screech of tires, the crunch of the metal hitting the ground.
“Anaccident,” Huxley echoes, a slow nod of his head. “I think I’m going to need something more specific. My baby looks like she’s been driven through a demolition derby, and I’m not even going to mention the animal hair and thesmell. Seriously, what the fuck guys?”
Wyatt shifts in his seat, brushing said-dog hair from his sweatpants. I must admit, Baxter definitely has left his stench as a parting gift. “Avery swerved us into a ditch in the middle of nowhere.” My mouth drops open. As if Wyatt is going to blame this all on me?! Huffing through my nostrils, my eyes narrow to slits. Dax is trying to smother this laughter behind his hand now, my barely concealed frustration leaking through clenched teeth.
“In hindsight, I may have been a little rash. But in my defence, my decision making was warped by the drugs in my system and Wyatt blaming me for his terrible choices. Plus, I was bound, gagged, and covered in dog drool. So yeah, I totaled the car, and I’m sorry.”
Dax sobers, both his and Hux’s eyes darting to Wyatt. He has the audacity to shrug, unaffected. “I’ll have the SUV fixed up as new.” The atmosphere in the front becomes charged with the bunching of Huxley’s shoulder.
“I don’t give a shit about that,” he grips the wheel hard. “Was Avery hurt?”
I can almost hear Wyatt’s eye roll. “Nothing serious, and I’m fine too; thanks for asking.” That same instinct from the hospital room arises in me to smooth everything out. Especially as we’re about to walk into Axel’s old home. He’s going to need us, minus the petty squabbles.
“Wyatt actually took good care of me.”
Real good care if the previous night and morning are anything to go by.
Huxley’s eyes flick up to the rearview mirror, narrowing at the blush that coats my cheeks. I clear my throat and put on a sweet smile for his benefit. “Thanks to your forward planning, we had everything we needed.” I lean forward to stroke the tension from his shoulders, earning a brief brush on his jaw against my knuckles. Wyatt tracks the motion, careful not to reveal whatever he’s thinking.
Looking to distract myself, I reach into a crumpled snack bag nestled in Dax’s car door, plucking out a pink Starburst. The wrapper crinkles in my hand before I pop the candy into Dax’s mouth, and unwrap myself a second. Despite the weight lingering in the car and the pain he must be feeling in his fingers, Dax gives me a small smile as he watches me chew.
I sigh against his shoulder, tugging the sleeves of Wyatt’s oversized hoodie over my hands, the familiar scent of him bringing a sliver of peace. It’s become my comfort blanket these past few months, a shield against the weight of everything crashing down around us.
My gaze flickers to Axel’s silhouette, just visible through the ambulance’s rear windows. I can’t shake the image of him lying so still in that bed, his chest barely rising and falling. He would hate this, being carted back to a place he’s tried so hard to leave behind. For the first time, I’m glad he’s not awake to experience it. Even with Garrett’s body draped across him, probably muttering reassurances into his ear, we’re delivering him back to the one place he swore he’d never return.
Hunting for an escape from my thoughts and finding none, I suddenly sit upright and turn to Dax. “Do you have my phone?” He reaches into the duffle bag at his feet, pulling out Wyatt’s first and tossing it into his lap, before retrieving a pink device from the side pocket. I inhale sharply, the screen lighting up to greet me.
“I kept it charged in case Meg tried to call,” Dax looks away guilty. His focus turns to the countryside beyond the window. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get to her in time. We really did try.”
“I know,” I press against him until I’m sure he’s being crushed. His arm tightens around me as I flick through my apps, not really sure what I’m looking for. A message from Nixon maybe, a few missed calls. There’s nothing. Instead, I open the photos to scroll through photos of me and Meg. Camping trips, movie nights, college parties. Memories we might not get a second chance to enjoy together, the future looking bleak for both of us.
With my phone clutched in hand, my mind whirls with new options I didn’t have before. If I contact Fredrick, maybe I can convince him to take me instead and let me pay the debt he feels he’s owed. A thought I keep locked inside my head. Wyatt is straight on his too, typing Sharon’s name into a search engine and reading out the top result.
“Sharon Barrett, surviving widow of Matthew Barrett, has recently tied the knot to a man twenty years her senior after the pair met at his law firm. Mrs Barrett has been working as a secretary at the practice for the last four years, after speculation that she was running low on funds. She has not recently been seen in public with her son, Axel, following an alleged family dispute, nor was he present for her wedding. In an unconventional twist, Mrs Barrett insisted that her new spouse took on her last name-”
My stomach rolls, and I tune out the rest of the article. I hate her already. Turning towards the window, the countryside stretching out before us intensifies the feeling that I’m going to throw up. It’s starkly different from the cramped chaos of the city we’re left behind. Rolling hills and sparse clusters of trees replace the endless maze of buildings and streets. We’re drifting too far away. Like a thread being pulled from a jumper, I feel the chasm between Meg and I pull taut, barely hanging on. I don’t know where she is or what’s happening to her. I love Axel and will see him safe too, but this is a step back I wasn’t anticipating.
Huxley keeps looking at me in the rearview mirror, keenly watching my mind tick over. “Axel’s is the last place Fredrick or any of his goons would look for any of us. We can regroup and search for her from there. We’ll make it work.” He tries to reassure me. I twist my face out of his eyeline, not liking how easily he can read me, even in the reflection. “We won’t stop until she’s safe.”
The words settle in the air, a fragile promise wrapped in uncertainty. Wyatt and Dax make no comment. I know neither of them are the type to make vows they don’t intend to keep, and their silence is damning. I lose myself to the horizon once more, lowering further into Dax’s hold until my head meets his shoulder. The ambulance remains firmly in my sights, the orange and white flashing light perched on top drifting out as I let the veil of sleep carry me away.
Chapter Sixteen
I hang back, watching from a distance as Axel is quickly but carefully taken up the grand staircase. Garrett and Hux carry his gurney between them, the ambulance driver carrying the IV drip and bag of equipment right behind. We’re told by an elderly butler that a doctor has been contacted about temporarily moving in. He will arrive in the morning.
That leaves Dax to gingerly help a sleepy Avery ascend those same stairs with one arm, her head lolling against his neck, her bag slung over his shoulder. She’s slept the entire way, her eyelids glued shut whenever I snuck a sly look into the backseat.
