Chapter 24
Freya
Onyx purrs against my chest as I carry her down the stairs toward Archer’s apartment. I hope he doesn’t mind me bringing back a friend, but I couldn’t bear to leave her alone. Or maybe I don’t want to be alone. Either way, she’s joining us.
When I reach Archer’s place, I knock on the door, and Julian appears a moment later to let me in. The tension of that fight is buried deep within our bones, and I see it as clear as day on his face.
We are not used to the intensity of moments like that. Archer might be used to it now, which is why he’s unbothered by it. I just wish I understood why he is so insistent on doing this to himself. Is it really about adrenaline? Or is there something more?
“How is he?” I ask as I step inside.
“He’s soaking in the bath. He seems okay.” Julian’s voice is flat and his expression wary.
I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing that I am. That I care very much about Archer. And that I can’t possibly stay with him if this is what he’s going to subject himself to every night. It’s reckless. Irresponsible. Dangerous.
Is caring about him enough? What say do I have in Archer’s life at this point?
As I set Onyx down, she scurries off to explore Archer’s apartment. I press my face into Julian’s chest, and he wraps his arms around me. We don’t say a word as we hold each other. There are too many thoughts on our minds and not enough space or time to utter them.
When he releases me from his grasp, I walk toward the primary bedroom and into the en suite bathroom. It’s dim and quiet, and I spot Archer reclining in his tub with his arms draped over the sides.
Before I can even fully grasp what I’m doing, I tear off my shirt and slide my skirt down my legs. He glances up to see me as I unsnap my bra and shimmy out of my underwear until I’m completely naked.
There isn’t a worry in my mind as I step into the hot water facing him and drape my body against his chest.
His strong arms wind around me, holding me close as I breathe in the familiar scent of his neck.
Already, I find so much comfort in him—his smell, his touch, his voice.
The origin of that comfort was a very cold, scary night, stuck in an elevator with his strength and companionship to keep me settled.
This moment doesn’t feel all that different. I need Archer’s touch to comfort me. I need him to convince me that everything is okay. That he is okay.
“I’m so sorry, Chef,” he whispers against the top of my head.
“We care about you, Archer. Don’t you understand?” My voice cracks with emotion. My eyes sting, and when I take in another breath, it’s weighted with the urge to cry.
“I know you do.”
Julian’s shoes click against the hard floor as he enters the bathroom. He hovers somewhere nearby as Archer holds me.
“Other people care about you, Archer,” I say, and I feel him stiffen beneath me.
“I know,” he mutters coldly.
Lifting up, I stare into his eyes. “So why do you do it?”
“Because I want to.”
“Bullshit,” I say, catching him in his lie.
He looks momentarily offended. “Because it’s the only thing I’m good at.”
“Try again,” I bark in a fierce command.
He huffs as his thick brows pinch inward. Then, with sincerity in his eyes, he says, “To feel something.”
“Archer,” I start, but the words are lost on my tongue. Before I can argue with him, he continues.
“My dad lost his first son in a helicopter crash, and my entire life, I’ve felt like I was meant to be some savior sent to heal his pain.
He reminds me how much I look like Preston.
Act like Preston. Sound like Preston. But what does that make me?
Getting punched in the face is the only thing that distracts me from how fucked up I feel on the inside.
And beating my opponents is the only way I can prove to myself that I am not completely broken.
It’s something I have to actually work for.
A way to show that I’m actually worth something. ”
When I swallow, it feels like needles piercing my insides. Tears brim in my eyes because I don’t just hear his words. I feel them.
“So you think,” Julian adds in a solemn tone, leaning against the bathroom counter with his arms folded, “that if you ruin this perfect vision they have of you, they might actually see the real you and not the dead person you remind them of.”
Archer and I both turn to look up at Julian.
Softly, he mumbles, “My dad lost a son before I was born too. Miles. Every time my dad looks at me, I wonder if he’s searching for him.”
I see with painstaking clarity that their stories and their grief are so similar, and it makes my heart splinter with agony for them both.
“Exactly,” Archer mutters.
They are both so alone and scared and in pain, with no healthy and normal way to cope with it. Archer fights with his fists, and Julian fights with his words.
“Please don’t pity me,” he says, trying to look away and turn his face from my hands, but I don’t let him go.
“I don’t pity you,” I reply. “I love you.”
I love him so intensely already it scares me.
With astonishment in his eyes, he watches me for a sign that I’m lying or playing with his emotions.
“You are not broken. Neither of you are. You’re suffering, and you don’t need to. Not anymore.”
“I know, Frey. I have been down this road before. I’ve done therapy and drugs and rehabs and all the shit my parents could pay for to fix me, and nothing ever did. But this, this fixes me.”
“It’s not a fix,” Julian says. “It’s a coping mechanism. And not a healthy one.”
“You got a better idea, fancy pants?” he asks with a hint of annoyance.
Julian’s face doesn’t reveal anything before he shrugs. “If you want to feel things that won’t possibly kill you…then yes. I have some ideas.”
Archer scoffs. “I bet there’s a few things at your club that could make me feel things.”
Julian doesn’t react, only nods. “Yes. There are.”
I pull Archer’s face to mine. His eye is still swollen shut, and the gash above his eyebrow is red and throbbing, even with the bandage over it. “But why are you so insistent on those feelings being pain? Isn’t there another outlet that could be a little less…harmful?”
“Like what, Chef?”
“Like us,” Julian replies casually.
Archer turns toward him. “What do you mean, like you?” he asks.
“I mean, there are a lot of outlets we can provide so that you can feel something, Archer. You don’t need to get into these fights anymore. Let us fill that void.”
No one says anything for a while. I grab the bar of soap and washcloth on the edge of the tub, and I lather it up before delicately washing every inch of Archer’s skin. The blood on his knuckles. The sweat in his hair. The dirt from his skin.
As I clean his chest, Archer’s heart beats against my hand. I’ve never admitted to loving anyone before, and I know this is early, but it feels so right. I trust him and Julian like I’ve never trusted anyone before.
Archer’s lips are soft against the side of my head, and a sense of excitement builds in my core.
“Let’s go to bed,” he whispers.
I climb out of the tub, and Julian wraps me in a large white towel.
Thoughts swirl in my mind from the bath to the bedroom.
Thoughts like…how much I trust them and how ready I am to show them.
And thoughts like what Julian implied. How can we help Archer?
How can we be the glue that holds him together?
The outlet and distraction he craves. The safe place for him to land.
We are a mess. Julian is still so guarded with us, like he’s living behind a suit of armor that he won’t let us inside.
Archer is still so intent on finding this fighter who might hurt him so bad he never gets up again.
And I’m somehow trying to open a restaurant with little experience and no assets to my name.
How could we make a relationship through all this?
I slide into the bed fully naked. Deep within my bones, there’s a tremble of nervousness that I feel I need to explain. Archer climbs onto one side of the bed, and Julian takes the opposite side, both of them caging me in. They are both in their underwear.
Lying on my side, I let Archer wrap his arms around me and pull me close to his body, burying his face in my neck. His hands slide up my thigh, and I practically explode with anticipation as his fingers travel over my naked body.
Grabbing his battered and bruised face, I pull his lips to mine. He kisses me back with hesitation. After a moment, I turn and find Julian’s waiting lips, kissing them hungrily. I can sense both of their reluctance, and I don’t want that anymore.
If what Julian said in the bathroom was true, then we could be what Archer needs. He wants to feel something. He wants to prove that he’s not broken, and I want him to feel that too.
I’m tired of shying away and holding back.
I’m not doing this for them. I’m doing it for me.
And for us. I want this relationship to feel real, and if I want Archer to find comfort here instead of his fights and I want Julian to tear down his walls keeping us out, then I have to admit that I’m hiding too.
But I’m done hiding now.
Without another thought, I throw my leg over Archer’s hips and climb on top of him. He lets out a groan, his hands finding my hips.
“Are you in pain?” I whisper, touching the swollen, bruised parts of his beautiful face.
He shakes his head.
Then I lean over and run my tongue softly over his busted lip, tasting the dried blood there. As my hands slide up his chest, I whisper, “Can I make you feel good?”
Half sitting up, he slides his hands up my spine and into my hair. “Chef, you always make me feel good.”
As I take his mouth, gently kissing him to keep from hurting him more, my body lights with warmth and arousal. I’m ready for this.
I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.