Page 136 of Reaching Avery
I closed and locked the door, but I didn’t move from the entryway. My gut twisted and my heart rate seemed to spike as I waited for an answer. The silence was deafening.
Whatever was wrong had greatly affected the family I’d come to see as my own.
“Oh, bug,” Monica said as her mouth quivered. She reached for Avery and took hold of both his hands, staring up at him as he stood beside her chair.
“He’s back isn’t he?” Avery asked as his body started to shake. There was so much fear in his voice that my heart shattered. “He found us.”
Not able to stay away when he was hurting, I strode toward him and had my hand at his back moments later, offering any support I could. He pressed against my side, trembling.
If his dad had found them again, there was no way they were staying there another night. We had a guest house they could stay in. That lowlife bastard wouldn’t ever hurt Avery— or any of them—ever again. Not as long as there was breath in my lungs.
“No,” Monica said as a tear escaped her left eye. “I got a call today. I don’t know all the details yet, but there was an incident at the jail where he and a couple of other inmates attacked a guard. He was shot. He… he’s gone, bug.”
It was then I realized that her tears were ones of relief. Like a massive burden had been lifted from her petite shoulders.
Avery didn’t move or say anything for a while. His body had stopped shaking, and the same look that’d been in Declan’s eyes was now in his. When he left my side to go sit beside Declan, I watched him walk away. They whispered, too low for me to hear, but I didn’t try to eavesdrop anyway. It was a moment not meant for me.
Monica grabbed my hand. “Thank you. You and your family have done more for us than my own family ever did. But especially for being so good to my bug.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I said, sitting in the empty seat next to her. “I love your son with all of my heart.”
“I know,” she said, smiling and laying her hand over mine. “I see it.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, squeezing her hand.
“Never been better,” she answered as another tear fell from her eye. With a shaking hand, she grabbed her wine and took another drink.
***
After I called my mom and asked if Avery could stay the night, he packed a small overnight bag and we drove to my house. I didn’t want him away from me that night, not when I feared he’d cut. The ride there was quiet, and I hated not knowing where his head was at.
His unwavering stare out the window worried me.
Dad had just gotten home right before we did, so when we walked through the front door, we met him in the foyer. He was dressed in a nice shirt and slacks—his preferred clothes for under his white coat—and although he looked tired, he greeted us with a smile.
“Hey, Dad. How was work?”
“Good,” he answered. “A woman came in with a punctured lung, and I had to—”
“Dad. No,” I said, feeling squeamish. Funny how I loved science, but the medical aspect of it grossed me out. The only bad grade I’d ever gotten in science had been the assignment where we’d had to dissect a sheep’s eye. “Glad your day was good, but spare me the details before I puke.”
He snickered before giving a jaw popping yawn. “I’m going to bed. Make sure you get sleep tonight too, kiddo. You have a big game tomorrow.” He pulled me in for a side hug before ruffling Avery’s hair. “You too.”
Avery smiled as he patted down his hair. “The dead never sleeps.”
It wasn’t a huge exchange, but it was significant. Without saying it, Dad had accepted me—us. He didn’t treat Avery like an outsider anymore, and he’d stopped giving underhanded comments about me eventually finding a girlfriend.
By the time me and Avery made it to my room, it was almost eleven. My game was at one the next day, but I had to be at the field an hour and a half before that. I stripped down to just my boxers as Avery changed into pajama bottoms.
As we crawled into my bed, I pulled him into my arms. I wasn’t tired, and by the way he stared at the ceiling, I knew he wasn’t either.
“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?” I asked, brushing aside his bangs so I could see his face.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I’m happy my dad’s gone.” He turned to his side and faced me. “Does that make me an awful person?”
“No.” One arm was beneath his head, and I held his side with the other, gliding my fingertips up and down his bare skin. “You’re not happy that he died, but relieved at the fact he’ll never be able to hurt you or your family again. There’s nothing awful about that.”
A moment passed as we lay like that. Having him so close awoke other urges in me, but he needed comfort right then, not sex. And I had no problem just cuddling the heck out of him all night, if that’s what he wanted.
