by Abigail Cole
Avery retrieves some thick blankets and cushions from inside, adding homely touches to my master plan. When I’d gone in search and found the three of them in the gym earlier, I’d been more than surprised with their instant agreement to help me. I hadn’t given any of them enough credit, having been too focused on Axel to remember these fuckwits are still my family. The only one I’ve got.
The grandfather clock inside chimes, announcing the arrival of the late hour I asked Axel to meet me down here. I quickly shoo everyone back inside, putting a pin in thanking them as I tell them to fuck off. Running a hand through my hair, I smooth it over and frown at my tracksuit. Maybe I should have changed. Axel steps into view, the sight of his muscular frame in his basketball kit and slanted smile instantly banishing all my doubts. If he’s with me, nothing else matters.
“You look amazing,” I breathe. His brows quirk as if I’m exaggerating but I’ve never been more serious. From his freshly shaven head to the single mole on the sole of his right foot, he’s perfect to me. Sliding my arm into his, I lead him outside. Wood crackles within the firepit, a faint line of smoke drifting upwards. The scent of fresh cut grass drifts to us, Axel’s favourite smell, after I forced the butler to skip serving Sharon’s dinner and mow the lawn instead.
“What is all this?” Axel asks, his tone laced with surprise.
“I wanted to talk,” I mumble, suddenly and ridiculously shy. I don’t usually handle opening up very well, but the whole bottle of Jack Daniels I downed a short while ago has definitely taken the edge off. Holding the double hammock still, Axel settles himself inside carefully. Nudging in beside him, I cover us with a checked blanket and slide my arm beneath his head, so he’s forced to snuggle into my side – not that he needed any encouragement. We stare up at the stars, all the words I want to say muddling in my mind, yet nothing spills from my lips.
“What did you want to talk about?” Axel finally asks the question I knew was coming but was still dreading.
“So much has happened this past week. We didn’t get to finish our conversation from before…” My eyes drift to his stomach, wishing for the millionth time I could have taken his place.
“We argued, it’s what people do.” Axel shrugs. “We’re back to normal again now.”
“No, it’s what couples do. And we’ve never been normal. So where does that leave us?”
“I thought you didn’t do labels,” Axel grins up at me but I can’t return it. He’s acting as if we can still be carefree fuckbuddies like before, but surely he can sense everything has changed. This soul consuming, heart pounding pressure I’ve been carrying around can’t possibly be one sided.
“You said when I was ready to say the words out loud, you’d be ready to hear them. Is that still the case?” I hedge around what I really want to say, fearing his answer. If Axel rejects me, I don’t think I’d survive it. Shifting onto his side with a grunt, he stares into my eyes, searching for truth in my words.
“I don’t want you to get confused between caring for me and feeling for me. Maybe you’ve got caught up in being with me too much, but when we return to Waversea, think of how you’ll feel with all the ladies fighting for your attention again. If you continue down this path, I fear its only me who is going to get hurt.” I grind my jaw, focusing on a bright star directly above. He was all for us before but it’s like he’s trying to push me away. I must make him see how badly I want this.
“You know you’re the only one I’ve ever had meaningful sex with and the connection is real. But I want to be more than physical with you.” A glaze covers his amber eyes, so much hope held within their depths that I long to fulfil.
“People don’t change overnight Garrett. I can tell you want to, but I don’t think it’ll be enough. Why can’t we keep things the way they were?” The strangest notion to cry pricks the back of my eyes, something I haven’t done in so long I thought my tear ducts had seized up. I can sense I’m losing this battle, but I can’t give up.
“I’m not the same person I was, even just last week. I nearly lost you and, in that moment, everything I wished I’d said to you nearly consumed me. I want more, I want you. And I need your help to get there.” My free hand winds around his neck, my thumb stroking his strong jawline as I tilt his face up towards me further.
“Gare, I can’t- “
“Please Axel. We can do this, be a proper couple.”
“I don’t believe you.” He breathes, my heart hitching on half a beat. I can tell I’m hurting him, but I can’t stop. If I close myself off now, I’m certain I’ll never be able to open up to another again. I’m ripping out my bloody, charred heart and offering it to him on a platter.
“Then believe this.” I close the small distance between us to press my lips against his. Kissing him tenderly, drawing him into my body to tell him I’m all his. His lips are achingly soft, my raw heart beating in time to his as we lose ourselves in the moment. Breaths mingling, stubble grazing. A salty wetness seeps into my mouth, Axel’s tears glistening in the candlelight. I kiss a trail up each of his cheeks, banishing his doubt and saying a silent vow to never make him cry ever again.
“I promise to never hurt or let you down. Be my boyfriend Axel, just mine and I’ll be all yours. Only yours.” I turn into his body, our chests pressing against each other and I place a hand over his heart. I draw a line across his jaw with my nose, nuzzling into his neck the way he likes. I won’t stop until he understands how much I need him. Kissing back up to his ear, I rest my forehead against his to stare straight into his incredible eyes.
“Say yes,” I whisper against his lips. It feels unnatural to let so much vulnerability show in my features, the only person I’ve ever deemed worthy of fighting for holding my future in his hands.
“Yes.”
Avery
Usually I hate the rain, but as I lie in bed pretending to be asleep, I’m thankful for the cover its going to provide me for what I’m about to do. With everything that’s been going on, I’d almost forgotten what today was, but luckily a whisper came to me in a dream and jolted me awake. The day has just broken although no one would think so with the looming, grey clouds filling the sky though our net curtain. Sliding silently out of the bed, Huxley’s light snores still sounding from the opposite side, I crawl to the chest of drawers I’ve claimed and pull out some black jeans and a long-sleeved top. Piling my underwear and biker boots into my arms, I creep around the edge of the room, unhooking Huxley’s jacket from the back of the door before slipping out.
Only the constant ticking of a grandfather clock below the bannister sounds as I rush into the bathroom to wash and change. Dragging my fingers through my hair, I quickly braid it down the length of my spine and I pull the large hood low over my eyes to conceal most of my features. Feeling the heavy weight of the jacket’s pocket in my hand, my head starts to spin with anticipation. Taking a steading breath, goose bumps line my arms between the cotton, I tiptoe back into the hallway and down the darkened staircase.
Butler Bill rounds the corner by the kitchen, my heart lurching as I dive behind an unnecessarily tall vase. He passes in his full butler attire, coattails, and all, too focused on the shaky tray in his hands to notice me. The scent of buttery toast and sweet tea coil around me, my stomach grumbling in protest, but I don’t have time for breakfast. If any of the guys discover what I’m doing, they’ll tie me to the bed and won’t let me out of their sight for a long time.
Carefully checking each corner before continuing, I move through the mansion as quickly as I dare and come to a halt at the front door. Glancing back at the stillness behind me, I leave the safety within and escape into the pouring rain. Fat droplets pelt onto the jacket instantly as I fumble in the pocket to remove the Nissan’s keys, briefly wondering if I should have left an apology note. I sprint over to the flash of headlights as I unlock the doors, diving inside as a flash of lightening bursts overhead.
A tiny part of me is screaming it’s not too late, run back inside, sl
ip into bed and pretend nothing happened. But I can’t do that. My conscience will never forgive me. Pushing the key into the ignition before I can chicken out, the windscreen wipers begin swaying frantically and I slowly ease the car out of the driveaway. The loosening of freedom I thought I’d feel doesn’t come as I pull onto the street, more like a painful tightening of dread. Rain batters against the windscreen, making each traffic light and street name hazy but fortunately, I know exactly where I’m going.
Pulling up against a sidewalk a short while later, the sun has begun to peek through the clouds. The raindrops have lessened to a gentle sprinkling over the stationary car and I trail my fingers along the trickling pathways they create down the windowpanes. I’ve parked a few streets over, erring on the side of caution even though it takes a little longer, winding through backstreets and circling back on myself to make sure I wasn’t followed. Tugging the hood back down to cover the top half of my face, I exit the vehicle without wasting any more time on ‘what ifs’ and finish my morning adventure on foot.
Halting in front of the iron gates that have kept me safe from outside threats for the past seven years, I stare longingly at the building within. I’d expected the mansion to be deserted but still, the lack of light within and shadows cast over the outside seem sadly cold. No one would believe we hosted the best Halloween parties or danced around the Christmas tree on December 1st, singing at the top of our lungs. The stone walls appear to have long forgotten the lively personality mum once brought, the wilted flowers no longer able to blossom without her laughter around.
Checking either side of me, there’s not a soul around except for a red Mini Cooper parked at the end of the street so I discreetly key the pin into the side gate and slip inside. Jogging up the gravelled driveaway, I head to the back of the house and duck out of sight from the main street. Leaves and twigs litter the swimming pool, beer bottles strewn across the patio from our rushed exit.
Dropping to my knees by the French sliding doors, I scramble my way through a thick bush to the left until my fingers graze the hidden key box attached to the outer wall. Without needing to see, I’m able to locate the finger sensor and release the key to let myself into my home. An overpowering stale smell hits me before I notice the layer of dust covering every surface. Tiptoeing, despite being alone, I head for the kitchen first and pluck Detective Vincent’s contact card from the refrigerator. Dirty dishes are piled in the sink, the clumps of mould covering them making me gag.
Deciding to call Susie in when I get back to Axel’s to sort this place out before it becomes uninhabitable, I move into Nixon’s office and settle myself into his leather chair. He always kept spare cell phones in his desk drawer for some reason, although now I understand his need for multiple burners. Plucking out the first one I grab; I switch it on to dial the number on the card. The dial tone sounds on repeat while my eyes drift over the mess of strewn papers and open cupboards the police must have left.
“Hello?” a familiar voice answers after almost a full minute.
“Hey, Detective Vincent. It’s Avery.” I swing side to side in the chair as a there’s a slight pause on the other end of the receiver.
“Oh my, Avery! I’ve been so worried about you. Where have you been, are you safe?”
“Yes, I’m safe. I’ve just popped back to my house to do something quickly. I’m staying at my friend Axel’s place which is convenient because he lives nearby in Georgia too. I just wanted to see if you had any news on the men that kept breaking into my house?” I ask coyly, not wanting to spill the secret of Meg being my twin but also secretly hoping Perelli has been identified and Meg has already been rescued.
“No leads unfortunately. Have you come across any clues as to who they might be?” I bite my bottom lip, wondering whether to tell her everything I know in the hopes it will save Meg quicker. But Nixon was adamant her link to me was kept a secret, so I must trust I’ll find another way.
“Nothing,” I sigh. We finish the conversation pleasantly and I immediately power off the cell phone, slipping it into my coat pocket in case I need it for later. I don’t know how I’m ever going to find my twin, but I’ll never stop trying. I just need a clue as to where Wyatt might have taken her. I know Perelli runs the mob in Chicago, but I can hardly drive there and start asking randoms on the street where he lives. Although soon that might be my only option. Not to give him any credit, but weirdly I think Wyatt has helped me to face the fearsome reality of the world I was hiding from. I’m invincible now, and nothing will stop me from getting my twin back.
A bang sounds upstairs, my heart lurching in panic. My breathing halts as the room starts to tilt, panic seizing my body. A part of me wants to crawl beneath the desk and hide, I was just praying for a lead and I might have found one. Sliding out of the chair, I dash to the wooden sideboard and lift the lid where a double-barrelled shotgun is hidden. My mum had insisted I visited a gun range once every three months to boost my confidence and learn to protect myself, so I load in the two shells and brace myself to put her money to good use.
Twisting the doorknob, I push the door open with my foot. Both hands are on the gun, my eye trained down the lens as I dash across the hall into the gym. Moving into the hidden staircase at the back, I creep up the stairs and nudge the top door open with the gun’s muzzle. Shuffling catches my ears, a figure shifting back and forth in the master bedroom. There’s a duffle bag on the end of the unmade bed, wads of cash piled into it. A man walks back to the bag, stuffing several passports and documents into the bag’s side pockets. He is almost unrecognizable in khaki shorts and a garishly printed shit, his hairs almost fully silver and a beard lines his jaw. But I’d know him anywhere.
“Nixon?!” I shout excitedly, bursting through the doorway. He whirls around with a handgun pointed directly at my forehead, his blue eyes wide with shock and confusion.
“Avery? Where, what…what were you thinking, I could have killed you!” I can’t help but smile, dropping the shotgun as I run into his body for a hug. I was so worried I wouldn’t see him for so long and with everything that’s happened, he’ll know what to do. His strong hands land on my shoulders, pushing me back a step so he can assess me. “What are you doing here?” he growls.
“It’s mum’s birthday,” I shrug like that’s the most rational thing in the world. “I had to visit the makeshift grave I made for her by the honey blossom tree.” Nixon’s eyes flick to the smart watch on his wrist to confirm today’s date which makes him frown. He never forgets an important date, but if that’s the case this time, why is he here? I glance between the duffle bag and the open safe on the opposite wall, most of its contents cleared out. Holy shit, this is what I’ve been waiting for.
“They’ve contacted you, haven’t they? You’re going to pay a ransom to get Meg back.” I beam widely, relief washing over me. Nixon doesn’t seem as optimistic though, the creases in his forehead deepening.
“Wait, Megan’s missing? How did that happen and why aren’t you in the safe house where I left you?” The way he said the last bit makes it sound like he wasn’t planning on ever coming back.
“Wyatt tricked us. He kidnapped Meg and took her to Perelli. I’ve been trying to think of a way to save her but you can help me. Where does he live?” The full bellied, sinister laugh Nixon releases makes me feel two inches tall.
“Avery, sweetheart,” he pulls me around to perch on the edge of the bed and tucks me beneath his arm. “I’m sorry, but if Perelli has Meg then there is nothing we can do. But maybe this is a blessing, you finding me here. I have a private jet leaving for Tokyo in two hours and I’ve had false documents for you since we brought you back home. Come with me, we can live without fear.” Rising and crossing the room, Nixon pulls out a handful of forged documents and hands them to me, each one with my face but a different name on.
“But Meg needs us. We can’t run away and leave her.”
“I know it won’t be easy, but I think it is best to accept she might already be
gone. We have a chance to get out of here, she’d have wanted that for you.” I’m already shaking my head, refusing to believe his words. Fury as hot as lava bubbles in my chest that he dared to use the past tense while speaking of her. Meg is a part of my soul; we share a spirit and I can feel she’s still alive.
“What kind of cowardly piece of shi- “A crash bellows through the building, the ground beneath our feet shaking viciously. Brick flying and glass shattering are quickly followed by a man shouting, ordering others to fan out and ‘find her.’ Nixon whirls on me, his features livid and fingers biting into my upper arms.
“Who did you tell you were coming here?” A hiss escapes me from his grip, the man I thought I knew glaring at me as if I’ve ruined his plans. My eyes land back on the duffle bag as it dawns on me, he hasn’t been drawing Perelli’s attention away from us like he said – he’s been running and hiding this whole time. Leaving us to fend for ourselves in his fight.
“No one,” I snarl back, shoving his hands off me. Thunderous footfalls are racing up the stairs, doors banging open as they get closer. My eyes dart to the safe, the large rectangular space probably just deep enough for me to squeeze into. Without wasting any time, I run across and hoist myself into the steel box, pulling my knees up to my chest and cranking my neck. Nixon is there in a second, pushing the door closed with a millimetre gap spare. Replacing the portrait of my mum on the wall, the tiny crack of light I had dissolves a second before the door to the room bursts open.
“Where is she?” A gruff man’s voice shouts, a smash reverberating through the wall as I imagine Nixon is thrown against it. More men enter, the sound of shouting becoming deafeningly loud until I’m forced to cover my ears. My mind goes wild, flashing images to match the scuffles and crashes I can still hear. My heart is pounding, a rising panic attack threatening to consume me, but I just about keep it shimmering for now. Nixon’s shouts grow quieter until they disappear altogether, leaving me alone and unsure what to do.