Her words carry a bitterness I’ve never heard from her before, and it strikes me how much she’s still holding onto. It’s the first time she’s acknowledged any resentment toward Cathy, and the revelation sits heavy between us. I press my lips to her temple, lingering there as I let her speak, wanting her to get it all out in the open at last.
“I just wish she had told me something. Helped me to understand rather than let me piece it all together bit by bit, only to keep coming up short.” Twisting her face into my T-shirt, I feel a trace of wetness seep through the fabric. I stroke her hair and hold her gently, my perfectly imperfect Swan. “There’s an ache in my chest that won’t go away. This tiny voice that keeps whispering that I can’t save everyone.”
“You can’t,” I agree immediately, tightening my hold on her. Blinking up at me with a flash of defiance, Avery looks ready to argue that she can indeed save everyone, despite her being the one to say it first. I smile at her stubbornness, picking at a loose thread on the college sweater she wears. “That’s why you have us. All five of us.”
Satisfied with that, Avery wriggles back into my hold, our limbs entwined. Resting my chin on her head again, she absently draws patterns on my chest, safely snuggled away from the rest of the world. It’s just the two of us—no expectations, no masks, no need to fake smiles or force laughter. No pressure to be strong.
Beyond these walls, it’s chaotic and demanding, but here, the quiet is absolute, broken only by the soothing rhythm of our synced breathing. My injured hand rests against her back, my other traveling beneath her sweater until I find the circular scars on her ribs. Avery doesn’t react to my small strokes, as if she’s at peace with me touchingthem now. As if she’s accepted that they don’t define her. Fredrick’s actions don’t define her.
“Do you regret it?” I ask finally, my mind unable to take the hint and slow down too.
“Regret what?” Avery tilts her head back, her breath skating over my jaw.
“Leaving the manor.” She shakes her head, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.
“I could never regret you guys.” My smile grows once more, but there’s a flicker of doubt in my raised brow.
“Even Wyatt?” A dry laugh escapes her, a sweet and melodic sound cutting through the quiet.
“A week ago, I’d have said, ‘Fuck Wyatt.’” She pauses, reaching up to trace the curve of my jaw with her thumb. “I mean, I totaled Hux’s car with the sole intent of hurting him in any way possible. But yeah. Even Wyatt.” Leaning forward, I press a tender kiss to her lips, letting it linger.
“I know he’s not the easiest of people to understand, but deep, deep down, his heart means well.” I say quietly, brushing my nose against hers. “He just shows it in ways that only seem to make sense to him.”
“Tell me about it,” Avery rolls her eyes, although there’s a softness to her now. Every trace of anger and misplaced resentment between the two of them seems to have been resolved, thank fuck. We can finally all come together now; we can be a family again.
I kiss her again, deeper this time. My hand retracts from her side to curls around her neck, my tongue tracing her soft lips. She gives me all of her, opening and inviting me in further. My sweet Avery, clutching her hands in my T-shirt and tugging me impossibly closer. I grip her face, sinking my body lower so she can move to straddle me. My cock responds, twitching inside my jeans as if I didn’t selfishly have her to myself all of last night.
It wasn’t enough, nor do I doubt it ever will be. Avery doesn’t realise how much I love her or how she enables me to be the rock she’s slowly coming to rely on. It’s an equal give and take. She boosts me so I can be here for her in any way she needs. Lowering my hand to her hips, I pull her down whilst rolling my hips sharply, stifling her gasp with my mouth.
“Guys!” a sharp shout breaks through our bubble. Hux rushes intoview, not noticing how he kicks the stacks of books aside with his giant feet or stops me from dry humping Avery into an immediate climax. His brown eyes are wide and wild, seeming to see everything yet nothing at all. His chest is heaving, his fingers spread and hovering in mid-air. Avery sits bolt upright, accidentally rubbing against my shaft again. But none of that matters when Huxley remembers why he’s disturbing us.
“He’s awake.”
Chapter Twenty
A flood of pain hits me, slamming my senses into overdrive. I want to gasp, but no sound passes my dry, cracked lips.
Why can’t I move?
Shrouded in darkness, only the thump of my heartbeat in my ears tells me I’m not dead, not that I feel reassured. My body feels like I’ve been buried in concrete, every muscle too weak to push against the weight holding me down. My mind slipped through the fog to rouse a little while ago, but my eyelids are still too heavy to lift.
What the hell happened to me?
Using all my focus, I push every drop of my energy into twitching each of my fingers one by one. Satisfied my fingers are in working order, I slowly begin wiggling my toes back and forth to banish the pins and needles, sending tingles up my legs. A shudder rolls through my restricted spine, making me want to groan at the involuntary movement, but no sound passes my lips. Finally, after an eternity of lying in the pitch black of my own panic, I manage to crack my eyelids and blink a few times to focus.
A sea of stars greets me on the other side of my vision, glowing softly in a mix of pale yellow and green. There’s something so familiar about the perfectly pointed shapes—something glaringly obvious lingering on the edge of my mind, but I can’t quite grasp it. A solid weight beside mesuddenly shifts, a hand slinking over my chest and heavy breath fanning my ear.
Fuck.
A scenario I’ve seen play out a thousand times before slams into me—a pained noise actually leaving me this time. A hand clasping my mouth, painted lips whispering to‘shh’in my ear. A strong feminine fragrance clogs my throat, remnants of smoke and alcohol filling my nostrils as fingers brush across my exposed skin. Those glow-in-the-dark stars are my only anchor to reality, the only constant in this repetitive nightmare.
How am I back here? Did I ever even truly escape, or was it all a dream?
The figure clinging to my side sits upright, flicking on my space-themed night light to assess me. I will my body to move, but I’m stuck, glued to the mattress, and only able to scream in my mind. Soft hands touch my cheeks, the tears slipping from my eyes landing upon delicate fingers.
Please no, not again. I can’t be here again.
My name is being said, but it might as well be miles away, battle cries of useless determination filling my ears as I stare at those damn stars. By the time I’ve counted the five points of each one, this should be over. Sitting upright, the darkened silhouette looms over me until I can no longer count, and I recoil until a sea of dark eyes and scruffy hair catches my attention.
