Page 53 of Unexpected Love

“Are you okay to drive?” I ask a little hesitantly. I don’t want her to go back to wherever she was mentally when she called me, but her safety is far more important than that at the moment.

“I don’t have a choice. I can’t stay here.” Silence takes over for a moment. “I’ll be smart. If I get tired, I’ll find somewhere safe to stop for a little bit before I keep going.”

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“Just for a little bit longer. Tell me more about your siblings.”

And I do. I end up talking to her for another hour. I tell her about every facet I can think of, all the little details. How I felt when each of them came home, how protective I feel, how much I hated being in the army because it took me away from them, and how I loved it because it felt like my purpose.

I keep talking to her until she’s packed up her car and is driving away from Harborview.

“Call me if you need to. It doesn’t matter what time it is.”

“I will,” she promises.

“And let me know when you get home?”

“Of course.”

“Be safe.” I know I’m just dragging this out, but for some reason, I’m not ready to hang up—even though we’ve been on the phone for almost two hours.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. “I don’t know why, but you were the first person who came to mind.”

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s what—” I cut myself off, not sure how to label us. Friends doesn’t feel right when I’m realizingfriendsis the last thing I want to be with Ava Day.Loversdoesn’t feel right when I’m realizing I want more than that. Somewhere along the way, this thing with Ava has startedto feel like a real relationship, and I’m starting to realize I don’t hate it. “Just be safe, and call me if you need me.”

“I will.”

We hang up, and I sit there for another minute before slowly getting up from the floor. Sitting on the floor was probably the worst idea. I’ll be feeling it in my back for days, but I wouldn’t take it back for anything.

When I make it downstairs, I find my parents cuddled up on the couch watchingIt’s a Wonderful Life. At the sound of my steps, Mom reaches for the remote, pausing the movie while Dad looks over his shoulder, concern etched on his face.

“Is everything okay? Your mother and I were worried.”

“Yeah.” I stay where I am for a minute, thinking about how I want to play this. I’m not known for serious conversations. I play things off like they don’t affect me. Though, I don’t know how true that’s been lately. I’ve had more serious conversations in the last month than usual.

I shuffle over to the armchair, slowly lowering myself to the seat. I don’t know why I’m nervous to have this conversation, but I can’t expect people to be open with me if I don’t do the same in return.

“Ava was supposed to be at her parents' Christmas Eve party this evening, but she texted, and I was worried. I went upstairs, only expecting to talk to her for a few minutes.”

I’m speaking more to the floor than to my parents, but I still hear the concern in my dad’s voice when he answers. “Is she all right?”

“I don’t know,” I worry. “She said she was fine physically but didn’t want to talk about what happened.”

“You talked for nearly two hours,” Mom points out.

“She wanted someone to talk to.” I shrug.

I see the two of them share a look, communicating something, but I don’t know what it is.

“Are you okay?” Dad asks, turning back to me.

“I don’t know,” I repeat. “I’m worried, but there’s nothing I can do from here or without knowing what happened. She was in the car and on her way home when we got off the phone.”

“Should she be driving?”

“Probably not, but what else is she supposed to do?” I ask. “She said she couldn’t stay there, and if that was going to cause her more stress…” I let my words trail off. I hate the situation, but the options are limited.

“You’re right,” Mom says, placing a hand on Dad’s forearm.

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