Page 75 of Forged By Shadows

“Can I help you?” Avery tilts a brow. The air between those two hasn’t been quiet right since the manor, before the attack and everything went to shit. Wyatt crosses his arms, taking a defensive stance.

“Yes, actually. I need you to convince Huxley to take a shower, leave his room and get on with his life.” Our presence has attracted the attention of the others, who look at me questionably and I shrug back. Not Avery though, she’s growing used to this back and forth, remaining impassive.

“Why me?”

Wyatt thinks over his words. “I believe it can only be you. So I’m asking nicely.”

“Strange,” Avery hums, her interest returning to her book. A gentle wind blows the chair, a light creak accompanying the shift of her braided hair. “I thought niceties went hand in hand with manners.” I take a step back to hide my smirk. I haven’t been asked here as a witness, but as a referee. Unfortunately, I’m not in the mood to break the pair of them up today. I’m a one-melodrama-at-a-time kind of guy.

Sighing deeply, Wyatt’s arms fall to his sides. Here it comes.

“Please.”

My brows shoot to my hairline. Lifting her blue gaze, Avery closes the diary and carefully places it in her lap.

“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you over the grinding of your teeth.” Oh she’s good. She’s learnt so well. Avery doesn’t even falter, as if she’s been waiting months to deliver back the shit Wyatt’s been dealing out to her. I reckon if he were to drag her into a whiskey-infused cupboard now, she’d barely react. Simply wait to be released and then attack him like a lioness, all blonde mane and sharp claws.

“Please can you convince Huxley to leave his room. Perhaps he could join us for dinner tonight. All of us,” Wyatt states as an afterthought.

“Are you cooking?” Avery tilts her head. Wyatt clenches his fists, his patience well and truly spent.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll cook,” I interject, deciding I should have some input here.

“Deal.” Avery pushes her blankets aside, slipping her bootie slippers onto the wooden patio. Her flannel pajamas are yellow and striped. Keeping the diary close to her chest, she glides past Wyatt to lean into my side, her mouth beside my jaw. “At least I know you won’t poison my food.”

Avery disappears inside the house, and Wyatt takes her spot on the porch swing. His limbs are slack, as if being polite took all of her energy.

“You did a good job,” I smirk, patting Wyatt’s thigh. He takes a swing at me and misses.

“Don’t patronize me.” My laughter is canceled out by a round of screaming and protests from the top floor. I briefly look up, wondering if I would have been better served as a referee up there, and then quickly decide against it. Avery is a big girl, she can handle herself.

That evening, we all sit around the dining table. I made spaghetti and meatballs, while Garrett was on garlic bread duty and Axel laid the table. Wyatt sits at the far end, nursing his wine glass like a lifeline. Avery decided last minute we should dress up, after she manhandled and shaved Huxley in the shower. Given by the way he keeps tugging at the crotch of his pants, either the razor went on a little journey or he’s gained a serious case of blue balls. His hair is still damp, pushed back from his ashy face. But he’s smiling, and that means more to us than Avery will ever realize.

Chapter Fifty One

Lifting my fist, I rap my knuckles on the door. Avery is quick to open it, blurry eyed and face marked from sleep. I lean forward, using my thumb to wipe the drool from the corner of her mouth.

“Good morning, Peach.” From behind my back, I produce a large bouquet of sunflowers. Dax’s favorite, I might add. My failsafe incase Avery decides my charm is somehow an offense to her feminism. Luckily for her, but unluckily for Dax, she smiles and accepts them graciously.

“Why do I feel like there’s a catch?” she murmurs, stepping back into her room. I take my cue to enter, pushing the door shut with my back.

“I’m offended. Can’t a handsome guy give a pretty girl flowers?”

“You’re assuming you are handsome,” Avery chuckles. Wow, arrow to the heart.

“I won’t assume you’re a morning person again either. And to answer your original question - I’m here to take you out on a date.”

“A date,” Avery tilts her head, her hair falling aside and eyes half-lidded in disbelief. I nod enthusiastically. “Outside?”

“Yep. And I’m going to help you get ready.” Avery drops onto her unmade bed, smelling her flowers and not making any move to get me out of her wardrobe. Some of the outfits in here are either new, or what Wyatt picked up when he was packing her bags from Hughes Manor. I’m drawn to a pair of metallic leggings, ombre purple to blue to green. I can’t find a top I like, so I shed mine, a thin navy sweater which will swamp her. Perfect. Avery places her flowers down just as I’m hunting through her underwear drawer, forgetting the reason I was in here in the first place. Standing, she scuffs her feet over to the bathroom door when I gasp and rush forward to stop her.

“Wait,” I grab her wrist, then push the door open with my foot. “I need to help you with that too.” Avery jerks then, struggling and failing to get out of my hold.

“With the toilet?! What the fuck Garrett, get off of me!” There’s a skirmish with the door which I win, locking myself inside. Digging into my back pocket, I pull out a long rectangular box. “Seriously, can you go? I need to pee.” Avery puts her hands on her hips. She’s so cute when she’s mad.

“Exactly. Did you know the HCG levels in your urine are most concentrated in the morning?”

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