Bound by Obsession (Shadowed Souls #2)

45. Chapter Forty Five

R eplying to Meg’s vague message about her latest lacrosse match, I sigh and toss my phone into my backpack. I suppose I’ll return to tapping my purple highlighter against the notepad balanced across my knees and staring at the paper in front of me. The white page has started to mock me, only a title staring back. Hidden Demons.

Considering how excited I initially was for Mrs. Patrick’s assignment, I’ve been coming up blank with where to start, the words running through my mind without taking shape. I’ve tried listing a few ideas, jotting down snippets, but nothing sticks. Every time I start to settle into a train of thought, I find myself easily distracted by the basketball court once again.

The gym smells like sweat and effort, mingling with the faint scent of Axel’s cologne beside me. It’s all so distracting, in the best and worst ways. A stack of books from the library sit on the bench between me and Axel, since my study time coincided with the boys’ practice.

Where possible, the six of us have stuck together under the guise of keeping Axel well protected, in case the new ‘ Inclusive Practice for Athletes Programme’ introduced by Dean O’Sullivan isn’t enough to deter the jocks from harassing him again. Most probably call our dynamic unhealthy, as our closeness hasn’t gone unnoticed by those always sticking their noses in our business.

The steady squeak of sneakers on polished wood sounds, punctuated by the sharp thwacks of balls hitting the floor. Coach’s whistle cuts through the air in timed intervals, commanding the rhythm of the entire gym. Amongst the rest of the team and a large group of subs, the Shadowed Souls run back and forth, dribbling their ball with keen control.

Garrett jogs past, his forehead glistening with sweat under the harsh lights. He’s quick to pull his hoodie off and wipe his head with it. I doubt he’s noticed how damp the material of his T-shirt is, sticking to the ridges of his abdomen. Making a point of not looking too closely, I prefer to watch as he tosses the hoodie onto Axel’s lap, the two exchanging a brief, affectionate look. Coach’s whistle pierces the air again, louder this time, snapping Garrett back to attention. He rushes to rejoin the others, his broad shoulders rippling as he takes off toward the far end of the court.

“I thought you said you’d be able to focus here,” Axel muses, not even looking my way. My chin jerks back from its resting place on my fist and I straighten to match his posture.

“I can. I was just thinking of an impactful first sentence,” I purse my lips. Axel rolls his hazel eyes, a smile playing about his lips. He’s practiced in hiding his pain, although it’s evident in the stiffness of his spine and shoulders if you know where to look. His ribs have much improved in the last two weeks, allowing him to venture out in small doses. We all insisted he should stay in bed for longer but Axel explained there is only so long anyone can lie in bed before the nightmares they’re running from start to bleed into every waking moment. Since then, we take him everywhere we’re able without doing him any additional damage.

“Where was I?” I mutter to myself, dragging my gaze back to the two words double underlined at the top of the page. Surely it shouldn’t be this difficult. I have enough hidden demons to write an entire book, yet I can’t seem to decide which one I’d like to delve into. In some respects, I could use this exercise to face some home truths I haven’t quite come to terms with. On the other hand, there are things I don’t need preserved on paper.

Maybe I’m being too literal. I could just as easily write about the demons tearing up the court, putting the Subs to shame. There is definitely something hellish about the way they’re distracting from what I should be doing. I chuckle to myself, wondering if I could shock the socks off of Mrs. Patrick when Huxley nears, giving me a flirtatious wink. Thanks to his constant workouts with Garrett, Huxley is in his element today, keeping pace with Dax and Wyatt like it’s second nature. His footwork is quick, cutting across the court with a burst of speed that leaves his defender stumbling.

In the same jersey and shorts as everyone else, the sheer definition of his muscle gives Hux that blond Adonis vibe I love, having snapped straight back into shape. I want nothing more than for him to stride his sweaty body over here and dominate me on the bench for all to witness. I bite my bottom lip, worried I might accidentally drool at the thought. And the best part is that he’s smiling.

Dax is right there with him, his lanky form moving with a fluid grace that perfectly matches his gentle and graceful persona. Between him and Garrett, they make a mockery of those who usually occupy this bench during real games. They pass the ball with sharp, intentional movements, their silent communication honed over hours of practice.

And then, despite myself, my gaze wanders. Even before Wyatt is passed the ball, he’s poised and ready, his green eyes entirely focused on the play taking place before him. There’s a swagger in his steps, a confidence that draws my attention. I hate to buy into Wyatt’s God-complex, but it’s obvious that on this court, he is King. The rest of his team set him up to take the victory, and all the gloating that goes along with it.

Receiving the ball, he jolts into action, dribbling only three times before he leaps to make a shot. His muscles tense, his back arches, and the ball leaves his hand in a perfect arc before swishing through the net. The sound is soft but somehow deafening in its perfection. I blink, suddenly aware that I’ve been watching for too long again. My highlighter hangs limp between my fingers.

“How’s that impactful first sentence coming?” Axel grins. I officially give up, putting my notepad aside and throwing my face into my hands. I’m overthinking it. Axel chuckles, reaching over to gently peel my hands away. “It’s just an assignment, Swan. Stop beating yourself up over it.” I know he’s right, but I can’t explain why I feel the need to throw myself into this. To embrace student life for what I thought it would be and hold on tight with both hands. Maybe it’s an attempt at normality.

“I’ll be fine when I decide what to write about. Can you just pick a topic for me?” I pout, gesturing to the pile of books. Titles such as ‘ Psychological Shadows ’ and ‘ Literary Stereotypes ’ are peeking out from underneath Garrett’s now-folded hoodie. “Whatever demon of mine you choose, I will just run with that.”

Axel looks at the pile thoughtfully, then gestures towards my backpack. I pass it to him, saving the effort of shifting his ribs too much. Digging around inside, Axel pulls out a piece of folded, mostly crumpled, paper and offers it to me with a knowing look. My cheeks instantly set on fire.

“You carry this letter around with you everywhere, clinging to the words that seem to bring you a sense of comfort.” Axel places it on my lap when my hands don’t obey. How long has he known? Opening my mouth to explain, he quickly holds up a hand to stop me, wincing at the sudden movement. “There’s no judgment here, Swan. All I’m saying is, if we’re talking about hidden demons, maybe you should start with what you’ve been hiding at the bottom of your bag.”

I frown at Mr. XO’s latest letter, having read it so much I know the contents by heart. The connection I’ve imagined into existence with the author is ridiculous, borderline psychotic. And Axel has been fully aware.

“Do the others know?” I ask beneath the sound of grunted exercise and the Coach’s hollering. Axel leaves his arm balanced on the book stack so I can toy with his fingers.

“Only Garrett, he was searching for a snack whilst watching your ballet practice the other day and came across it.” I puff out my cheeks, still blushing incredulously. If Garrett knows I’ve been hiding the letter and hasn’t blabbed to anyone, it’s because he’s preparing to use it as leverage against me. That could mean anything from a home cooked meal to anal whilst bent over the porch railing. He’s utterly unpredictable and completely desire driven like that.

“How am I supposed to use this for my assignment without the world finding out I’m utterly insane?” I gently lift Axel’s hand to cradle the side of my head. His need for comfort has reflected directly onto me. His thumb strokes my hair, not once complaining if I’m causing him any discomfort.

“Forget the assignment. Do it for yourself. Write him back.” I almost jolt right out of my seat.

“What?!”

“If you had the chance to meet him, what would you want to say? What do you think he deserves to know?” Axel’s hazel eyes hold my gaze, undeterred and serious. He really isn’t judging me for this at all. The corner of his mouth quirks up and all other worries fade away. “You said you’d run with whatever I choose.”

“Fine.” I agree, shoving down the tremor of excitement that sparks to life within me. “But I don’t want anyone to know, not even Garrett.” Axel nods in understanding. It’s not that I think the others would judge me either, but this part of my life is mine. It’s private, not something I want to share. I’ve held onto Mr. XO’s words like a dirty secret, but I’ve never once entertained the idea of penning a letter back.

The thud of bodies colliding reverberates in my chest as Huxley and Dax’s laughter bounces off the walls of the gym. The sharp whistle signals the end of practice, but I’m already in motion, packing up my belongings and lifting the stack of books on the bench beside me. My heart races with the need to get out of here before anyone starts asking questions.

“What’s the rush, Peach? Practice just finished.” Garrett is suddenly next to me, wiping his sweaty hair with his hoodie, his dark eyes scanning me with curiosity.

“Oh,” I blink rapidly, scrambling for an excuse, the first lie that pops into my head. “I totally forgot the library is closing early today. There’s an…annual inventory count happening tonight, and I need to get these books back or their numbers will be wrong.” The words come out in a rush, and I flash him a quick, nervous smile. Garrett raises an eyebrow, but before I can slip away, Dax steps in front of me, his tall frame blocking my exit.

“I don’t know of any inventory count,” he says, narrowing his eyes, clearly not buying my excuse. Behind him, Huxley scratches his scruffy jaw, watching me like I’m about to bolt.

“Really seems like something they’d have done in the holidays,” Huxley adds, his tone casual but pointed. I’m surrounded now, their attention heavy on me. The weight of the books in my arms is starting to strain my muscles, and my shoulders tremble under the pressure. Thankfully, Axel’s voice breaks the tension.

“No, she’s right,” he interjects, pushing himself up from the bench. “It was on the online bulletin board. All books need returning before four. I’ll walk her down.” He moves to stand, but as soon as he shifts his weight, a sharp gasp escapes him, and he stumbles. Garrett catches him instantly, his arm wrapping protectively around Axel’s waist.

“You aren’t going anywhere but home to bed,” Garrett declares, leaving no room for argument. He holds Axel close, the two of them slowly hobbling toward the locker room, Axel leaning on Garrett’s body.

I manage a small, awkward shrug, taking advantage of the moment to edge around Dax and Huxley. “Um, so…I’m just going to run these back. I’ll meet you guys at the house?” I glance between them, hoping they’ll let it go. But the tension is palpable, a nervous glance exchanged between the two. I get it. No one wants me walking alone, but at some point, I have to reclaim my independence.

“I won’t be long. Don’t forget your girl used to have a personal self-defense trainer,” I say, trying to inject some humor into the situation. Still, the books in my arms are getting heavier, and I’m starting to shake from the effort of holding them.

Dax and Huxley hesitate, their heads lowering as they share another look. They’re on the verge of relenting when Wyatt suddenly cuts through the group, his growl catching me off guard.

“I’ll walk you down,” Wyatt says, his voice low and hard. I hadn’t realized he’d been listening, but his sneakers are already changed, and his bag is slung over his shoulder. Without waiting for my response, he takes the stack of books from my arms with ease.

“Wait, no—” I start to protest, but Wyatt’s already heading toward the door, his back to me.

“Come on. I don’t have time to waste,” he calls over his shoulder, leaving me no choice but to follow.

As we step out of the gym and onto the long road leading toward the courtyard, the cold air hits my face, biting through the thin layers of my T-shirt and sweater. I trail behind, glaring at the back of Wyatt’s head, wishing for a moment of peace. What’s a girl got to do to be left alone around here? The rest of the Shadowed Souls might be obsessed with keeping me safe, but Wyatt? I didn’t think he cared. Yet here he is, acting like he’s doing me some grand favor. He doesn’t speak, nor does he look back, but I make a point of flipping him off, knowing he won’t see.

We walk in silence, the rhythmic crunch of our shoes against the frosty path filling the quiet. At the end of the road, just before we reach the courtyard, Wyatt suddenly stops short. I barely stop myself from crashing into his back, stumbling to keep my balance. He turns, his expression unreadable, and deposits the books back into my arms.

“You’ve got an hour max before the guys come looking,” he says, his voice dropping lower, more serious. “Whatever shady shit you’re up to, spend your time wisely.” I blink at him, surprised.

“And where are you going?” I raise a brow, quickly getting over the shock of his gesture. I’m not foolish enough to think Wyatt lied just to cover my back, but also to protect himself. We’re each other’s alibi’s here.

“I have places to be.” He adjusts his bag on his shoulder, his eyes flicking away from mine. “You keep my secret, and I’ll keep yours.” A small scoff works its way out of my lips, my blonde ponytail flicking to the side as I readjust the weight in my arms.

“So we’re keeping secrets now?” I tilt my head, watching him closely. “Careful, Wyatt. I might even start to think you don’t totally hate me anymore.” It’s a test and he knows it. He doesn’t respond right away, his jaw clenched tight.

“Don’t push your luck,” he finally says, his voice colder than the air around us. But I see the flicker of something else in his eyes, something unguarded. Now I really am curious about where he’s been spending his time.

Before I can press further, Wyatt turns and walks away, disappearing down the path without another word. I stand there, clutching the books to my chest, watching him leave, a swirl of emotions tightening in my stomach. I could follow him, see what he’s up to. But he’s right - I have an hour tops before Huxley or Dax casually pass by the library to find me. I need time to mull over Axel’s request without anyone looking over my shoulder.

Dashing off towards the library, I feel lighter than I have in weeks. I’m taking back control. I’m finally facing my demons.