by Abigail Cole
“I’ve missed this,” I admit quietly. Huxley shifts onto his side and pulls me into his chest, his hands sprawling into my hair as he immediately drifts to sleep in our lovers embrace.
Garrett
“There!” Axel shouts from the passenger seat, pointing out of his window. Slamming on the brakes, I lean forward and squint to see a wooden sign hanging on a tree’s branch with the word ‘Avalon’ written in white script. The Nissan behind skids loudly, barely stopping before crashing into our bumper. Huxley waves his middle finger at me through his open window, causing me to smirk.
“How the fuck did you see that?” I mutter under my breath, turning the steering wheel into a dirt path hidden from view. “Are you sure this is the right place?” I ask, creeping the Bentley along the track being mindful of not scratching the paint job.
“That’s what the directions on the email said.” Avery small voice pipes up from the seat behind me, her eyes catching mine in the rear-view mirror. Those blue irises are filled with worry so I smile and act like everything is going to be fine, which I seriously hope it is. To be honest, we are all going into this blind, but one thing I know for sure after listening to Wyatt’s rants for years is that Nixon Hughes loves his daughter. He wouldn’t bring her on a three-day mission to put her straight back in harm’s way.
The trees start to hang lower, scraping against the car roof as we inch along the bumpy track. It takes much longer than necessary but I dare not arrive at our destination with wing mirrors missing or punctured tyres. A deer darts in front of the vehicle, my foot smashing against the brake and jolting us all forward. Luckily, I was going slowly enough that everyone and the deer are unharmed, only our jitters affected.
Continuing, I feel each person’s trepidation building as I force my hands to keep steady on the wheel. Winding around yet another bend, the dense forest opens to reveal a three-story beach house. Powdered blue walls stretch around a much larger structure than I was expecting, a wooden porch visible on the side. I spot yellow sand and a shimmering sea beyond the building, my chest suddenly bursting with excitement.
“Beach!” I yell, my previous anxiety disappearing as I jump from the car with the engine still running. Meg bursts from the house, hurtling towards Avery so I have to dodge her in my haste. Ignoring Axel’s shouts behind me, I push my legs at top speed toward the shore while tugging my vest over my head. Pulling my phone and Air Pods from my pocket, I chuck them into the sand for someone else to pick up and charge into the water. The cool water splashes around the heavy pound of my sneakers, my shorts sticking to my thighs as I dive into the water.
Swimming against a strong current, I breach the surface to see a huge wave crashing down onto my head. Being pulled down forcefully, I tumble and roll, fighting to find the way up. The tide steals my shoe from my foot causing me to shout underwater and lose previous air bubbles. Finally breaking free of the undercurrent, I gulp in a large breath and wipe the water from my eyes to look for my missing sneaker when another wave plummets onto me. Forcing my legs to kick powerfully in time with my arms, I push myself further into the sea until there’s no longer the sounds of crashing overhead.
Bopping up, the house is tiny in the distance as I safety float far enough away from the waves, my sneaker is well and truly lost. I bet some fucker finds it washed ashore and has a field day at the custom made hightop I probably should have laced tighter. Bending to pull the left one off, I launch it as far as I can into the vast ocean. Hopefully, the son of a bitch can find the other to have a matching pair.
My limbs are already aching from merely getting to this point of calm beyond the turbulent waves. Not wanting to waste my efforts, I take my time swimming lengths back and forth from the house to a fence I find down the coast. Irritation at my own stupidity begins to ease, the burn of exertion filling me like my own brand of adrenaline. I love everything about the sea, mainly the freedom it holds beneath its surface. A whole world is hidden from view down there - mountains and volcanos, sunken shipwrecks, stunning displays of coral.
Axel’s whistle carries to me on the wind, a speck of his figure waving to me from the beach so I turn back. A sea turtle drifts by, lazing contently under the sun’s rays. A marbled effect covers his brown shell which is smooth beneath my fingertips as I stroke it. Watching the creature pass, barely having to move its limbs, I smile to myself. That’s the life - no stress or commitments, just floating along enjoying the peace each day brings until a bull shark jumps up to eat you. Deciding turtles are my new spirit animal, I start to head towards my... whatever he is, just Axel.
Nearing the beach, the waves begin to pick up again, helping to push me the rest of the way now I’m not resisting. Realizing I can stand on the seabed, I rise to my full height and walk the rest of the way with water slapping across my back as I go. Emerging onto the beach in my soggy socks, Axel’s amber eyes assess with a hint of amusement and slight disgust. Closing the gap between us, I throw myself into his body and squeeze him tight, ignoring the sounds of disgust. Forcing his hands between us to push me away, I smirk at his now see-through white t-shirt sticking to his muscled torso.
“What happened to your shoes?” he questions.
“Sea stole ‘em. Waves are a bit choppy today,” I grin as he shakes his head at me.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you. Here, take these back and go fight over a room like the oversized man-child you are.” Axel hands me my phone and Air Pods with a roll of his eyes.
“You mean our room,” I run my tongue up his cheek and flash my dimples in the way I know he loves. I mean, likes. Ugh whatever. He’s right, I’ve been wasting precious time to throw someone out of the room with the best sea view. Looking up at the house, I’ve already picked out which one I’m taking and run towards the house.
Slipping my socks off and leaving them on the porch railing, I locate our bags in a heap on the living room floor. Shouldering mine and Axel’s, I nod a greeting to Nixon, who’s sitting on the sofa glaring at me, and stride upstairs. He’s not my dad and Avery asked me to come, so his issues with me are not my problem. I don’t put on a false front or change my mannerisms for anyone.
Opening the door of my selected room, I frown at the floral blue suitcase upon the bed surrounded by stacks of folded clothes. Well, shit. I can’t kick a female from her room, I may be a dick but even I have my limits. Avery’s therapist walks in from the bathroom, jumping and gripping her chest in fright at the six-foot, topless man filling her doorway. A floaty peach skirt with a high-slit sits at her waist, a tightly fitted white vest on top with brown waves lying on her shoulders. Wondering why she would be here, it takes me a second to remember she is Meg’s mom.
“Holy broccoli stems, you scared me!” My eyebrows raise and I snort as she collects her and straightens. “It’s Garrett, right? I’ve just met your friends; I didn’t realise Avery was bringing all of you.” I shrug with one shoulder, starting to turn away when I notice she has her toothbrush and paste clutched in her hand.
“Are you leaving?” I ask, trying not to sound too hopeful. She smiles sadly, opening the suitcase to pack the items spread across the mattress with expert organisation.
“I’m afraid so. Nixon thinks it’s best that I return to keep up appearances - act normal.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I call dibs on your room.” I saunter inside, setting the black duffel bags by the bay window. Axel is still out on the beach, having cleverly removed his shoes and socks to wander along the water’s edge. He repeatedly runs a hand over his head, meaning he is deep in thought, worrying or both. I’ll beckon him up here shortly and help him forget about any concerns that might be troubling him.
“Ahh,” the therapist says beside me, making it my turn to flinch. Sneaky little devil. “I know that look. How long have you two been a couple?” I choke on my own inhale, spluttering and spinning around to face away from the delicious view.
“I don’t do monogamy.” I state gruffly, hel
ping fill the rest of her clothes into the bag haphazardly to move this conversation swiftly along.
“And why is that?”
“The notion to be trapped with one person for the entirety of life is ridiculous to me. People are constantly changing, whoever I may or may not fall in love with now won’t be the same person in five, ten years. No one will stick with me for that long anyway.” Zipping her suitcase closed, I place it onto the wooden floor.
“Does being with Axel make you feel trapped?” Her brown eyes pierce my skull, reading my thoughts.
“Well, no but he’s... ahh, I see what you’re doing here. You can save your therapist voodoo for paying clients. I’m content with every aspect of my life.” Kicking the wheeled bag towards her, it halts at her feet, my intentions clear that she has overstayed her welcome. I’m not a gentleman by any stretch of imagination but I can’t stand people trying to worm their way into my head.
“Mmmm. Because being content is the goal.” She mumbles, looking back out of the window. A defensive part of me wants to whip the curtains closed, blocking her view of him in fear she can psychoanalyse him from here. Fuck my own, Axel’s issues are sacred. I’m the only one who can help him, I’m the only one he needs. If there was going to be one special person in the world I could see myself being… romantic with, it would be Axel. But that’s not who I am, and he knows that. Right?
Shouting sounds from downstairs, dragging my attention to the doorway. Leaving the therapist in the room, I take the stairs two at a time to see what the fuss is about. Nixon orders Avery and Meg to go upstairs, their sulky faces pushing past me as I hop from the bottom step. “What’s going on?” I ask no one in particular.
“A car has pulled up outside.” Huxley answers for me, everyone is standing around the living room poised for some kind of attack. Sweat lines Nixon’s brow as he flexes his hands beneath the cuffs of his cream shirt to match the black suit trousers and dress shoes that are at complete odds with our humid surroundings. Huxley and Dax are hanging back by the staircase, but if this is a real threat then I need to get to Axel.
Shooting through the kitchen, a shadow on the other side of the blinds follows me. My heart begins to beat wildly, emotions I can’t pay attention to rising and guiding my actions. Pausing with my palm hovering over the back-door’s handle, the figure steps in line with me, their face obscured by a black hood. From behind, Nixon shouts for me to move out of the way but there’s no way I can leave Axel out there now. Grabbing the handle, I twist and throw the door open, bracing myself for a fight. Green eyes widen at the sight of my raised fists, Wyatt’s eyebrows cocking in surprise.
“Well, hello to you too.”
Wyatt
A heavy weight collides with me from behind, sending me flying into Garrett. Initially thinking I’ve been attacked; I elbow and squirm until I recognise Axel’s fingers pushing in my hair and forcing my hood down. Garrett pulls us into his tight embrace, my bones threatening to crack under the pressure. It only hits me now how much I’ve truly missed my boys, a feeling that was much easier to suppress when they weren’t around. Releasing me so I can breathe again, I find Dax approaching to clasp my hand.
“Welcome back, I hope you’re staying?” His piercing gaze watches me closely as I slap on the relaxed smile I’ve been practicing the whole way here from the driver’s seat of Ray’s navy Sedan. Not having the words to lie to him, I nod and move into the modern kitchen, removing my backpack and placing it on the glass dining table. Blonde waves catch my attention, the saddest brown eyes I’ve ever seen glancing across the room but he makes no move to greet me. Crossing the kitchen, I initiate the hug this time, having known seeing Huxley would be the hardest part of this whole charade.
“Hey Hux.” Gripping him tightly, he buries his face into my neck and squeezes me with the same vigour.
“Why didn’t you return any of my calls?” His voice is muffled against my skin, moisture pooling in my collar-bone telling me a few tears have escaped him. I swallow down my guilt, forcing myself to remember the real reason I came here. “I’ve really needed you.” He whispers, clearly not wanting the others to hear.
“I know, I’m sorry man. I’m here now.” I pat him on the back, my heart breaking as I say the words knowing they’re not the truth. Needing to distance myself, I step back and my eyes land on my father standing uselessly in the living area. His hair has more grey in the temples than he’s ever allowed, disappointment etched into his pale blue eyes. Stubble lines his tense jaw that seems at odds with his overly smart attire.
“We need to talk.” There’s no fondness in his tone as he walks towards a staircase, clearly expecting me to follow. Hatred begins to seep back in, making it much easier to focus on my plan. Find the other twin and contact Ray when I somehow manage to get them all together under the same roof - most likely back in Atlanta.
Not in any rush to obey orders, I take in my surroundings. A charcoal grey sofa large enough to sit five people faces an impressive fireplace with two matching armchairs parallel. A dark coffee table divides the seats with a similarly coloured sideboard by the window, and absolutely nothing else. No TV or games consoles, no entertainment in the slightest. Wow, I can feel the boredom settling into my veins already.
Without anything else to do, I can feel four pairs of eyes following my movements as I march around the banister and take the stairs two at a time. My father is waiting impatiently, tapping his foot and checking his watch for added effect before disappearing into a room on the right. I stride onward purposefully, ready to get this over with as quick as possible.
“You look like crap,” my father says as I enter a study, handing me a glass of whiskey. I look down at my black hoodie, dark jeans and Timberlands thinking I look smarter than usual. “Not your clothes, you. Your eyes are bloodshot to shit and you’ve lost weight, are you on drugs?” Scoffing and refusing to answer such a stupid question, I throw myself into a deep red armchair beneath a huge bookcase. Tipping the whiskey into my mouth and swallowing, I hold the glass out for a refill. He huffs and rolls his eyes, but pours me another good measure anyway.
“Why are we here?” I ask instead. Closing the door and pulling a matching armchair around to sit in front of me, he sits with an ankle resting over the opposite knee. For a moment, he doesn’t speak. In the bright overhead light, shadows of creases pull at his eyes and mouth showing how much he has aged in the past month since I last saw him.
“There’s so much I need to tell you but I’m afraid I can’t stay long. An extremely dangerous man is after Avery so I need to keep moving, throwing him off her trail.” Staring at him for a while, I think carefully on how to respond – not wanting to say anything I shouldn’t know or give myself away. It’s imperative I keep them together but if I’ve learnt any of Nixon’s bad habits, it’s his stubbornness.
“Surely Avery is easy enough to track if someone really wanted to. You might as well stay close by if you’re so worried.” A loud sigh leaves him as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees to be closer to me.
“It’s not just Avery. Wyatt, I need you to hear every word I’m about to say.” He focuses on me with every ounce of his attention, something he hasn’t gifted me with for an exceptionally long time. I nod for him to continue. “Your mom and I adopted you at four days old to cover up the fact we had twin girls. It’s a long story I don’t have time to dive into, but you need to know this. You are our son and we’ve loved you in a way your biological mother never could. All three of you are our children, please never forget this.” Acting confused, I glance at the floor and draw my eyebrows together.
“I don’t understand. My eyes…”
“Are the exact reason we chose you. They were a perfect match to Cathy’s even as an infant, but none of that matters now. I can’t survive losing anyone else.” Exactly, I smirk to myself on the inside. A small part of me knows I should feel remorseful at the mention of my mom, but nothing penetrates the numb sensation that has taken up resid
ence in my body.
My father hangs his head, giving me a chance to look around the room we are in. An empty fireplace sits on the wall across from me, the lack of carbon residue tells me is has never been used. A desk is pushed against the huge window, giving a perfect sea view. The sun has begun its descent, thick rolling clouds turning orange on an autumn coloured sky.
“So, who’s the other girl? Presumably they are both in danger.” I finally ask when I figure it’s been long enough, trying to slow my pounding heart. My head pulls forward on its own accord, my ears pricked. Keeping his head low, avoiding my eye contact, his answer travels to me on a low breath.
“Meg.” My eyes widen, that one syllable setting off an explosion of emotions within. She’s been there all along, right in front of me. In my house, sharing my food. In one way, I feel relieved this mystery girl isn’t countries away or impossible to find, but another part of me spirals deeper into my self-loathing. This is another stab of betrayal proving I wasn’t good enough for the pair I’ve called mom and dad my entire life. They needed her close by, secretly completing their perfect family circle behind my back.
Standing, I move over to the window, unable to be close to him any longer. I’ve been used as a façade my whole life, a smokescreen to hide the fact the man behind me killed Sydney. Struggling to remember to breathe, my body shakes with treachery. The throbbing vein in my temple I haven’t felt for weeks starts pulsing again, adding extra irritation to my already foul mood. The glass clasped in my hand starts to splinter so I drop it onto the carpet. In my mind, I’m shouting every curse word I know and throwing the desk through the window. Shuffling behind me reminds me I’m not alone, and that I need to keep up this act for a little longer.