Haunted by Secrets (Shadowed Souls #3)

Chapter Twelve

Hux’s car is a sorry sight, a matte black bumper highlighting the dark scratches in the rest of the white paintwork, but it runs. Baxter saw us off from the garage as best he could with a small girl wrapped around his neck. His tail didn’t stop wagging the entire time.

Avery sits up front in the passenger seat, her socked feet crossed on the dash. She hums and bobs her head to each song playing on the radio, pitching in with random chatter every so often. She’s been this way for the entire drive, bottling up her grief to face the long hours on the road. I refuse to stop longer than a mere toilet break or to refresh the snacks, and she doesn’t want to hang around unnecessarily either. We have somewhere to be.

Holding onto the memory of last night, of how I woke up with my arms wound around her beautiful body, I push my foot harder on the accelerator. Dare I toss around the vicious L word, but there is definitely a driving force pushing me onward. A need to get her back to the men she’s missing. I get it now, although it’s painfully too late. She’s too precious for one heart, too loving to be caged to one man—even if I wish it wasn’t so.

Suddenly, Avery withdraws her long legs and sits upright, turning to me with wide eyes. “Do you know what I’ve just realised?” I can’t explain how my heart lurches and how I’m hanging on her every word and apparent revelation. “Meg’s birthday is in May.” I spare her a quick, confused look, feeling the slam of guilt at the mention of Meg’s name. Each time it hurts a little harder, cuts a little deeper, as my feelings for Avery are unleashed. But it’s not pain in Avery’s expression, it’s a mix of curiosity and wonder.

“Yeah, so?”

“Sooooo, she’s my twin. We share a birthday. Fredrick knew my birthday since he took me from the hospital, so they must have lied about hers to keep covering up their secret.” There’s no need to ask who ‘they’ are. Our incredibly deceptive parents who used every weapon in their arsenal to keep up this pretence. I slide my eyes back to the road, although there’s something unusually cute about watching Avery piece it all together. Playing detective with her own life like it’s a live TV drama. “Meg thinks she is three months older than me. That’s the end of her summer pool parties, I suppose.”

Avery lets out a small laugh, the sound light but tinged with a trace of something else. I continue to slide glances her way, trying to decipher it until she notices. “What? I’m trying to be optimistic.” Despite there being no harshness to her voice, a gut-punching sensation levels me anyway. Just another way Avery is fighting to keep her head above sea level, and I’m the sole cause of it. I grip the steering wheel tighter, the familiar surge of anger bubbling under my skin.

“Sounds exhausting,” I huff. Avery forces a smirk, leaning back into her seat and tilting her head toward me.

“Why wasn’t there a big celebration for your birthday?” she asks. “I know it’s just before mine, since Cathy was always so desperate for you to come home for it.” I drum my fingers on the wheel, pretending her nonchalant tone fools me. She’s deflecting, switching the conversation before the hurt settles. Although whether she’s trying to protect herself or me, I can’t be sure. At least for now, I can help maintain the distraction.

“Well, I don’t really care for mine but Garrett forces me to throw that fresher’s party every year as a guise to celebrate.” Just the mention of it brings back a flood of unwanted memories.

That party where I was furious to find her in the middle of our team’s groupies, looking delectable despite being mostly covered up. My fury wasn’t directed at her for crashing it though, but because that was the first moment I saw Axel defending her. He tried to hide her from me, and I sought to send a clear message.

It backfired of course, the guys instantly standing against me and taking her side. I hated how quickly they turned when they knew, they knew , the torment I suffered because of her. I’m certain they became her bodyguards from that night, shielding her from me and truly, I haven’t felt so betrayed since Nixon kicked me out of my childhood home. It’s all about her, and it always has been.

Avery’s attention turns back to the open stretch of freeway ahead, her fingers idly playing with the hem of my oversized hoodie swamping her small frame. She made sure the few clothes we had were dry cleaned whilst we ate breakfast in the diner again, and that orange monstrosity was at the top of the pile. It feels a bit too late to tell her I never even liked the damn thing and that she should probably just keep it, but my stubbornness shines through. I just can’t help but love the small fights.

“What about the guys? When are their birthdays?”

Her question seems innocent enough, but something about the way she asks makes me glance over, catching the faint crease in her brow. I raise a brow of my own.

“You don’t know?”

Her little pink tongue quickly pokes out, moistening her lips as if she’s embarrassed by my question. Or maybe I said it more as an accusation. I really can’t keep myself in check when I’m around her.

“It’s never really come up,” she admits, giving an awkward half-shrug. “You know, what with running from a madman and all. We haven’t exactly had time to slow down and…date properly.”

I nod my head, processing her words. Jealousy and regret toys with the clench of my jaw, but I’m swift to tuck away the ugly emotions for reflection another time.

“Fair enough. Well, Dax’s is March fourteenth. He’ll tell you it’s the best day of the year since it’s also Pi Day. He bakes himself a birthday pie and forces us all to do trivia. Spoiler alert, he always wins.”

Avery grins, her posture relaxing as I continue.

“Garrett’s June fifth. He’s a very proud Slytherin because of it. Movie marathons and themed snacks are a must. Axel’s a summer baby, August second, and—” I pause, glancing her way with a slight wince. “You missed Huxley’s. December twenty-seventh. ”

“What?!” Avery bolts upright in her seat, so fast I worry she’ll give herself whiplash. Her expression is equal parts shock and outrage. “Why didn’t he tell me? We could’ve celebrated at the cabin!” I snort softly, flicking on the indicator as I guide the car toward the next exit.

“We never celebrate. He hates his birthday. He’ll do anything to avoid it.”

“That’s stupid,” Avery pouts, crossing her arms like she’s ready to stage an intervention. Shrugging one shoulder, I let her words hang for a moment before responding. There’s so much to Huxley the world doesn’t see or doesn’t care to try. I know with Avery that isn’t the case, and like she said, they just haven’t had the time for these sorts of conversations. I just didn’t think I’d be the one having it with her.

“He finds it superficial. Part of his ‘ running away from being a rich kid ’ thing. He grew up being given everything he could ever want, except the two things he really needed.”

Avery’s crystal blue gaze sharpens, curiosity causing her to twist back towards me. “What’s that?” she asks tentatively, possibly afraid of the answer.

“To be loved and to be taken seriously,” I say simply. “All that blonde hair and charisma? It was a gift for a child model and movie star. But no one cared to look beneath the surface. He was told what to say, how to act, how to dress. And after years of appeasing his parents, they stole everything. Every cent of the money he made. To them, he was just a piggy bank.”

Avery’s expression shifts, her earlier indignation melting into something softer yet heavier. She sighs, dropping her head back against the seat. “I take it back. That’s not stupid at all.”

Falling into a thoughtful silence, Avery refocuses on the road and realises where we are. With a sharp intake of air, her fingers start fidgeting as she looks up at the large hospital coming into view. It’s heaving with cars trying to park near the building, horns blaring with impatience to see loved ones. I pull over a few meters from the rear ambulance bay and reach across her to pop the passenger door.

“You head in. I’ll park and be up in a minute.”

Avery turns to me sharply, her small hands gripping my arm, so I’m stuck leaning over her. “No, you won’t,” she accuses, her cheeks staining pink. I swallow, finding myself far too close to her all-consuming eyes. “ You really think after these last few days I haven’t gotten some insight into your mind? Did you seriously just drive me all the way here just to turn around and leave?”

Her words hang in the air, daring me to argue. I don’t. Instead, I just hang there, wondering how she’s managed to crawl beneath my defenses. Then, when her stare becomes too intrusive, I move. Twisting the arm she’s holding, I grip the back of her neck and crash her lips against mine.

The kiss ignites my soul, spreading like a wildfire. She consumes me in an instant, eradicating who I thought I was and replacing it with who she needs me to be. My hand tangles in her hair, anchoring her to me as if letting go would break me. Her lips are soft but desperate, drowning out the rest of the world outside. The blaring horns, the chaos of the hospital, even the frantic thud of my own heartbeat. It all disappears until all that remains is her.

Her hands slide up my chest, fisting the fabric of my T-shirt as she pulls me closer, her breath mingling with mine in a frantic exchange. I pour everything into that kiss. The anguish, the longing, the unspoken words that I’ve been too much of a coward to say aloud. My thumb brushes her jaw, the fragile curve of her face fitting perfectly in my grasp, and I can feel the faint tremble in her body as if she’s holding back tears.

I won’t let her shed a single tear for me. I’m not worth her sorrow. Slowly taking her clawed hand in mine, I pry her fingers from my T-shirt. Carefully, gently, relieving her from keeping me here. I doubt she notices, too caught up in the clashing of our lips and the battle between our tongues. Even when we made love last night, which was indeed my first time, I didn’t allow this depth of emotion to seep through. I suppose that’s because this is a goodbye.

When I finally pull back, I don’t go far. Our foreheads touch, her shaky breath mingling with mine, her lips red and swollen. “Tell Axel I send my love,” I whisper hoarsely, my voice breaking under the weight of everything I can’t say. Pulling away, I will her to get out of the car. Leave whilst we both still can. Of course she doesn’t.

Avery’s arm snaps out, hitting me square in the chest. I take the hit, figuring it’s what she needs to vent, but I didn’t count on the hand that slams down on my crotch, takes a whole handful of cock and squeezes. Hard. I squeak, flinching a few inches out of my seat. Her grip is unrelenting, despite the genuine fear in my eyes. Leaning closer, Avery’s nostrils flare, and when she speaks, it’s with the most threatening tone her sweet voice can manage.

“Tell him yourself, asshole.” Jerking her hand, she traps my balls against my thigh and drives her fist down deeper. I try to twist in the seat, but there’s no release, and another small squeal that I’m ashamed of escapes me. “Park the car and I’ll see you inside.”

Whipping her hand away, I gasp at the release. My hands are hovering over my privates, hesitant to touch myself. The door slams, and she’s gone, leaving my heart punching against my chest and my tender cock recoiling into my body.

“Oh, Wyatt Junior. Why is it always you that pays the price?”