Page 51 of Unexpected Love

I know she had her family’s Christmas Eve party this evening—something she was secretly hopeful would turn out better than she thought. But this text makes me think she was right to prepare for the worst with her parents. I still haven’t gotten the full story from her, but I’m starting to realize that she’ll tell me when she’s ready.

I glance at the time and notice it’s only eight. The party should still be going strong right now, and unless she was able to sneak her phone down to the party with her—she’s not there. My concern rises at that thought, but I give her an answer anyway.

My parents are back together.

I look up from my spot in the family room to my parents in the kitchen, where they work together to finish loading the dishwasher. They’re laughing, their love for each other shining through their eyes.

Since I’ll be working tomorrow, we made plans to have dinner this evening, just the three of us. I thought about bailing on them as I still wasn’t over being left in the dark about their relationship, but I realized it was their decision how they handled it. And honestly—with their track record—I can’t blame them for wanting to keep it a secret while they figured out if it would last.

I wanted to stay angry with them, but watching them this evening? I think they might actually make it this time.

I don’t think either of them stopped loving each other, but they got married and had a child young—before they really knew who they were as individuals. I think the time apart helped them realize who they are as people first. You have to know who you are before you can merge your life with someone else.

Ava

I’m going to assume if that was your response to “tell me something good” that you’re happy about it.

I don’t know how I feel about it, but they’re happy, so I’m trying to be.

Shouldn’t you be at a party right now?

The three little dots bounce for a solid minute before her response comes through.

Ava

I don’t know.

I sit straighter in my seat, my gut telling me it’s something more than just her parents. I contemplate texting her back but go with my instinct to call her.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell my parents as I stand from the couch and move to the stairs, taking them two at a time and booking it to my old bedroom.

Once I’m behind the closed door, I hit her contact, pacing the room while I wait for her to answer.

“You weren’t supposed to call me.” Her voice is quiet when she answers, almost inaudible.

“What happened?” I’m instantly on edge, hating that she’s so far away and clearly upset.

“It’s nothing.” I hear the tears in her voice, even when she tries to hide them with a cough.

“Rebel. We haven’t lied to each other yet. Let’s not start now.” I collapse to the foot of the bed, my body stiff as if waiting for impact. “Your honesty and ability to ask for what you want is one of the things I like most about you.”

“You’ll tell me to call the police,” she whispers.

My body practically folds in half. My elbows rest on my knees, and my head hangs low. “I am the police.” I keep my voice light but feel the fear coursing through me. There are very few good reasons a person needs the police.

“You can’t help me all the way in Maryland.”

“Rebel.” It’s a desperate plea. For what, I’m not entirely sure.

She’s right, of course. Legally there’s nothing I can do for her while I’m in Maryland and she’s in Massachusetts, but I definitely can’t help if I don’t know what happened.

“Gage, please don’t ask me.” She takes a deep breath. “You’re right. We’ve never lied to each other, and I don’t want to start now, but I can’t—” She hiccups, her words cutting off. I hear the panic rising in her voice, and I can’t stand the thought of her being there alone.

“Just tell me you’re okay,” I beg.

It takes her a minute and a few deep breaths, but when she speaks, her voice sounds a little steadier. “Physically, I’m fine.”

More than anything, I want to be by her side, making sure whoever hurt her can’t do it again, but for some reason, she picked me as the person to talk to. I fight like hell and ignore the urge to push for more information.

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