Bound by Obsession (Shadowed Souls #2)

25. Chapter Twenty Five

F ootsteps pound against the wraparound porch, a heavy weight collides with me from behind and sending me flying into Dax. Initially thinking I’ve been attacked; I elbow and squirm until I recognize Garrett’s fingers pushing in my hair and forcing my hood down. Dax pulls us both into a 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 Axel approaching to clasp my hand.

“Welcome back, I hope you’re staying?” His crisp hazel eyes watch me closely as I slap on the relaxed smile I’ve been practicing the whole way here from the passenger seat of Nixon’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 mahogany dining table. Blond waves catch my attention, the saddest brown eyes I’ve ever seen glancing across the room but he makes no move to greet me. Walking through 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 vigor.

“Why didn’t you return any of my calls?” His voice is muffled against my skin, moisture pooling in my collar-bone from the few tears which have escaped him. I swallow down my guilt, forcing myself to remember the real reason I came here. For answers. For revenge. “I’ve really needed you,” he whispers, clearly not wanting the others to hear. Fuck , I didn’t expect my resolve to crumble so easily.

“I know, I’m sorry man. I’m here now.” I pat him on the back, my heart breaking as I say the words that I know aren’t true. Needing to distance myself, I step back and my eyes land on my father standing uselessly in the living area. He came in the sensible way, through the front door. No longer trapped in his close proximity and pointedly ignoring him, I glance over his hair which has more gray in the temples than he’s ever permitted before, disappointment etched into his pale blue eyes. Stubble lines his tense jaw which is at odds with his overly smart attire.

“We need to talk. All of us.” There’s no fondness in his tone until he approaches the staircase and looks up longingly. “I’ll get the girls.” I clench my fists until he’s disappeared from sight. Hatred has kept me more company than Nixon has, the man I used to crave praise from barely uttering two words to me during the entire private jet and car ride. It was preferred really. I don’t think I would have been able to make small talk without screaming at the top of my lungs, demanding answers.

Not in any rush to start this non-family reunion, I take in my surroundings. A charcoal gray sofa large enough to seat five, faces a lit fireplace with two matching armchairs parallel. A dark coffee table divides the room with a similarly colored cabinet by the window, and absolutely nothing else. No TV or games consoles, no entertainment in the slightest. I can already feel the boredom settling into my veins already.

Four pairs of eyes follow me as I wander around the room and take the armchair that’s facing Huxley. He’s rigid, his open hands placed on his jean-clad thighs. Thighs which look thinner, much like the bagginess of his T-shirt hiding a lack of muscle within. Dark circles frame his eyes and his hair is limp, in need of some deep conditioning. The Huxley I left behind would have never let himself get in such a state. What have they been doing to him?

Twisting his head to look at me expectantly, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “You look like shit.” Huxley doesn’t react, nodding with slow acceptance. Axel is quick to sit at his side and jump to his defense.

“Speak for yourself,” Axel narrows his eyes at me.

I look down at my black hoodie, dark jeans and Timberlands. I look exactly the same as I always do. “Not your clothes,” Axel clarifies. “You. Your eyes are bloodshot to shit. Are you on drugs?” Scoffing and refusing to answer such a stupid question, I hold out my empty hand towards Dax and Garrett lingering in the kitchen.

“Is someone going to get me a whiskey or do I need to do it myself?”

“You won’t find whiskey here, Riot. You know it triggers Avery.”

“Of course. Silly me,” I roll my eyes. The expressions, which so recently were overjoyed to see me, harden. I knew it wouldn’t take long. Footsteps sound on the stairs, beating in time with my dead heart. This is the part I’ve been truly dreading. Seeing her again. But it’s not Avery who’s trailing Nixon first. It’s Meg.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” I scowl. No one answers. Avery has a whole support system under one roof while I’ve been cast aside, floundering on my own. I just buried a parent I didn’t get the chance to know, while she’s been surrounded by the men who are supposed to be mine. Ignoring me, Nixon steps aside for Meg to pass, closely followed by Avery. Fluffy white socks, long legs in leggings and an oversized orange hoodie swamping her upper half. I glare with malicious intent.

Is that my hoodie?

Ordering us to all congregate at the dining table, Nixon taps his foot and checks his watch for added effect as I slowly make my way over last. I’m numb to his glower, no longer a pup on his leash. I’m my own kind of pit bull now. I stride purposefully towards the furthest chair, ready to get this over with as quick as possible. Ready to hear Nixon’s lies.

Avery and Meg huddle together at the top end of the table, Garrett and Axel doing the same opposite them. Dax and Huxley are on each of their sides, leaving a clear gap between them and me. Pulling his own chair back, Nixon lowers and rests an ankle 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 few months.

“There’s so much I need to tell you all but I’m afraid I can’t stay long. An extremely dangerous man is searching for Avery so I need to keep moving, to keep throwing him off her trail.”

“It sounds like your ghosts are catching up with you, Nixon.” My voice echoes against the walls, my use of his real name not going unnoticed by those present. They have no idea what I’ve discovered, but they will. I won’t let Nixon put his spin on what I now know.

“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. “Cathy 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-” My laughter is a callous slap in his face, jarring him from the script he’s probably been rehearsing during our entire car ride.

“Why don’t we try that again?”

“Wyatt, what’s gotten into you?” Dax raises a brow. He might as well be addressing a stranger, and I suppose that’s what I am to all of them now. But they need to know this.

“Who, me? Oh nothing. I just thought this meeting was supposed to be worth the journey. At this rate, I might as well not have bothered coming.” Picking at my nails, I hide the true anxiety creeping through me. I could have stayed with Rachel, focusing on rebuilding a life where I’m not used as a pawn.

“Well since you’re so knowledgeable, why don’t you take the lead, Son?” Nixon challenges me. I see what he’s doing, provoking me into spilling all I know so he can lie his way out. I’m not fooled, but I’m not in the mood to play coy either. Jetlag is a bitch at the best of times.

“Fine. You didn’t adopt me, you stole me. My real father was your best friend and business partner. You blackmailed him into giving me up, forcing him to choose between his newborn son or his wife.”

“Is that true?” Avery gasps, her head whipping back to Nixon. I’m confused by the rigidness of her spine, acting as if she actually gives a shit about me. No one gives a shit about me anymore, except Rachel.

Nixon unhooks his ankle and leans back to steeple his fingers. This is the disapproving man I remember growing up with, the one who looks at my grazed knees as if it offended him that I bled. Who only cared to address me in public. Nixon hasn’t been that man since Avery was brought back to the manor, which all makes perfect sense now.

“Ray Perelli was a crook. He made the wrong deals with the wrong kind of people. I did you a favor removing you from him and that scatterbrain wife of his. I don’t know what Cathy got out of being friends with such a ditsy woman.”

“Don’t you dare speak of Rachel that way! You have no idea how she’s suffered because of your mistakes!” I fly into a rage, standing and kicking my chair back against the wall. Huxley is before me in the next second, those dormant instincts flaring back to life.

“Hey man, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” Hux mutters into my ear, his large hands braced on my shoulders. It’s only his weakened state that holds me back from shoving against him, searching for a way to vent my frustration. “He’s not worth it.” I catch Hux’s serious stare. Has he been able to see Nixon’s true colors too? Grabbing my seat, I swivel it on one leg and plant myself on it backwards now. The backrest acts as a barrier.

“The Perelli’s are good people,” I grit through my clenched teeth. “It wasn’t just them you robbed of a son, but me of a loving family.” Nixon sighs, a dramatic fall of this chest which makes me tighten my fists by my sides. One of these days, I’m going to ensure Nixon feels the anguish I’ve been forced to live with. In my peripheral vision, a shadowy figure nods.

“We loved you Wyatt. Even when you made it impossible to.”

“You used me.” I spit back. The tension between us hardens, so much to be said but it’s all redundant. I will never be able to understand and I will never forgive him.

“Sorry, ‘scuse me,” Garrett raises his hand like a school child. “Can we just hit the rewind button for a second? Before you started robbing cribs, if you please.” A flutter of warmth hits me unexpectedly as Garrett shoots me a sly wink. Nixon isn’t amused but when he glances upon his precious, innocent Avery, his expression softens.

“Cathy was having an affair,” he begins, oblivious to the fact we already know this. Huxley showed me the diary, it’s detailed in undisputable black and white. “And she fell pregnant with twins. I knew they couldn’t be mine because I have…fertility issues,” he clears his throat. I snort, reveling in his embarrassment.

“Maybe it was the world’s way of telling you nothing good would come of being a father.” My response is ignored, his entire focus on the two girls huddled together at his end of the table.

Nixon continues to speak, detailing how he and Cathy were looking into adoption when she broke the news. How she begged him to stay with her, that she’d break it off with the other man. Freddie Walters, Nixon called him. There are many things to be said about Cathy, but nothing tops her need to maintain her public appearance. I’ve heard the rest of the story from Ray, how Freddie became obsessive, impulsive. How he threatened to take the girls if Cathy wouldn’t be with him.

The longer Nixon speaks, the quieter his voice becomes in my ears. A white noise takes over as I follow his eyeline to the girls and back. The shadow lingering around me makes the connection at the same time I do, dragging itself closer to the pair.

Two sets of blue eyes look ahead, varying in shade beneath perfectly arched eyebrows. Side on together, their profiles are identical, button noses smeared with light freckles above full lips that they are both biting subconsciously. Wearing matching hoodies and leggings, only the colors differing like the long hair upon their oval shaped heads, the truth of their genetics is so clear I can’t believe I’ve never seen it before. My stomach plummets.

“-Cathy had trouble breastfeeding, she could only handle one baby at a time. She was with a night nurse when Walters made his move. He only found Avery asleep in the crib and stole her from us that night. We didn’t know what to do, so the best idea we could come up with was to hide our other daughter with a woman we’d met at the infertility clinic.”

Nixon briefly closes his eyes, the picture of guilt and sorrow. What a fantastic act. “It took us ten years and hundreds of private investigators to track down Walters. He may be insane, but he knows how to keep a low profile. As soon as we found out his location, we drove sixteen hours to bring you home,” Nixon’s voice cracks, his hand outstretched to rest on Avery’s. “You were right there, so frail and skinny, darting out in the road. We almost hit you with our car.”

I return to the present, my heart too tight to beat properly. I can’t listen to these twisted versions of the truth that make Nixon sound so innocent. He leaves out the part where neither he nor Cathy couldn’t risk their precious reputations, so they decided to trick her deranged lover by sending their best friends to prison on bogus fraud charges and claim the right to their baby. I bite the inside of my cheeks at the thought of Ray and Rachel’s pain, their devastation at losing me. And what do any of us even have to show for it now?

Dax has inched closer to Avery, her hand now hanging low in his. Her other arm is wrapped around her best friend, clinging onto her for support.

“Okay,” Avery nods, absorbing every word. “So who is she - my twin? Is she in danger too?” My head pulls forward on its own accord, my ears pricked. I want to hear him say it. Keeping his head low, avoiding all eye contact, Nixon’s answer travels across the table on a low breath.

“It’s Meg,” Nixon confirms. I knew it was coming, but I still feel like a sledgehammer has barreled through my chest. She’s been right here, under our noses the entire time. The brunette herself looks like she’s about to vomit. I almost pity her, having been a bystander to Avery’s pain to now being thrust into the center of it. It’s shit finding out your mom isn’t really your mom and nothing you believed is true.

Avery’s face has tilted, her expression lost to me by a mass of blonde hair. “I- I don’t understand.”

“It was always our intention to leave you girls and let you grow up to lead happy, comfortable lives. But after we found you in that state, Cathy thought it would be helpful to introduce you to Meg. So we hired Keren to be your therapist and encouraged Meg to stay over every weekend.”

I notice how Nixon is yet to speak to Meg directly, speaking over her as if she isn’t even here. As much as the notion is intriguing, a wave of fresh anger washes over me. How dare he ignore her now, his full attention still centered on Avery. The daughter he loves above all others, the only one he truly wanted.

“Address her,” I growl, my brows pinched. Nixon flashes me a warning glance that has no effect. “Meg is sitting right there. The least you can do is talk to her.” Nixon’s mouth twitches in frustration, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. Instead, he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, the tension thickening in the air. Meg sits motionless, her hands clasped around Avery’s arm. Her face is ashen, her eyes wide with disbelief. She’s absorbing everything, but she’s clearly drowning under the weight of it all.

“Meg,” Nixon finally mutters, his voice lower, as if forcing out her name burns his throat. “We did what we thought was best for both of you.” He speaks slowly, deliberately, as if every word might shatter the delicate balance of truth now teetering between them.

Meg doesn’t blink, her gaze locked somewhere distant. Her lips tremble, but she doesn’t speak. I can see the fear and confusion mixing with her anger, swirling in her expression like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. I can’t blame her—finding out everything you knew about yourself was a lie, all in one conversation? It’s enough to break anyone.

Avery is struggling too. Her hand tightens around Dax’s, her knuckles white. She glances at her sister, really seeing her for the first time in a new light.

“This whole time…” Avery whispers, the words barely audible. She looks back at Nixon. “How long would you have let these lies continue if your hand wasn’t being forced? Forever?”

Nixon lowers his head. “It wasn’t meant to be like this.”

Meg finally finds her voice, though it’s ragged and thin. “You use people,” she reiterates my words from earlier. I suffer with her then, my pulse beating in my ears. Someone finally understands my pain. Meg turns to Nixon, her voice shaky. “Everyone at this table aside from Avery is expendable to you.”

Nixon shifts uncomfortably again, but he doesn’t deny it. The silence is his confession. The room becomes suffocating. Nixon looks ready to speak, but I see the indecision on his face, unsure how to move forward. Meg is just another problem he can fix with a few carefully chosen words.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, the words brittle in the heavy air. “But the damage is done. What matters now is Avery’s safety.” I don’t know why I expected anything different from the same old familiar tune. Nixon has shut himself off from anything aside from his tunnel visioned goal. His words wouldn’t have fixed anything anyway. The truth has already torn through our lives, and no amount of apologies can piece it back together. “Cathy made these choices on all of our behalf. I’m just following through with her wishes. I’m not to blame.”

“What a cop-out.” Axel scoffs, excusing himself from the table. He’s had his fair share of parents playing puppeteer. He doesn’t need to sit through it again. Garrett gives Nixon his best glare face before following his lover out onto the back porch. I should leave too. Make a scene of storming out and smashing a few things, but the numb sensation has taken up residence in my body once again. Ray’s shadow clings to me, my hands starting to tremble.

Pushing up from the table, Nixon rests his hands on the mahogany surface. “I will be leaving shortly. Walters seems to be on my trail wherever I go. I can’t risk him finding me here.”

“What’s the plan then?” I raise my hands into the air. “Are we supposed to wait here for you to return or shall I send a carrier pigeon when another one of my friends has been injured?”

“I don’t have a next step yet. I’m living day to day as it is.” I see it then, the weariness in Nixon’s eyes, the weight in his stance. He’s exhausted, and I can’t bring myself to give two shits. “There’s no signal at the safehouse but the closest town is forty miles away. Drive down every few days to check your emails. I’ll update you when I have any information.”

Well, that’s that then. I’m stranded with two women who hate me and a gang that doesn’t know me anymore. Huxley is sitting beside me but he might as well be miles away, watching the pair across the table. Avery and Meg are clinging to one another, and Dax is hovering on the edge, ready to swoop in and be Avery’s prince charming. There’s just one burning question I can’t leave unanswered.

“Why did you even bring me here?” I ask, hating that the way the words sound leaving my mouth. They taste bitter like ash. Nixon raises his gaze, a harshness there which reminds me of the piece of paper burning a hole in my pocket.

“Wyatt, more than anyone, you know you’re the only one who can truly protect Avery. No matter what’s happened before now, you’re still her best chance.”

“Gee, thanks a bunch,” Huxley mutters. Watching Nixon leave, I scowl at his back with all of the anger I’ve been suppressing. The weight of his words lingers, but it feels hollow, just another burden dumped on us without a plan. I can feel Huxley’s frustration radiating off him, his arms crossed tightly against his chest like a shield. The tremors in my hands increases, finally pushing me to rise from my seat and leave the kitchen.

Grabbing my bag, I hunt for the first bathroom I find, slamming the door closed with my back. The shadow follows me everywhere I go, a comforting presence in my blind spot. Tipping my bag upside down, the contents spill out but it’s only the small plastic tub Rachel gave to me before I left that I’m interested in. Thirty pink circular pills rattle inside. She calls them vitamins but I’ve come to realize they’re much more potent.

Removing two, I swallow them dry and sink into the floor, my back pressed against the wood. Instantly, I feel the world slip away and only the pieces of myself I choose to cling onto remain. My anger at Nixon, my sympathy for Meg, my grief for Ray, all float away on a cloud of relief. I inhale as if my lungs have never expanded so much, the lightness of my limbs bringing an easy smile to my lips. Finally , I can let go and remember what’s important. I’m Wyatt Perelli, and I’m such a good boy.