Chapter 76
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
Since when did I become the demon whisperer?
I can feel them all in there, now that I’m paying attention. It’s like we’re all in a group chat. Some days we’re all active, some days only some of us are. Sometimes they scream at me in all caps, and then I lose time. Bastards.
We’ve been on the island for a bit now, and things are getting calmer, in our head and outside of it. Holli is still pissed at Oakley, and he stands strong when he can. When he can’t, he drops to his knees in front of me, and I make him forget.
I’ve also taken up Oakley’s journal habit, scribbling notes like he does. Wyatt has started leaving them back. Huxley, too, but his are mostly drawings. He draws the snacks he wants to eat—mostly sweets.
There are others in the headspace, too. I’m not sure how many, but I think we’re up to at least five.
It seems like a hell of a lot, only I know there are more.
Something feels…missing. For shits and giggles, I’ve started calling the collective us The Hunter’s Club.
I also call them my demons, except they aren’t demons at all.
They’re headmates. Annoying ones at that.
It’s super fucking irritating to get interrupted mid-task and come back doing something completely different. Fucking rude.
I blink and find myself coming back to headspace, and I’m in the kitchen, despite the last thing I remember being the shower.
I glance around. Oakley is here, making food, and fuck, my stomach hurts.
Oakley glances back at me, hands deep in some sort of dough. “I said, hand me the cheese?”
I do, and the smell of cheese hits me, making my gut roil. I groan, and Oakley turns to me.
“You good?”
“Who was just out?”
Oakley shrugs. “Hux, but you guys just walked in here. Can you pull that pan over?”
I do as he asks, feeling uncomfortably full. Oakley brushes a wrapper into the trash. We just got a delivery of fresh food and snacks. And there in the trash I see an empty cookie tray.
My stomach grumbles.
“Oakley…” I frown. “Did I eat all those cookies?”
He looks around, then at the trash. “Oh, uh…I don’t know.”
I clench my fists as even the thought of the cookies makes me want to vomit. Huxley totally fronted to eat all the cookies and left so he didn’t have to deal with the consequences.
Can’t stand that bastard.
My stomach gives another turn, and I go to the trash. “Hold my hair.”
“What—”
“Hold my hair!” I yell right before I vomit into the trash.
“Oh shit.” Oakley comes over, rubbing my back. When I finish, I feel immediate relief. I glance over at Oakley, who’s rubbing his elbows up and down my spine, his hands still covered in dough.
“Hey, next time you see Huxley, can you beat his ass for me?”
Oakley purses his lips. “Won’t that hurt you?”
“You think you can hurt me?” I arch an eyebrow at Oakley. He gets that adorable scared look and takes a step back.
“Well, I…”
His flustered look makes me feel better already. I stalk toward him. “Maybe you need a reminder?”
“Don’t!” He backs into the counter, a frightened but thrilled look on his face.
I purse up my lips.
“Don’t fucking kiss me!” He’s squealing now.
I straighten with an offended hand to my chest.
“You just puked, and you want to kiss me?” Oakley waves his sticky hands at me like they’re some sort of weapon. “Get behind me, Satan.”
I give a pout, but I take a step back. “What are you making?”
"Pepperoni pizza. Huxley requested it, so back off and let me work.”
Oakley is so cute with the determined and bossy look he has.
Chuckling, I let him keep working, and as I watch him, I realize in this moment that I’m…
happy. And it strikes me how weird that is.
I’m choosing to hang out with someone, and we aren’t fucking or smoking.
More than that, I care about this person.
Oakley brings me peace. But more than what he does for me, I’ve seen him bloom in the last few weeks.
He’s still the same Oakley, but he’s less nervous.
He seems more sure of himself and who he is. It’s thrilling to watch.
Oakley starts bossing me around, and I grin. It’s really a perfect moment. All that’s missing is Holli to throw me sassy looks and to keep Oakley in line.
Maybe what I was missing all along wasn’t Molly or alcohol. Maybe it was just Oakley Rebel King and Holland fucking Weathersfield.
Holland. I feel that tug that means someone else wants to front, and I can fucking guess who. It’s the person who always wants to front whenever her full name is used.
Wyatt.