Where the others get her on a physical and comfort level, Wyatt gets her mind. They’re on the phone for hours, sometimes all the way through until morning. Any achievement, any inconvenience, or triggering counseling session, she’s straight onto the phone, needing Wyatt’s opinion. Wanting him to console her. In all of the years I’ve known him previously, I’ve never heard Wyatt just talk and open up and be so honest. I suppose they have a lot of missed time to make up for.
I, on the other hand, received what I needed. Space. I know it hasn’t been easy on Garrett, and at the end of each visit, we have the same argument.Why can’t you come with us? When will you be ready for me to love you?But he understands, truly, even if he doesn’t like it.
Sipping my wine, the crispy liquid easing down my throat, I wonder how I’m going to put into words that I’m finally ready. I’m finally the man I want to be for him. For Avery. For myself.
A buzz sounds through the penthouse, resonating from the elevator. Wyatt and I exchange a look before he strides to the control panel and grants access. A moment later, the doors slide open. My smile couldn’t stretch any further.
Between the bundle of suitcases, Avery stands tall and proud amongst her men. She’s cut her hair to just below her shoulders and recently had her outgrown brunette roots merged into the blonde tones further down. She’s wrapped in one of her oversized sweaters, a box of books in her hands. Her eyes sweep over the space, taking in the high ceilings, the open-plan layout, and of course, the flowers.
Dax is the first one off, dragging two duffel bags behind him, his grin wide and easy. “Home sweet home!” Huxley steps out next, rolling his suitcase, his lips twitching. Garrett follows, balancing a box labeled ‘Shit I Probably Don’t Need’.His dark eyes settle on me instantly, like a laser beam spearing straight through to my heart. He looks over my bulkier physique, one that rivals Huxley’s now, and curses beneath his breath.
“Fuck, you’re so hot.”
I smirk, closing the distance between us to take his box and set it aside. He’s in my arms in the next second, arms banded around me like he never wants to let go. I nudge my cheek against his, peppering his face and neck with light kisses. It’s so good to have him like this again, knowing I don’t have to say goodbye anymore. Pulling himself back before we get carried away, Gare twists back to face the elevator, still bundled in my arms.
Avery exhales a breathless laugh, last to enter. “Holy shit. This is incredible. And… it’sours,” she beams at the five of us staring at her like she’s the center of our universe, and she is. Wyatt, who had been frozen at the sight of her, finally moves. He strides toward her, his hands settling on her waist, and dips down to press a kiss to her forehead.
“Welcome home, Angel.” Her blue eyes flick to mine over his shoulder, and I smile.
“Feel free to put your womanly touch on it. But maybe ask Rachel for advice here and there. She’s not stopped saying how excited she is to have a daughter.” Warmth blossoms in both Wyatt’s and Avery’s eyes, and they step aside, needing a moment in private. Dax and Hux take themselves on a tour while I tug Garrett along and guide him towards the wine. Accepting a glass and downing it in one, Gare proceeds to throw himself on a large sofa facing a roaring fire and the city rooftops beyond.
“I can’t believe we’ve finally graduated. I thought we were gonna be in that schoolforever.” I snort, resting against the back of the sofa.
“I know,” I exhale, watching the flames dance in the fireplace. “Feels surreal that we’re all together again.”
For a short while in the middle somewhere, when the calls were streaming in about how Garrett and Huxley were constantly bickering and forcing Avery to act as their mediator on a regular basis, I didn’t think we’d get to this point either. After pushing him away time and again, I was on edge, waiting for the news that he’d done something reckless, whether it was to drink himself stupid, get arrested, or go on a sex spree with half of Waversea. But he surprised us all, reigning it back in and focusing his energy on the basketball team he became captain of, in Wyatt’s absence.
Garrett stretches, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of tattooed skin. “You’re lucky I came at all,” he smirks at me. “You know how I feel about therapists. But I figured as least you can fuck my body whilst raping my mind, and I couldn’t miss the chance to call you Professor Axel.”
I snort, ignoring the rest of that sentence. “I won’t be a professor for a long time yet.” Eventually, though, that is the goal. The last two years have been about personal growth and not just the physical kind. Through healing and pushing myself towards meaningful, I took every online class I could, chased every credit, and now I have my degree in psychology. But I’m not stopping there.
“I’ve been thinking about taking it further,” I admit, swirling my wine glass. “I want to focus on creative therapy. Helping people work through trauma in ways that feel natural to them. Art, music, dance.Maybe even something more experimental.” Garrett raises a brow, and his smirk widens.
“Something like nude still life drawing? Because that’s something I can totally help with.” He starts tugging off his T-shirt, and I reach out to stop him. Since working through his self-consciousness, Garrett has become a nudist for the most part. I rarely get a photo with his clothes on these days, ever since Avery convinced him to do a meditation course called ‘Embrace your Body.’ It was a bunch of hippies hugging trees and swinging their dicks in the wind, and he loved every second of it.
“You’re gonna be too busy playing basketball, Mr. Hotshot.” I wiggle my eyebrows, still holding the hem of his T-shirt down by his waistband. Garrett’s smug grin doesn’t falter.
“Still got time to model for you,” he winks. I roll my eyes, but there’s pride swarming in my chest. We had no idea what Garrett would do when he came upstate until a few weeks ago, an agent saw him play and offered him a contract. He’s worked so hard, invested so much time in bettering himself, and now he’s about to go pro. Dax joins us, making a choked sound at the sight of me grappling to keep Garrett from removing his top.
“At least wait until after dinner before you start stripping off,” Dax chimes in, dropping onto the couch beside him. My Brazilian friend has also let his hair grow out, a wild blond afro spilling from the top of his head and hanging past his shoulders in a mix of tiny ringlets and unruly waves. It suits him, as does the relaxed smile on his face. He looks at home here, his arm slung over the back of the couch and his body stretched out loosely.
Dax didn’t return to Waversea in the same capacity as the others, since his scholarship was revoked and he didn’t feel like jumping through hoops to get it back. Instead, he took up a biomedical engineering apprenticeship at a nearby facility, using the frat house as his base, and after working his ass off, has landed a real job in the city below us.
“You excited to start at the lab on Monday?” I ask him, sipping the rest of my wine and setting the glass on the coffee table. Garrett nudges up to make room for me to sit and curls himself around me. Dax is still grinning.
“Just excited to finally be living. Feels like we’ve all managed to get our shit together.” Huxley scoffs, strolling into the room.
“Some more than others,” he narrows his eyes at Garrett, who in turn flips him off. I laugh, my gaze settling on Huxley as he moves to stand near the windows, silhouetted against the city. It doesn’t take long for Wyatt to filter in and stand at his side, the pair muttering in hushed whispers.
They’ve been working on their plans to start up a charity together for months, putting their business degrees and money to good use. The concept is to give kids a way to escape dangerous homes and start over, no matter what background they’ve come from. Rich, poor, abused, manipulated. They will all be saved and placed with well-vetted, loving families, receiving the best care both through court cases and afterward.
Wyatt nods as he talks, his sharp green eyes flicking to his new partner. Huxley crosses his arms, a satisfied glint in his gaze. I reckon Wyatt is filling him in about a call he took earlier, setting up a meeting with some potential solicitors who are interested in joining.
Avery steps into the room, tucking her hair behind her ear. The light seems to radiate around her, shining like a halo and filling the space with the warmth it was missing. She may have only just arrived, but she effortlessly belongs. The thought fills me with satisfaction. After everything—after the fights, the bruises, the nights spent wondering if we’d make it to morning—we've made it. We built something better. Something that’s ours. We’ve found our home.
Her eyes snag on the fireplace and for a moment, her smile falters. Wyatt notices too, swiftly stepping in to guide her closer. On the mantelpiece, a thin vase holds the only flower in the entire penthouse which won’t wilt and die. Afterall, Wyatt spent the best part of three days building the yellow rose out of lego. Confusion flickers between Avery’s brows and Wyatt takes her hands.
“If you want me to get rid of it, I will. But it’s taken me two years to come to terms with what was done to us, and this is my way of making peace with the past. For Cathy and Nixon, and even Fredrick. They manipulated us, molded us, lied to us, but they also brought us together. They brought me to you.”
