Haunted by Secrets (Shadowed Souls #3)

Chapter Seven

Deja Vu carries me through the forest. The sun still filters through the trees in patches, those same patterns tracing the leaf-ridden ground. Our supplies are lighter today, a vague reminder that they’re starting to run low. My legs still ache, my stomach growls with hunger, and my feet are blistered from miles of trudging over uneven ground, but none of it feels as hopeless as before. Because Wyatt is openly talking to me.

“Your hair’s a mess,” Wyatt teases, his voice breaking through the quiet. I throw him a glare, and he nudges my shoulder.

“Thanks for the update,” I shoot back, a grin tugging at my lips. He’s as disheveled as I am, maybe more. His shirt is rumpled, his jaw covered in scruff, and his hair is pointing in about six different directions. “You’re just annoyed you woke up spooning the dog instead of me.”

I hold his gaze, referencing how I slipped out of the tent this morning to pee, and Baxter promptly took my place in the sleeping bag. Wyatt got a mouthful of fur as he whispered secret words into Baxter’s ear. I wish I knew what he said.

After a moment, a full-bodied laugh escapes Wyatt, scaring away the nearby birds. It shocks me too. I’m treading this newfound commodore as tentatively as the snaking roots camouflage across the forest floor. He lightly shoves at my arm, seeming to find these excuses to touch me, playfully telling me to shut up. Setting his green eyes ahead, I allow myself another moment to look him over. He appears different today. Lighter, somehow.

We continue on, minutes turning into hours, the day becoming more lost than we are. My feet are dragging; my calves have long gone numb. Leaning against a tree trunk, I open my mouth to demand a break when a distant noise gives me pause. Instead, a raspy croak of my dry throat causes me to cough. Wyatt looks back, retracing his steps to hand me a bottle of water from his pack. I wave him away, signalling to the air. Baxter heard it too, his ears pricked high.

“Did you hear that?” I rasp, my voice still rough. Wyatt freezes, his head tilting slightly as he listens. The forest seems to hold its breath. Then the sound comes again, faint but unmistakable. His eyes lock on mine, and I see the same spark of hope flaring to life in his expression. Far away, a carhorn blares, and another responds.

“We made it?” Wyatt asks quietly, like he’s afraid saying it too loudly might scare the sound away.

I’m already pushing off the tree, exhaustion forgotten. My legs carry me forward faster than they have all day, weaving between the trees. Wyatt is right behind me, his sneakers crunching the undergrowth, and Baxter barks once, dashing ahead as though he knows exactly where to go. If the horns blare again, I wouldn’t know since my pulse is thundering in my ears.

We don’t stop until the trees thin out and then halt altogether, our aching feet stumbling onto a paved sidewalk. Before us, lines of buildings border parallel roads that all lead to a large church in the town’s center.

“We fucking made it!” I shout, excitement bubbling over. A few people look up from their local businesses, wide-eyed and wary of the dirty, disheveled couple who have appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Baxter trots back towards us, rubbing against Wyatt’s leg while his tail wags vigorously. He leans down, ruffling Baxter’s fur.

“Good boy,” Wyatt mutters, his voice low but tender. I stall, waiting for Wyatt to lead the way, but instead, he straightens and turns to me. A flicker of indecision crosses his face, and then his arms are banding around me in a crushing hug. I don’t even consider my own arms wrapping around his body; they just do.

“You did good too, Avery.” Wyatt lets out a breathy laugh—the kind of sound that’s filled with relief. Baxter barks once, most likely wanting the attention back on him, and we slowly break apart. The warmth of Wyatt’s chest doesn’t retreat far, his hands hesitant to withdraw from my waist. As he slips away, my heart lurches at the same time as my hand, grabbing his in a sweaty hold. I can’t explain the need for it, but I don’t want to lose this connection to him. Not when we've just found it.

Wyatt doesn’t object, his thumb passing over the back of my hand. He inhales deeply, taking in the town in one sweeping gaze. Then, without another word, we’re moving again, directly to the closest diner.

The building is small, nestled between a hardware store and a barbershop, with a flickering neon open sign in the window. The scent of frying bacon and freshly brewed coffee hits me like a wall, and my stomach growls so loudly that Wyatt snorts.

Pushing the door wide, we’re met with a jingle from the little brass bell above. The hum of conversation inside goes quiet as we step in, our bedraggled appearance earning more than a few curious stares. A waitress, somewhere in her forties with a kind face and her blonde hair piled into a messy bun, approaches cautiously. Her name tag reads Linda .

“A booth for two, is it?” she asks, her gaze flickering over us before landing on Baxter, who’s salivating all over the floor. “I’ll see that your pooch has some food and water set out by the door. Follow me,” she smiles. Briefly stopping by the counter, Linda asks a colleague to attend to Baxter, and the young girl’s face lights up. She bounds off to make a fuss of him, both happy for the company.

“I’ll bring some water and menus,” Linda says, seeing us to our table. We collapse into the booth, the cracked vinyl cushions squeaking under us. Our backpacks are forgotten by our feet. The locals are still staring, whispering quietly around us. Disheveled or not, it won’t be long before Wyatt is recognised and they start snapping photos for the papers.

Linda returns quickly with glasses of water and a basket of complimentary rolls, and I swear I’ve never tasted anything as good as the first bite of warm bread. Wyatt watches me tear into a second roll with an amused expression, though he’s not far behind, stuffing his face with the same resolve .

“Where are you two coming from?” Linda asks when she returns with the menus, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“The forest,” Wyatt answers vaguely but not rudely. Like a ton of bricks, it hits me that he is being cautious of how much information we reveal. That I should also be careful who I speak to and what I say. “We had a little accident with our car and were left stranded. You wouldn’t happen to know a mechanic? And a place we can stay until we can get back on the road?”

“Oh, you poor dears!” Linda clutches her chest, looking between us with large brown eyes. “Let me make some calls and see what we can do. For now, rest and know that we serve the best burgers in town right here.” She winks before walking off to take another table’s order.

I glance at Wyatt over the rim of my glass. He’s watching her closely, a sliver of tension rippling through his shoulders. For someone I pegged as a materialistic man, the dirt smeared across his T-shirt and his chipped fingernails are the last thing on his mind. He’s thinking, calculating. Slowly returning to the version of Wyatt who puts himself on the outside of a conversation, who sees too much and overthinks constantly.

“What are you going to get?” I ask, pushing a menu his way.

“Everything,” he says without missing a beat. I laugh, earning a sideways smirk from him. Finally, Wyatt sighs and his shoulders lower, the tension ebbing. I’m not going to think too hard about why I want to hold onto him being this way for a while longer. To keep him smiling, to stop the weight of stress from settling back in. We may have been lost in the forest, but somewhere along the way, I feel like I found Wyatt, and I’m not quite ready to let that go.

Linda wasn’t lying about these being the best burgers, but after days of protein bars, anything hot, cheesy, and greasy would be the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Garrett would have plenty to say about that sentence. Wyatt and I moan our way through burgers, fries, sides, and large sodas until we’re complaining about stomach aches. Totally worth it, though.

Once Linda has collected our plates, Wyatt follows her to settle the bill. He keeps me in his eyeline at all times, not that I’ll be going anywhere. I’ve never felt so full, and my ass has molded to the seat. Instead, I stare out of the nearby window, taking in the quaint little town. Residents go about their business, unaware of the outsiders who have entered their solace and the drama that we bring. Hopefully we’ll be merely passing through without incident.

“Ready to go?” Wyatt asks when he returns. He has no right to look as good as he does in crumpled clothes, all tousled hair, and sharp green eyes. I blink a few times, slow to compute. “Linda has called the mechanic; he’s bringing a tow truck around.”

“We’re going straight back out there?!” My voice rises a few pitches. Wyatt blinks a few times, as if he thought I would jump up and follow his lead. We’ve covered a lot of ground, both physically and emotionally, but I’m still me, and me thinks I have forest PTSD. “What if the tow truck runs out of gas and we’re stranded again?”

Perhaps I’m being irrational, but Wyatt doesn’t scoff and shrug off my concern like he once would have. Instead, he exhales and nods slowly, picking at the edge of the tablecloth.

“Okay. I’ll go.”

“Really?” I ask, despite it being what I wanted. “You’re leaving me here alone?” I find myself shrinking in the booth, suddenly aware that everyone nearby can hear and see me. I don’t know anyone in this town except for Wyatt, and the thought of him leaving is like ripping away my safety blanket. And that’s exactly why he needs to go. Since when did I start seeking safety and comfort in Wyatt? Yeah, time apart is exactly what I need to get my thoughts in check.

Wyatt continues to nod, each word pulled from his lips with visible effort.

“Someone needs to show the mechanic where the SUV is. I won’t force you to come, but if you don’t mind, I’d really like it if you talk to Linda about some accommodation.” My brows raise, surprised at the request. I do need a shower and to sleep with real pillows. I just didn’t think Wyatt would consider my needs above his own desires. “And then go there and lock the door.”

I chuckle to myself. That sounds more like it. A tow truck passes by the window, honking twice. I feel each blare like juddering heartbeats, slicing through the tension radiating from Wyatt. Something is going unsaid, but I’m not quite sure what it is.

Movement shuffles at my side, presumably Wyatt leaving until a warm thigh nudges mine to shift up the bench seat. I obey, frowning as Wyatt crowds me against the window, his hand along the back of the booth. His heat falls over me, that blanket of comfort settling once again.

“Look,” he sighs. I’m frozen in place by his other hand lightly lowering on my thigh. “I know what the likelihood of you being here when I get back is. And for what it’s worth… I’m glad you got to see a different side of me. I’ll probably have shut it down the next time we meet.”

My gaze shoots up to his green eyes. A storm of feral emotions swirls just beneath the surface. I’m hyperaware of the weight of his hand on my thigh, the way his thumb brushes absent patterns against the fabric of my sweatpants, as though trying to ground us both. His presence is all-consuming, pulling every ounce of air from my lungs.

I should push him away. I should tell him to go, to take his guarded heart, and leave before I’m in too deep. But I can’t. I’m trapped by the vulnerability etched into every line of his face, the words I’m hesitant to speak.

“What’s changed?” I breathe close to his face. “I… I thought you said I couldn’t go back.” Wyatt swallows, and I track the movement of his Adam’s apple. Tilting his head, Wyatt looks down at his hand.

“I’ve come to realise that protecting you and suffocating you are two very different things. I thought I could handle your hatred if what I was doing was the right thing. But controlling you… preventing you from being yourself… that’s not something I can live with.”

The heat radiating from his body seeps into mine, and for a fleeting moment, the world outside this diner doesn’t exist. Just us. Just Wyatt, holding me in place as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go. My pulse thrums wildly, echoing the silent plea in his gaze. Stay .

“I’m not going to cage you anymore, Avery. It hasn’t served me well this far. I want to earn your trust, despite it being against my every instinct to walk away from you right now.”

“This feels a lot like a goodbye,” I whisper, hindered by vulnerability. My breath stutters as his hand tightens on my leg, the silent tether between us pulling taut. A thousand thoughts war in my head, but all I can think is, beg me to stay. And yet, I know he won’t. Wyatt will shut me out, because when emotions run too high; that’s what he does. Leaning closer, Wyatt’s lips brush my ear, the hand from the back of the booth shifting to gently hold my head .

“I wish you the best. Be safe, Angel, whatever you decide.”

My mind scrambles to make sense of the chaos unfurling between us, but all I can focus on is the sharp, searing awareness of him. The weight of his hand gripping my thigh. The faint scent of pine and muck clings to his clothes. The faintest kiss touches my cheek, and then he’s moving to leave me behind.

“Wait!” I shot my hand out to grab his wrist. Wyatt regards me stoically, already blanketing over his emotions. Lowering my voice, I cast a quick glance around. “What about…Fredrick’s men?” Wyatt stills for a moment and then softens, gently prying my fingers free from his wrist.

“I trust you can look after yourself,” he replies. My mouth drops open.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” The hint of a smirk shadows his mouth before he turns away. I watch Wyatt leave without looking back, Baxter hot on his heels. Avoiding looking out of the window, I wait until the tow truck has pulled away before breathing properly again. I’m alone. Hauntingly alone for the first time in months. More than that, I’m free.

“Did you want me to set you up with a room, dear?” Linda appears just in time. My body was about to throw me into a tumbling panic attack. “My sister owns a local Bed and Breakfast. I can give her a call if you like.” Call. Phones. Through my starvation, I’d forgotten we weren’t in some mirage but back in reality.

“That would be lovely; thank you.” I rush to say. “Would you mind if I used your phone as well? I need to check in with some people.” Linda nods, fishing a smart phone out of her apron. She tells me to take my time and heads out back, returning once to give me a free slice of apple pie.

In that time, I’d successfully stared at the screen, berating myself for not knowing anyone’s numbers off my heart. Shaking my foot nervously, I go out on a limb, calling my own number in the hopes that someone is nearby. The dial tone is tedious but only lasts for three rings.

“Hello?” A male voice answers. A stupid, strangled sound escapes me, and I clamp a hand over my mouth. My eyes squeeze shut as I hunch over, clutching the phone like it’s my lifeline. “Hello? Who is this?”

“Dax?” I breathe. I hear his sharp inhale .

“Avery,” Dax gasps down the phone. The weight of feeling behind that one word is enough to break through the tough facade I’ve been putting on, a defense mechanism that slips in place around Wyatt. Numerous voices perk up in the background, and Dax quickly hushes them all. “Holy shit. Swan, where are you? Are you safe?”

“I’m okay. We-” I stop myself, leaving out the crash. They don’t need more reasons to worry. “We’ve stopped over in a small town; I’m not sure where to be honest. But I’m fine, I promise.”

I expect to be bombarded with questions, asking where Wyatt is taking me, why he took me, and how he’s treating me. I don’t really have any answer for any, but that’s not what comes. Dax sighs, a hitch in his breathing. Is he crying?

“Oh Aves, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I stop twitching my foot, slowly sitting upright. My hair falls away from my face, and I frown, confusion knotting in my chest.

“What could you possibly be sorry for?” I frown. Maybe the guys searched and are feeling guilty that they weren’t able to find me yet. Not that it matters anymore. I’m free to come home now.

“I…There’s…” Dax stumbles over his words, each hesitation twisting the knot tighter.

“Dax, you’re scaring me. Whatever it is, just say it.”

“We’re at the hospital, Aves. There was an… incident.” The blood drains from my face, my hand holding the phone starting to shake.

“Who?” is the only word I say, a swift demand.

“It’s Axel.” The breath is ripped from my lungs. Those two words hit me like a physical blow.

“Give me the address,” I state, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “I just need to wait for Hux’s car to be fixed?—”

“My what?!” A voice shouts from a distance. I realise now I’m on loud speaker. Dax sighs, rattling off the name of a hospital in a completely different state. What the hell are they doing so far from Waversea?! I shove my questions aside, wanting to focus on what’s important.

“Give Axel my love. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“No, Peach,” Garrett pitches in. It takes a second to place his voice. Stripped of his usual humor, he just sounds… broken. “If you come here no w, it undoes all of Wyatt’s efforts to keep you away. He was right to take you from us.”

My mind reels. There’s no way they’re condoning Wyatt’s actions of drugging and kidnapping me in the dead of night. The only explanation is that something has gone very, very wrong. I straighten, my resolve hardening like steel.

“Tell me everything,” I say, my voice cold as the tough facade slips back into place. It’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.