Chapter Fourteen
I hold Garrett until his shoulders cease to shake, holding up the weight of everything crashing down on him all at once. His hands are fists in my lap, being brushed lightly by my thumb running over his white knuckles.
“Garrett,” I whisper. He flinches slightly but doesn’t pull away. His head drops forward onto my thighs, dark strands of his hair falling across his face as he chokes out a shuddering breath. “You gonna be okay?”
“I’m not-” His voice cracks, raw and broken. “I’m not used to feeling this way.”
“I know.” My hands shift to his hair, running through the damp strands. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“It’s okay,” Garrett murmurs.
My eyes rove over the man in the bed. He doesn’t look like himself under the harsh lighting, his skin pale and his hair longer than I’ve ever seen it, in short, gray spikes covering his scalp. On his wrist, just above the hand I’m holding, is a very familiar compass bracelet. My chest tightens so sharply, I forget how to breathe, but I don’t let Garrett know it. He has enough to worry about.
The heart monitor beeps routinely, the only reminder that Axel is still with us. He’s so still, his lashes fanning his cheeks and his mouth slack. I’m praying behind those eyelids that he’s not suffering. That he’s not stuck in his own version of hell with us helplessly waiting on the outside.
At some point, as my mind ping-pongs between overthinking and becoming a blank slate, Garrett twists. He places himself between my legs, facing the bed. His head lies back, still being massaged by my hand while the other holds Axel’s. Garrett can’t see him, so his eyes find me instead.
Endless dark pools of emotion, swirling and staring. I succumb and tilt my head downward, drawing my hand over his cheek. His face presses against my palm, his warmth a contrast to Axel’s cool touch. A touch of wetness seeps through my leggings, rogue, silent tears seeping from Garrett’s eye. the curve of my neck, and I feel the damp warmth of his tears soaking into my skin.
“I’m here,” I remind him, rubbing his jaw in soothing strokes. “I’m not going to let you go through this alone.” His breath hitches, and then the dam breaks. A gut-wrenching sob tears from his chest, his hands clenching onto my arm and wrist like he’s afraid I might disappear. I tense my thighs around his shoulders, holding him as tightly as I can, rocking us gently in place, whispering soft reassurances even as my own tears threaten to spill over.
But I refuse to let them fall.
Garrett’s pain is palpable, heavy in the air between us. It’s in the way his body trembles, in the raw sound of his cries, in the desperate way he clings to me. He’s been shouldering this burden, carrying a weight that no amount of humor can penetrate. His heart is breaking.
After what feels like an eternity, his sobs begin to subside again. His breathing evens out, though it’s still shaky, and his hold on me loosens just enough to turn himself into my thigh, hugging my leg. I don’t try to shift him from the floor, figuring it’s where he wants to be. Where the ground is a solid presence, he can’t fall through, and I’m this anchor. I keep my hand on his face, grounding him, as I look down into his tear-streaked face.
“Right, come on. We can’t have Axel seeing you like this,” I tell him, firm but gentle. Garrett’s glistening dark eyes meet mine. I offer him a small, tentative smile, despite the wave of sadness that strikes everytime I see his bruises. “The best thing is to be our usual selves; give him a sense of normalcy. I’ve been here for almost an hour, and I’ve yet to see you eat anything.” His lips twitch upward in the faintest response. There he is, simmering under the surface.
The quiet is shattered by the sudden thud of a bag hitting the floor. Garrett and I both jump, startled, and our heads whip toward the door. Dax is standing in the doorway, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, and his blue eyes wide and rimmed with exhaustion. One of his hands is bandaged around a splint holding his fingers straight. His usual softness is nowhere to be seen, replaced by something hard and sharp. I swallow, watching it pass as he blinks, clearly expecting me to disappear like a mirage.
“Avery,” he gasps, seeming rooted in place. Huxley crashes into his back, the pair of them narrowly avoiding tripping over the duffle bag on the ground. Hux’s brown gaze hits me like a sledgehammer, my resolve threatening to crack again. Although that’s not what straightens my spine and steers my voice to sound so steady.
“Where have you been?” I raise a brow. Garrett remains curled against my leg; his arms slack now, his breathing slow and steady. I feel him shift slightly, angling himself away from the door like he’s not ready to face them with his face stained and eyes puffy. My free hand continues to stroke his hair, my touch soft and rhythmic, grounding him and myself.
“Us?” Huxley frowns around a split lip, a scoff of disbelief escaping him. I get the irony, but my body remains tense, taut with accusation.
“Yes, you. I walked into an absolute mess in here. Someone should have stayed with Garrett.”
“Well, excuse me ,” Huxley flies into full defensive mode. “If any more of us demanded to stay overnight, security would have had us all escorted out in handcuffs. We had to make a truce and stick to visiting hours. What else were we—” Dax places his good hand on Hux’s shoulder, settling his rant down to a muttered simmer. Stepping over the bag, Dax slowly crosses the room. His head is nodding, his eyes sunken.
“You’re right, we’re late. We ran into town for supplies. We don’t usually take this long.” Lowering onto his knees at my side, he leans into my side, breathing me in. Warmth stirs at his presence, and as I open my arm to hug him, he presses his face against my ribs. “I’ve missed you.”
Dax’s quiet admission sends a ripple through me, his words laced with exhaustion, relief, and perhaps guilt. My arm tightens around him while I shake my feet from my shoes and cross my legs over Garrett’s middle. All the while, Axel has my outstretched hand.
“I’ve missed you too,” I reply, threatening to fall into the sea of blue blinking up at me. Somehow, the edges of my memory had forgotten just how beautiful he is in person. How viscerally my heart reacts to him. He’s here. They’re all here, barring one who seems to have lost his way.
Huxley stands frozen just inside the doorway, his eyes darting between me, Garrett, and Dax. His jaw works, tension etched into every line of his face, but he doesn’t say anything. Not yet. Instead, he steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate, like he’s not sure if he’s welcome.
“We’ve been through hell this week,” Hux mutters, tinged with concern. His gaze locks on Axel, silently sleeping, and then slides to me. “For multiple reasons.” Coming to stand just behind me, Huxley lets out a weighted sigh, raking a hand through his blonde hair. “Sorry for being away so long, Gare. I could lie to you and say town was busy, but truth is I wasn’t in a rush to get back. I can’t stand looking at Axel like… this.”
Like a siren on the shore, Garrett blinks out of the numb ravine he’d slipped into. I feel him startle at how close everyone is. There’s a long pause before he lifts his head slowly, his eyes bloodshot and heavy-lidded as he briefly meets Hux’s gaze.
“It’s fine, man. I get it.”
Huxley’s hands lower to my shoulders, rubbing out the tension settled there. He works his way down, his thumbs brushing against my neck and collarbone, eventually folding himself over to hug me. His hair tickles my face, his deep breaths skating over my front. I cling to them all, rooted to that single chair and connecting us in the only way I know how. I’ve been missing for a week, but it’s enough for the fractures to grow. Enough for the Shadowed Souls to splinter from the inside out. At least now, we’re together and we can rebuild. We can find our ways back to each other.
“The fuck—” a harsh curse slices into the room as Wyatt trips over the bag still in the doorway. Huxley’s hold around me tenses, and he whips upright. Within a flash, I’ve released Axel, dodged those on the floor, and I am standing in front of Huxley’s heaving chest, making an effort to hold him back.
“Step aside, Swan,” he demands, devoid of the gentle tone he’d only just found. I stand firm, giving him a little shove to look at me.
“No,” I set my jaw. “it's not what you think. Wyatt was protecting me, in his own barbaric way,” I grumble, wondering why my instincts are screaming at me to defend him. I guess our relationship really has come far in the past week. Huxley tries to push me aside into Dax’s waiting arms, but I refuse to budge. “Huxley, I won’t let you hurt him.”
“It’s fine,” Wyatt sighs dramatically from across the room. He’s paced to the foot of the bed, lifting Axel’s medical notes and scanning through them. “I deserve it.”
“Oh my god, will you stop?!” I hiss over my shoulder, narrowing my eyes with as much venom as my fragile heart can muster. “This pity party bullshit is done. You don’t deserve it, and we don’t need to pretend we hate each other anymore. Those days are done.”
Something akin to pity sparks in Wyatt’s green eyes. Mourning the old days when it was easy. Push me away and hide from his feelings. Not anymore.
“Aves,” Dax clears his throat, tentatively brushing my arm. “Let them hash it out. It’ll be okay.”
I only realise now that I’m trembling. The strain of trying to piece them all back together to fix the bonds that have been broken, is too much for me alone. I close my eyes to exhale, and Huxley’s small nudge on my hip eases me in Dax’s direction.
Opening them, I look back to Garrett, now planted in the ‘hand-holding’ seat. He nods before returning his attention to Axel, reminding me of why we’re here. Of what’s really important. I stumble into Dax’s arms, allowing him to hold me up in the hug I’ve been needing. His bandaged hand is careful to remain untouched.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers into my ear again, pressing a kiss against my neck. “I’ve needed you.” I melt into Dax’s body, my arms wound tightly around his neck. There isn’t an inch of space between us, our hearts syncing and erasing the past week of separation. In Dax, I find my home, as I do in all of them.
Twisting to look over my shoulder, I watch Huxley approach Wyatt with bated breath. I wait for the fist clench, the first swing, but it doesn’t come. Instead, when Hux raises his arms, it’s to engulf Wyatt in a similar hug to the one Dax has me caged in. Shocked, green eyes catch mine, Wyatt’s face falling slack and then twisting in confusion. Words I can’t hear are muttered, emotions filtering through Wyatt’s features I’m not accustomed to seeing.
Dax shifts against me, his head lifting slightly as he looks over at Garrett. “We brought food,” he says, looking to fill the silence around the heart monitor. “Not great food, but it’s something. Figured you’d be starving.”
“Starving,” Garrett mutters. His tone lacks its usual enthusiasm, but when he finally sits back, scrubbing a hand over his face, I can see the faintest hint of gratitude in his expression.
Dax pulls back, his warmth leaving my side as he reaches for the bag he dropped earlier, unzipping it and pulling out a stack of sandwiches and bottled drinks. Setting the food on the small table by the window, he pulls out a packaged object and carefully places it down.
“And we got this.”
Garrett’s eyes drag across the room, settling on the chrome-handled razor. He vaults himself out of the seat with more energy than I reckon he actually has. Dax’s head tilts, hiding a small blush. “I know there’s not much we can control in our current state, but I thought this is something we can do.”
Garrett steps around me and Dax, his jaw tightening as he crosses the room. For a second, I think he is going for the razor, but instead, he turns away and pulls Wyatt into a rough, almost desperate hug. I suck in a sharp breath, not realising how much it meant to me that Wyatt was accepted back into his brother’s fold. How much it matters that we’re all connected and no one is left behind.
“Don’t ever fucking disappear like that again,” Garrett growls, his voice thick. “She’s all of ours, and we all get a say in how to keep her safe.” Dax nuzzles against my neck, unable to let me go quite yet.
“Or you know, I could just decide for myself,” I raise a brow. Wyatt and Garrett look at me like that’s the stupidest thing they’ve ever heard and start to chuckle, rubbing each other’s backs. Despite being the unwilling cause of their comedy, the tension has broken, and for that I’m thankful. A small smile tugs at my own lips .
Garrett breaks away, ignoring the food in favor of picking up the razor. He beckons us all to come over to the bed, taking my hand in his.
“Up you go, Peach,” he directs. Huxley and Dax take care to lift Axel’s sleeping form upright so that I can slip in behind him. His weight is crushing, despite the lack of definition in his muscles. Wyatt ducks his head, feet shuffling towards the window, when Garrett catches him by the collar of his shirt. Planting the razor in Wyatt’s hand, he has no choice but to join us.
Dax fetches an overbed table from across the room. On it, he places a water jug, plastic cup, and can of shaving foam one at a time, whilst Huxley grabs a few hand towels from the bathroom. With careful, measured movements, we all work to lay the towel across my stomach and lower Axel’s head back in his new upright position.
Without much discussion, we all fall into our roles. Wyatt swallows thickly, dipping the razor into Dax’s cup of water, watching the ripples spread across the surface. Garrett is in charge of foaming. Wyatt stands beside me, steady and focused, his movements deliberate as he begins shaving Axel’s head. Huxley has a towel ready to gently wipe the path Wyatt’s razor takes, presenting freshly shaved patches. Before me, Axel comes back into view.
When Wyatt hands me the razor, Dax and Garrett move in to lift Axel’s head and shoulders again. My fingers wrap around the handle, and Wyatt’s fingers close over mine. I don’t dare blink up at him the way I want to, intent on gliding the razor up the curve of Axel’s neck. Wyatt leads me through it, each stroke removing the uneven growth and revealing the smooth, pale skin beneath. It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough. We’re working together to care for him. He’d love it.
Section by section, we pass the razor around, each of us contributing to the slow transformation. Garrett hovers nearby, his brow furrowed in concentration as he angles the razor awkwardly around Axel’s temple. Dax steps in to help, tilting Axel’s head to reveal the delicate spot behind his left ear.
We tilt his head this way and that, all intent on watching the smooth glides until his extra scalp is exposed. My hands are steady, but my chest feels tight, Axel’s weight pressing down on me. He’s still so motionless, his breaths shallow but steady. I swallow hard, pushing the thoughts aside and focusing on the task at hand. With a final brush of the blade over his forehead, Garrett withdraws and smiles. Finally smiles, like his heart is about to burst. It eases everything tight in me.
Dax gathers the towels beneath his arm and the hair-filled cup in hand, disappearing into the bathroom. Garrett takes the razor back to the bag while Huxley and Wyatt help to hold Axel and I slip out. As the boys find chairs to settle into, I stay by Axel’s side, running my fingertips lightly over his newly shaven head. He looks... lighter somehow. The sharp angles of his face stand out more now, and there’s a soft reminder of the Axel I know.
“So,” Hux opens a bottle of water and takes a long swig. “You gonna tell us what you did with our Little Swan?” He looks back to Wyatt, leaning on the window sill. Wyatt’s eyes meet mine, a slight panic in his tightened lips. Where would he even start?
“I hope you weren’t gentle,” Garrett pitches in from his chair. “We weren’t in any of our practices.” I feel a blush rush to my cheeks, and I throw a dare stare in his direction. Garrett chuckles, throwing his legs up to cross his ankles on Huxley’s thigh and taking a large bite of a sandwich.
Wyatt opens his mouth to respond but is thankfully cut off by the clicking of high heels echoing in from the hallway. Glancing towards the door frame, I see Garrett’s face fall. The smile he’d only just found disappears, his sandwich forgotten on the table. I grip onto Axel’s hand protectively, anticipating a threat advancing on us.
A doctor steps into the room, followed by a woman dressed for a business meeting rather than a hospital visit. A navy jumpsuit clings to her curves, pink detailing around the bust to a matching sash tied tightly to cinch her waist. Her neck and ears are dripping with expensive jewellery, her dark hair pulled back into a chignon bun.
“Who are you?” Huxley stands and confronts her. There’s barely any height difference between the two with her six-inch heels. Ignoring the question, the woman’s pale brown eyes drag over Axel lazily and come to rest on our joined hands. Her perfectly painted red lips lift in a sneer, the true reflection of her ugly personality coming to the surface. Straightening my shoulders, refusing to be intimidated, I latch onto Garrett’s answer, dripping with venom.
“Although she doesn’t deserve the title, this is Axel’s mom.”