The vein in my forehead begins to pulse as I stomp up the rest of the steps, slamming the door behind me as if that will banish her words from my mind. I couldn’t give less of a shit what others think about me, so why does her opinion affect me so much? My mind is whirling as I turn into the living room and collide with an eager looking Rachel.
“Wyatt, there you are!” Her words turn into a squeal as I bend to hug her and lift her right off her feet. The raspberry and vanilla scent of her shower gel wraps around me at the same time her arms do, holding me tightly as she hangs suspended in the air. A tear slips from my eye which I hide in her hair, the fractures that have grown at an all-consuming rate slowly knitting back together. This is the kind of hug I need every day for the rest of my life, one filled with pure unadulterated love. Placing her down with a sniff, Rachel cups my cheek and looks at me worriedly.
“You look drawn, have you been sleeping okay? Eating properly?” Taking my hand, she pulls me towards the kitchen without waiting for a reply. Taking a moment to compose myself whilst she isn’t looking, I look through the patio doors to the tiny dots beginning to twinkle in a darkening sky, thanking them for finally providing me with a real parent. I don’t need matching genetics or a piece of paper to tell me Rachel is more of a mom to me than I’ve ever known.
Planting me down on a stool, Rachel busies herself making me some dinner and fills me in on every little thing I’ve missed since being away. From unwanted squirrel’s in the attic, building a nest and chewing through electrical wires, to Charlton defending some big-shot celebrity in court which was broadcasted on mostly every channel. I simply listen and watch, a smile fixed to my face as she moves around in cropped jeans and a simple t-shirt. Despite clearly having an excess of money, Rachel never dresses in fancy clothes or flaunts her worth. She’s humbly content being the perfect housewife and nothing more. No social hierarchy or faked humanity and it’s the most refreshing thing in the world.
“-business in Seattle so he will be away for a few days. I’ve told him he shouldn’t be travelling at his age, but you know what Ray’s like. He always has been on the bull-headed side.” Rachel swings her brown eyes over her shoulder to smile sadly at me. I’ve never seen her and Ray together and I can’t picture it to be honest, but surely there must be a reason she married someone twenty years older and it clearly wasn’t for his money. Finishing with a sprinkle of grated cheese, she turns and plants a steaming bowl of tomato and bacon pasta in front of me. The smell is divine, my mouth watering with the lack of decent food lately.
“Now, be honest with me. How are you doing?” Rachel props herself on the other side of the island, watching me eat as if it’s the most fascinating documentary she’s ever seen. I think about spinning her a lie or shrugging off her concern, but I won’t lie to her. Not when her undivided attention feels this good.
“I ache,” I confess on a sigh. “My soul aches. Every time I think I know how to overcome my pain; it only gets worse. Like a mountain that keeps growing with every step I take, the peak never in sight. Being happy shouldn’t be a struggle, but I can’t even remember what happiness is anymore.” I flinch as Rachel’s arms wind around my neck, having been too consumed by my thoughts to realise she had moved. Leaning into her chest, I let her reassuring whispers and gentle strokes ease my thoughts for now, knowing the second she steps back they will slam back into me tenfold. Thoughts of vengeance, death and the blue-eyed girl beneath my feet who is unknowingly now at the centre of it all.
Avery
“Oh, my poor boy! What have you done to him?” Axel’s mom has sauntered across the room to inspect the botched shave job we had just finished, reaching out to run her finger across a few missed long hairs. Garrett’s hand shoots across from the other side of the bed, snatching her wrist tightly in his grip.
“Don’t you dare touch him Sharon,” he hisses her name through his teeth. His hazel eyes are blazing with fury, his arm trembling from the firm hold that has the slender woman whimpering. After a tense second, which has even the doctor hovering in the doorway frozen with anticipation, Garrett releases her with a shove and moves to sit on the bed. Sliding his arm beneath Axel’s neck, Garrett tenderly pulls him close like a lion protecting his sleeping mate from outside threats.
With a roll of her eyes, Sharon turns around to face the rest of us and holds out her palms expectantly. Doctor Breeson jerks into action, rushing forward with a clipboard I hadn’t noticed he was holding, pulling the pen from his jacket pocket and handing them both over. Her eyes roam over the words upon the paper, lips pursing before scrawling an elaborate signature with her manicured fingers. The glint of an outrageous diamond fixed to her skinny wedding finger catches Garretts attention; his eyes narrowed as he tracks the jewel back down her side.
“There,” she hands the clipboard back to the doctor, his forehead dripping with sweat making his black hair look even greasier. “I’ve already made the necessary arrangements.” He nods quickly, his eyes flicking back to Garrett before ducking out of the room like a bomb is about to detonate.
“What arrangements?” I ask when clearly no one else is going to speak. Dax’s muscles are bunched by the bathroom door, his locked
