Page 55 of Intertwined Souls

“Well, you look dapper,” Lincoln remarks with a nod.

I grin and note my suit. I have dress shoes on with black slacks, a black button-up, a red tie, and a black suit jacket. I’ve never worn a suit before, and I actually think I like it. Although, I’m positive Ryker and Cade won’t.

Lincoln and I head back out to the living room where everyone is waiting.

Rage offers Lincoln a beer, and Noah makes his way to my side. He glances at Lincoln and then back at me. “Everything good?”

I nod. “Yeah. He said he’ll be patient with me while I adjust to everything.”

“Good,” Noah grunts. “You look great, kid.” He turns to walk away, but then stops and looks at the hallway and chuckles. “Why am I not surprised that Gray is the only one in a full suit? You sneaky little shits.”

Cade is in black dress pants with a black button-up that has the top few buttons left open and the sleeves pinned up to his elbows.

Ryker is also in black but chose a matching red button up shirt and also left the top few buttons open. He has on a black suit jacket but has left it wide open. His normal rings are on his fingers, and he has two chain necklaces hanging down between the opening of his shirt. He looks… he looks amazing in his own Ryker way.

A way that I really love.

“Grayson, you look hot,” Ryker says, winking at me when I flush red.

Rage lets us all have a beer and about an hour before we’re supposed to be leaving, the back door opens and Carly walks in. Her eyes immediately find Rage, and then they jump to the three of us. “Harley needs you,” she tells us sadly.

We all walk closer to her, and Ryker tenses. “What’s going on?”

Carly hesitates, biting her lip. “She is just struggling with something.”

Glancing at the other two guys, I notice they are just as confused as I am, but then Cade speaks up. “I’ve got it. You guys stay here. I’ll text you,” he grunts.

Ryker goes to argue, but I grab his arm and shake my head. “Let him. He will be able to help her, and all of us showing up could be overwhelming.”

Ryker sighs through his nose but then nods and chugs down his beer.

Cayden

I silently follow Carly back to the club and upstairs. As soon as we step into Harley’s room, all eyes turn on me. Raven, Presley, Lex, and Brielle all have matching sullen and concerned looks on their faces.

Carly crosses the room and sits next to Raven on Harley’s bed, and Brielle clears her throat from where she stands in front of the closed bathroom door. “She’s in there. I can’t convince her to wear it,” she says sadly.

I furrow my brows, and Lex explains further, “She bought a dress that shows more of her scars. She was being open about them today but then panicked and doesn’t want to listen to any of us.”

Nodding, I walk over to the bathroom door and slip in without knocking. Shutting it behind me, I lean back and cross my arms, watching Harley as she sits on the floor across the room with her back against the wall.

She stares at me but doesn’t speak.

I can stay silent for a long time, so I just wait her out.

Her eyes hold her pain clear as day. Like she’s been sucked back into memories and is letting all the disgusting things that have been fed into her head from others and even from herself get to her.

Sighing, Harley finally runs her hands down her face. “Maybe we just shouldn’t go tonight.” Her voice is distant, like she isn’t truly in the room with me.

Tilting my head, I ask, “Is that what you actually want? None of us are going to be happy going if you aren’t happy to be there. Although, I don’t think you want to stay home.”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me,” she snaps at me and then deflates, dropping her back against the wall and staring up at the ceiling. “There’s things you guys don’t know… things I don’t even know how to talk about. I thought I was facing it by showing Lex last weekend and then showing the others today. None of them have judged me. One lady at the dress store did, but everyone came to my defense, and it felt so good.”

Allowing her to process everything and continue on, I stay silent, filing away that someone judged my girl and I’m going to need to know who it was and what they did.

“I have more scars,” she says quietly, dropping her head down and staring at her hands that are fidgeting in her lap. “They are worse. The dress I got… the back of it is mostly open, and it would show all of my scars. I-I thought I could handle it. I thought that I could adjust to not caring what other people think. What strangers think. But then—” She shudders and squeezes her hands into tight fists, digging her nails into her palms.

Understanding fills me as I realize what the problem is. It’s a very silly problem, but I can also understand the need to hear the words. To have the validation.

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