“Are you all hungry? I’ve been cooking since Wyatt called and said you were coming. You’ll find new clothes in the wardrobes upstairs. I hope you don’t mind that I allocated your rooms, but Wyatt tells me you all rarely sleep where you’re meant to, so feel free to just use the rooms as a base. This is Wyatt’s house, after all.”
“It’syourhouse,” Wyatt corrects, but his attempt at sternness is undercut when Rachel simply waves him off and continues moving. Entering the kitchen, two freshly baked pies are steaming on the side, and another set is in the oven. Garrett is a goner, helping himself while the rest of us remain polite. Rachel guides me to a dining chair and sits beside me, taking my hands in hers. They’re warm, slightly calloused, and so familiar in their motherly touch that my throat tightens unexpectedly.
“Oh, Avery. It’s so lovely to have you here, especially.” Her eyes search mine with quiet affection. She doesn't stare at or comment on the bruising spreading across my cheek and seeping into my left eye socket. The throbbing is constant, but luckily, the X-rays didn’t show extensive damage. I should heal within the next few weeks with just ice packs and painkillers. I just need to avoid all mirrors until then.
“Wyatt has told me so much about you.” Rachel smiles kindly.
“He has?” I ask, blinking. A blush starts creeping up my neck, but my embarrassment is nothing compared to Wyatt’s. His entire face flushes red, and suddenly, I don’t even care what she says next. Just seeing him like this is worth it.
“We really don’t need to talk about that,” Wyatt mutters, shifting his weight like he’s contemplating making a run for it. Garrett, of course, is instantly riveted. He joins us, stuffing a forkful of hot apple pie into his mouth and puffing his cheeks around it after the fact.
“Tell useverything.”
Rachel’s eyes brighten, and she is delighted to oblige. “Well, for astart, he wasn’t lying about how beautiful you are,” she says, touching my hair and rubbing it through her fingers.
“Rachel,” Wyatt groans in warning, scrubbing a hand down his face like he might physically wipe this conversation from existence.
“He adores you, you know,” she continues, undeterred. “He told me that when you dance, the entire world stops. I’d love to see it sometime.” My eyebrows shoot up, my mouth parting slightly. Wyatt actively avoids my gaze.
I try to process the fact that Wyatt said those words and when and in what context, but all I can manage is a quiet, “Anytime.” Then, my smile falters. “I haven’t danced in forever.” Rationally, I know it’s only been a few months. But at this moment, it feels like a lifetime. Clearing my throat, I force the tilted slant of my mouth to return. Rachel gently squeezes my hand, her joy wrapping around me like a comfort blanket.
“Well, that’s a shame,” she says, light but meaningful. “I hope you’ll find your way back to it soon. Something tells me it’s a magical sight to behold.”
My throat tightens again, but before I can find the right words to respond, Garrett groans dramatically, rolling his eyes back into his head. “Fuck, this is a good pie. I don’t want to make it weird, but I’ddo thingsto this pie.” He lifts his fork pointedly at his plate, only for Huxley to swipe it straight out from under him. Axel comes up behind and smacks the back of Garrett’s head, warning him to watch his manners in front of Wyatt’s mom.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Rachel chuckles, watching Garrett protest loudly and lunge for his stolen pie. “It’s nice to have people to bake for again.”
Wyatt lightly grips her shoulders, still recovering from his attempted public humiliation. He finally meets my gaze again; his green eyes are stormy, but his lips twitch into a smirk. Dax suddenly appears, a glass of water and my next set of antibiotics in his hands. I thank him, leaning into his side after I’ve swallowed them down.
Rachel watches all this with something knowing in her gaze, but instead of commenting, she rises from the table, smoothing her apron. “Eat as much as you like, and when you’re ready, go get some rest. There are clean towels in the upstairs bathrooms, and I put extra blankets in the rooms, just in case.”
“Thank you, Rachel,” I say earnestly, meaning it more than I can possibly express. She just smiles, patting my hand before she leaves.
“Oh, honey. You don’t have to thank me. You’re safe here.” I frown at Wyatt, wondering just how much he really has told her. On cue, a yawn escapes me, and my eyes feel heavy. Dax gives me a slight nudge, offering to find me somewhere to rest. Huxley accompanies us, and just before we leave the room, Garrett shouts around a mouthful of food.
“No naughty business without me,” he muffles. I give him a narrowed glare over my shoulder.
“We can’t make such promises. You’ll have to choose between sex or the pie.”
I wish I could capture the stunned yet pained look that claims Garrett’s features as he looks from me to the pie and then back again. I walk away laughing, climbing the staircase flanked on either side.
I’m not sure whose bedroom we enter, but it’s the closest one with a king-size bed. Dax helps me peel off my sweatshirt and tank top, carefully lifting the fabric over my head without catching my cheek. Shimmying out of my leggings, the men strip off, and a twinge of longing filters through me at the sign of them both comfortably and gloriously naked.
Turning to face me, Hux catches the glint in my eyes and shakes his head, leading me to the bed, still in my underwear. We curl up beneath the covers, me lying on my right side to spoon Dax while Hux spoons me. The three of us are asleep within minutes.
Chapter Forty Nine
Sometime later, I rise to the smell of something rich, possibly spicy, and definitely filled with garlic. My stomach rumbles before I’m even fully awake. For a second, I don’t remember where I am. Only that I’m warm, wrapped in the steady rise and fall of Dax’s breathing in front of me, Huxley’s arm still draped securely around my waist.
But then, awareness trickles back. Rachel’s house. The safety of these walls. The way exhaustion had pulled me under so swiftly that I hadn’t even fought it.
Shifting carefully, I wiggle out from between them, my muscles stiff but no longer screaming with the sharp pain of overuse. Dax makes a rumbling noise but doesn’t wake, rolling onto his back and spreading out like a starfish, while Huxley only tugs the blankets tighter around him. I smile, shaking my head as I grab a hoodie and sweatpants from the wardrobe and slip them on before padding quietly downstairs.
The house is quiet in the way a home is after a long day. The lights are dimmed, and there's the faint hum of a radio playing in a distant room. When I step into the kitchen, I spot the plates left on the side, covered with foil to keep them warm.
Garrett is perched on the counter, swinging his feet, and finishing off what is probably his second helping. “About time you woke up, Peach. Thought we’d have to drag you down.” I roll my eyes but head straight for the plates, lifting the foil to reveal what looks like slow-cooked beef stew with thick slices of crusty bread on the side. My stomach clenches with hunger.
“This looks delicious, Rachel,” I compliment the woman standing at the sink, drying her hands. She waves me off.
