A short while later, I’m in the living area, stretched across Dax andWyatt on the sofa. I can’t take my eyes off my new ink, wanting to admire every millimeter of it. Wyatt is running his thumb just beside the raw ink as if testing its longevity. Hux and Axel are discussing various universities that offer home learning, sitting on armchairs across a coffee table, which Rachel insists on keeping littered with soda and snacks.
We’re in our own, peaceful ravine, content to simply be in each other’s company when the tattoo artist reemerges, carrying a case with all of her equipment. Garrett is trailing just behind.
The Souls barely react at first, happily relaxing when Garrett clears his throat dramatically. Standing in a place we call all see, he hesitates for only a moment before reaching for the hem of his T-shirt and dragging the material over his head, exposing the ridges of muscle I’ve come to know, but the others haven’t.
No one knows how to react at first, so shocked by Garrett’s reveal that we don’t know what to say. Then he points a finger to a fresh piece of ink sitting just over his heart. A singular peach in vibrant color. My mouth drops open.
“Garrett,” I breathe, drawing myself to sit up and peer closer. The fruit has been purposely made to resemble the shape of a heart. His first tattoo that has a meaning. My pulse skips a beat as warmth blooms in my chest.
“I know, I know,” he interrupts, grinning. “It’s incredibly romantic, and you’re absolutely obsessed with me now. I get it.” I let out a short, breathless laugh, shaking my head.
“I was going to say, you finally don’t have a shit tattoo!” A roar of laughter sounds, and Garrett being Garrett, he doesn’t give a shit about being openly mocked. Climbing to my feet, I approach him for a better look. I press my palm lightly over the ink on his chest, just as he reaches for my arm, fingers ghosting over the crown-topped skull. My brand for his brand. Lowering my voice, I bat my lashes sweetly. “I love it, thank you.”
Garrett steps closer, his teasing smirk softening into something real. “You’re my Peach. You always have been.” Dragging me into his arms, he pulls me in for a deep kiss, uncaring of who’s watching. A few cheers and whistles follow, laughter filling the room. I’ve never felt so light, so filled with love, and simply at peace with myself.
As I look around at them—my Souls, my family, the ones who havecarried me when I could no longer do it myself—I realize just howdeeptheir claim runs. No matter where we go next, no matter who returns to Waversea and who doesn’t, none of us are ever walking away fromthis. I love them all with everything that I am.
Turning back to Garrett, I step back, making a show of looking over his torso in finer detail. “Wait, where’s your tattoo for Axel?” Garrett grins, and I know instantly, I shouldn’t have asked as he starts to whip his pants down.
“Oh, Peach. You haven’t seen my cock yet.”
Epilogue
AXEL
Two Years Later
Upping the speed on the treadmill, I push myself into a full run, sweat dripping from my chin. I relish in the feeling of my lungs expanding, banishing Doc Marcus’ voice from my head with each step. I’m at the peak height of physical fitness without a trace of asthma in sight. Mind over matter, and all that. My muscles burn more intensely with each heavy pound of my sneakers on the rubber, my mind clearing of all thought, and my eyes trained on the horizon.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, the skyline stretches endlessly as the city landscape twinkles like stars trapped behind the glass. Below, the streets are thrumming with life, even at this hour.
Wyatt and I moved into the penthouse two weeks ago, overseeing the renovations and ensuring everything was ready. Some of the home comforts we’ve been spoiled with at the manor have filtered into the decor, given that Rachel has her own apartment on the floor below and she can’t help herself from making suggestions. She decided a while back that her manor held too many memories and it was time for her to move on, but Wyatt wouldn’t let her go far. I reckon she’ll be in our gourmet kitchen more often than not.
My phone pings through my headphones, disrupting the music I was vibing to. Not that I care when the notification lighting up the screen is Dax from our group chat, informing us they will be arriving in around twenty minutes. I exit the home gym, wiping the sweat from my head with a small hand towel.
Passing Wyatt in the art-lined hallway, I tell him to get the wine ready before climbing the spiral staircase to our open-plan bedroom. One huge space with a custom-made bed and separate walk-in wardrobes for each of us. A photo frame sits on the bedside table, an old image of Avery and Meg hugging and smiling behind the glass. A bittersweet pang tugs at my heart, but I know Avery will appreciate the gesture. We need to hold our memories close to remember how and why we’re here, and what we have to live for.
The connecting bathroom is just as lavish, with a jacuzzi bathtub fit for six in the far corner. I shower quickly, pausing in the mirror whilst drying off. A satisfied smile grows across my face, the man staring back at me, one that I’m finally happy to accept. My head is freshly shaven, and my hazel eyes are no longer shadowed by exhaustion. My shoulders appear broader now that the constant pressure and unbearable guilt have lifted, leaving me standing taller than I ever have.
I run a hand over my chest, feeling the steady beat beneath my palm, the rhythm of a heart that no longer feels like an anchor. Therapy has been brutal. An unrelenting occurrence tearing me open and forcing me to face the things I had buried deep. To confront the death of someone who was supposed to have been my mother but never acted like it. To accept the abuse I’ve suffered and understand that it doesn’t make me weak. It makes me a survivor.
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. “Hurry up, Axe,” Wyatt calls through the wood. “They’re almost here.” I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head as I exit, a towel pinned around my waist.
Nothing has changed in Wyatt’s stalking ways, but at least he uses an app to do it now. Avery had the chip removed from her neck before she returned to Waversea, cutting ties from his obsessive, toxic behavior and encouraging him to try a different approach. One we all consented to beforehand.
Once back in the bedroom, I pull on a black T-shirt, the fabric stretching over muscle that wasn’t there before. I clip Avery’s compassbracelet around my wrist, knowing I should have given it back a long time ago, but its weight feels like having a part of her with me at all times, even when the distance between us is vast. After tugging on some dark jeans, I find Wyatt pacing near the kitchen island, rolling his shoulders. He’s gone a step more formal, a white shirt collar parallel to the sharp line of his jaw. Pushing his hands into the pockets of his navy slacks, his dress shoes make a clipped sound against the marble floor.
“Relax, man,” I tell him. “Everything’s perfect, and she wouldn’t care even if it wasn’t.”
“I know that,” Wyatt sighs, shaking some of his nervous energy. Planting his hands on the islands, I watch him make a conscious effort to calm his jittering. His hair has grown out and is no longer forced into submission with products, the brown strands falling around his face. Those green eyes, though, haven’t lost their edge one bit.
Handing him a wine glass, he accepts it and clinks mine, sipping in silence. I feel the same anticipation curling through my gut, a sharp-edged thrill at the thought of everyone being under the same roof again. Everything is set. Three bottles of wine are breathing on the counter, the scent of garlic and rosemary still hanging in the air from the meal Rachel helped us prepare earlier. Candles flicker in glass holders on the dining table, and a ridiculous amount of flowers take up nearly every available surface.
“One bouquet would have sufficed,” I offer, eyeing the various colors. Wyatt snorts, his meaning loud and clear.
Avery deserves every flower under the sun, and I’m going to give it to her.
Anyone who thought Wyatt and Avery’s feelings were a passing fad was quickly proven wrong. For the past two years, we’ve all eaten dinner together over video call, sent care packages, and visited during the holidays, but those two are in constant communication.
