Page 65 of The Sharpest Edges

“Don’t worry buddy, got you your own shipping box. In ya go.” He nudges Panda into a carrier instead of a box filled with kitchen dishes.

She’d been worried at first that the landlord wouldn’t allow pets, but Dean waved her off, saying that was the first requirement he looked for in potential houses. He was thinking about them the entire time, even before he ever signed a lease or found the right place.

Getting used to someone putting her first is a challenge, and he does so consistently. She’s heard stories of men who loved their women fiercely and without apology, but those had always sounded like fables to her, something that couldn’t be real life. Not when she’d seen the worst relationships have to offer before ever seeing the best.

She can’t deny the truth of it now, not when the proof is standing right in front of her.

When she moves to grab a box, he stops her with a matter-of-fact tone.

“Nah, leave it. Truck is too full anyway. We’ll take the cat over and then come back tonight for the last of it?”

She nods, abandoning her objective and following him out the door toward the waiting truck packed full of boxes and bags and small pieces of furniture that she thinks might fit in this new space.

Dean didn’t have much himself when he first moved in. A sofa and a dining table. A new bed and some soft sheets she’s tested out more than once and really, she doesn’t either. She prefers to leave the bigger items behind and let someone else come pick them up and cart them away, taking their memories with them.

“When do you wanna bring this over? Can do it tomorrow maybe?” He gestures to the car in her driveway. The one she’s been tending to for years, tweaking and repairing and crying tears into the upholstery on particularly bad nights.

She reaches out to stroke the shiny metal, curving over the fender and off the edge, her eyes shining. “I’m not taking it. I can’t start over if I do. I’m putting it up for sale.”

He pauses, putting the carrier in the grass and taking a few steps into her space. “Are you sure?”

Is she sure? Part of her isn’t. She wants to say no, never mind, just kidding. Let’s drive it over right now and forget this moment ever happened. But the rest of her knows that her attachment to this thing is unhealthy at best and she can’t start a new life if she takes along a giant physical reminder of past pain.

“I’m not, but I have to be. I used to think that getting rid of it meant letting go of the last thing I had left of her, which is weird. I know it is.” She pauses, taking a deep breath and trying like hell to keep it together. Knowing something is right doesn’t automatically make it easy. “I don’t feel that way anymore. It can’t come with us. It just can’t. It reminds me of him as much as it does of her and I need to leave him here.”

Dean pulls her to his chest and wraps strong arms around her back, hugging her in front of the thing that’s caused her so much pain over the years and acted as a security blanket at the same time.

“Can do it for you if you want. I’ll take it to the shop and sell it there. You won’t have to see it past tonight.”

She nods into his shirt, a breath of relief escaping her throat at the knowledge that she won’t have to go through the steps of listing it for sale, meeting potential buyers, and watching it drive off.

Her resolve only goes so far, and it’s tenuous at best. She’ll take all the help she can get and let him carry part of the burden for her if he’s willing.

“Thank you,” she whispers, pulling back and wiping a stray tear off her cheek, refusing to sob on her front lawn. Not this time. This is a good day and she won’t let anything taint it.

There’s another thought that enters her mind then, something fleeting and curious, the idea that she was meant to keepthis car as long as she did because it helped lead her to Dean. It was a way for them to connect when all they had between them were handcuffs and prison bars.

Ava’s not the type to think that everything happens for a reason, especially not after the life she’s led, but maybe some things…maybethis thingdid have a purpose beyond staining her driveway with oil and feeding her anxiety.

A soft meow from the carrier jolts her from those thoughts before she can voice them. It’s just as well, things like that, thoughts of fate and destiny, are better off left unsaid or risk jinxing the entire thing.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” She smiles, one hand trailing down his chest and to his waiting palm, giving it a grounding squeeze. “Let’s go home.”

His face lights up with affection for her while he grabs the fussy cat. All three of them load into the truck a moment later, the carrier on her lap and her eyes fixated on the house they pull away from.

“Was thinking we could take the bike up to the mountains this weekend. Just me and you and some winding roads. You asked for a ride,” he offers, as they back out of the driveway and leave part of her past behind.

She isn’t sad though, isn’t conflicted or confused. She’s never been more certain that she’s making the right choice. An overflow of possibilities await and she’ll do nothing but embrace them, starting with a ride up a mountain on the back of a bike, wrapped around the man she loves while they curve and sway and explore the unknown.

“That sounds perfect. I’ve never been on a bike before, we won’t zoom off the side of the mountain, right?” She gives him a side eye that prompts a huff of amusement in return.

His hand turns palm up, an invitation for her to lace her fingers through his between their seats that she doesn’t hesitate to accept. “Nah, we’ll go slow once we get to those curves. Take ‘em easy, ain’t no rush. I’ll keep you safe.”

She has no doubt that he will. He’s already succeeded in protecting her body and her heart in so many ways, softening all her sharpest edges.

“I know,” she says, her voice soft and her hand heavy in his. “You always do.”

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