Page 4 of Bound By Obsession

“Without your boyfriend climbing through my bedroom window and my fake brother forcing you to read my therapy transcripts, you mean?” It’s Axel’s turn to blush. I hadn’t meant to say it so bluntly. Blinking rapidly, I wonder what other thoughts I’m suppressing for the worst possible moment to say them.

“Wyatt’s an asshole,” he groans after a short pause. My brow raises.

“But…?”

“No but’s. Regardless of what Wyatt has done for me and what I owe him, when it comes to you, he’s always acted like an asshole. There’s no excuse for his actions.” If I thought I couldn’t melt for Axel anymore, he’s just proved me wrong. I was so prepared for him to come to Wyatt’s defense that I’d already started hardening my heart against it. Now, there’s a crack in the armor and Axel is swiftly prying his way inside.

“Yet here we are, looking for him anyway,” I find a smirk, ignoring the rumble of my stomach.

The irony isn’t lost on me. I’ve spent months silently wishing Wyatt would fuck off and leave me alone. Now he’s done exactly that, and I’m chasing him down. Just to deliver the DNA results, that’s all. Nothing else, like the fact I miss his moody face and irritating existence watching on from the sidelines. I definitely haven’t come to depend on him always being there as a fall guy for my anger. My personal punching bag who bites back, who reminds me what’s real amongst the pretty words his friends offer me. They mean well, but I should know better than to become comfortable. Huxley’s gunshot wound is evidence enough.

“Here we are,” Axel reiterates. His thumb brushes against mine. A gentle reassurance which draws our focus to our joined hands. The noise of the bar falls away, the music and excited chatter becoming muffled. I lose myself to Axel’s simple touch, hunting for that same grounding presence. The warmth of his skin radiates through me, a steady pulse anchoring me in the chaos of my mind.

I glance up, meeting his stunning hazel eyes filled with understanding. We’re in our own bubble, separate from the world around us. His lips curl into a soft smile, and I can’t help but return it. In this moment, there’s nothing but us. None of the bullshit, only the hope that we could wade through and find something beautiful waiting at the other end.

“Bad news,” Dax appears and slumps on the stool on my other side. The trance is broken and the volume of the bar slams back into me. Using the tilted angle of my body facing Axel, Dax rests his head on my shoulder, arms wrapping around my middle. We attract a few curious gazes then. “They won't even let me up to knock on the door and speak to him.”

“So what are we going to do? Sit in the foyer and hope he happens to pass by?” Suddenly defeated, I lean into Dax’s weight now. Everyone else back at Waversea will be finishing their classes this week, preparing to head home for the holidays. And then there’s the five of us, stuck in limbo and unsure of where to go. Should we give up on Wyatt and find somewhere to hide away, wait for Fredrick to be caught? His silence has been both comforting and unbearable. Has he grown bored of me, or is he building up to something worse?

Collectively, as if sharing the same thought, the three of us sigh. The waiter hovers on the edge of our three-way entanglement to ask if we’d like anything. Axel places an order of three white wines, the house best. At my questioning glance, he shrugs.

“It’s Wyatt’s card on file, right?”

“Garrett is having a bad effect on you,” I roll my eyes. I don’t bother getting into how we now know Wyatt’s card is, in fact, loaded with the money I should have always had access to. I’m the rightful Hughes’ child, yet I was raised to beg for scraps and live in fear. Fuck, I’ve got so many questions. If only Nixon would respond to my messages.

As our drinks are served, Huxley quietly enters and sits on Axel’s far side. He doesn’t speak, his eyes hooded and tired. I long for the charmingly protective man I knew him to be, and instantly chastise myself for being selfish. Huxley shouldn’t bounce back from what he’s been through just because I wish it. While he’s been healing, all he’s asked for is me. He’s still protective, just in other ways now, and it’s me who’s been pulling away, scared of the trap closing in on all sides. None of it is fair on him. With my mind distracted, I sit and sip, watching the ticking of the clock above the bar.

“Great news!” Garrett barges in like a wrecking ball. I choke on my drink. Axel reaches up to scrape his thumb over thecorner of Garrett’s mouth, removing a smudge of sauce left there. “I found Wyatt!” My heart jolts and we’re all out of our seats, fatigue forgotten in an instant.

“Where is he?” Dax cuts in first, voice laced with concern. Garrett’s grin spreads wider.

“At the club across the road. There’s a group of paparazzi outside. Said they got a tip-off so they’re waiting for him to appear.”

“They told you all of this?” I ask skeptically. Garrett rolls his eyes, his body practically vibrating with the urge to get going.

“Well, not to my face. I was leaning against the wall, eating my burger and eavesdropping. They didn’t even notice me.” I blink up into Garrett’s dark eyes. They’re gleaming with this new information and I reckon if I were to pet him on the head and call him a good boy, his tongue would lull out of his mouth. I reach up slowly, and the moment my fingers touch his floppy brown locks, my fist tightens around them tightly. “Ahh!” Garrett shouts, but allows his head to be yanked down to my height anyway.

“And where are our burgers, Garrett?” I narrow my eyes. Garrett looks around, suddenly realizing he’s returned empty-handed to a group of people who also haven’t eaten for most of the day. Lord knows he hogged all the car snacks to himself.

“Oh…you guys? Um, but…I found Wyatt.” His puppy dog expression is too much. I release him and pat his cheek.

“Well done, Gare Bear.” I concede, giving him the praise he’s waiting for. His tongue does indeed flop out of his mouth. Twisting my head to Axel, I nod resolutely. “Let’s get a room and our bags. I need a shower and some room service.”

“And Wyatt?” Huxley speaks for the first time, watching the exchange from the outside. I smile warmly at him whilst placing a hand on Garrett’s chest.

“We know where he is and we know where he’s staying. Somewhere between the two, Garrett should be able to intercept him.”

“Me?” Garrett whines. “But you said,‘a room’, as in singular. I’ll be missing out on all the fun.” I nod up at him, slowly drumming my fingers on his collar bone.

“And hopefully you’ll remember this night the next time you only think about your own stomach.” Downing my wine, I wrestle my way out of the bodies surrounding me. We’ve attracted the attention of almost every person in the bar now.

Taking Huxley’s hand, we pass through the foyer. A security guard has appeared, eyeing us as if we’re the riffraff he’s been tasked with discarding. I catch Huxley’s small smile. If only they knew who he was beneath his top knot and baggy sweats. A constricted ball in my chest I hadn’t realized was sitting there, unfurls slightly. Huxley and I haven’t spoken as much lately, between his pledge to always tell me the truth, whether I want to hear it or not, and my guilt of putting him in that position. No one else wants to give me bad news. It’s all on his shoulders and he has to face my resentment for it.

Back in the street, the air is a welcome balm over my frayed nerves. I was happy to let the others think my hunger has taken over, not the sudden fact Wyatt is so close. Until now, finding Wyatt was an idea. Something I could play over and over in my mind, creating the fantasy outcomes I prefer. But knowing he’s just across the street in a club, probably dressed in his finest with women hanging on his every word, sends me into overdrive. Would he even hear me out? Or will he shove me away and step over me in the street? One camera flash and the image of me sprawled across the sidewalk and possibly crying would be splashed across the tabloids tomorrow morning. No thank you.

Either way, I don’t get a choice. Two steps down the street, I hear the uproar. A rush of voices and bodies, jerking tolife. Those telltale flashes consume the other side of the street, and amongst them, a repetitive flash of red and blue. Huxley’s hand tightens around mine and in a flurry, Axel is at my back, ushering me across the road. We become lost to a crowd screaming Wyatt’s name. Between bopping heads, I catch sight of his dark hair and my heart sinks.

He looks drawn, ill even. Deep crevices hang beneath his eyes, his cheeks looking hollow and pasty. His hair is an overgrown mess, sticking out in all directions from tugging his hands through it. The open buttons of his shirt reveal hickeys lining his neck and the glimpse of a scratch across his chest. He looks like shit. Like some STD-riddled sleaze who’s crawled out of the gutter in search of his next victim or a hit of something stronger.

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