Page 92 of Reaching Avery
Before she could say anything else that’d make me even more emotional, I left the kitchen and patted my pocket to make sure I had my keys. She called for me to drive carefully, and I answered with my usual, “I will.”
The cold weather had backed off a little that day, and as I walked to my car, the sun warmed my back. Honestly, the weather was perfect, just like I hoped the day would be. I rolled down the windows as I drove, loving the smell of fall and the crispness of the air. Knowing how much Avery loved Black Veil Brides, I had bought their newest CD calledValeand had it playing.
I bobbed my head to the music, probably looking like a moron, but not caring.
Trees passed in a blur, and I realized I was going too fast, so I slowed down. Something about driving on the backroad toward Avery’s neighborhood brought out the speed demon in me. Perhaps it was the lack of people and cars that did it. Just like the night I’d flown over the railroad tracks and popped a tire.
That night seemed like so long ago. But it’d been the night I’d known—really known—that I wanted him in my life.
And now I’m picking him up so he can meet my parents.
We’d come far since the night he’d joked about devil worshipping at the train tracks. Even back then, I’d seen his funny personality; it’d just been buried a little under his initial mistrust of me. There were still things I didn’t know about him, but like he’d said the day before, we all had a past.
He just needed more time before letting me know about his.
Pulling up to his house, I parked before getting out and walking up to the front door. Before I knocked, it opened, and his mom stood there.
“Hey, Maverick,” she greeted, opening the door wider. Unlike last time, her smile was sincere. I took that as a good sign. “Avery’s in his room. He’ll be out in a few.”
I nodded and put my hands in my pockets as I entered the house.
Monica looked way too young to be a mom to a seventeen year old. I wasn’t dumb enough to ask her how old she was, but she must’ve been just a kid herself when she had Avery. And she was hot. Like scorching hot.
I might’ve been gay, but I wasn’t blind.
“You can have a seat if you want,” Monica said, motioning to the couch. Not wanting to be rude, I went and sat down. She sat beside me and pulled her legs up beneath her. She was so tiny that she barely took up half the cushion. “Why do you like my son?”
Taken aback by her question, it took me a second to gather my thoughts.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I studied her, answering her in a different way. “He’s kindhearted, funny, and an amazing guy. The bigger question is why does he likeme?”
Her face softened and she looked down, reminding me so much of Avery. He really took after her.
“Avery has been through a lot,” she said in a regretful tone. “I’m not sure how much he’s told you, but his daddy wasn’t a nice man. His whole life, people have hurt him—his own family and then the cruel kids at school. So many schools he’s attended, and each and every one, I’ve had to see him come from with a bloody nose, a black eye, or in tears. Sometimes all three at once.”
Her eyes watered and she quickly looked behind us at the hallway. I guess to see if we were still alone. Looking back at me, she reached and grabbed my hand. “Just take care of my baby, okay? He doesn’t show emotion as easily as others, but I’ve seen such a change in him since you’ve come into his life.”
So hehadbeen abused. My heart dropped into my stomach, and the corners of my eyes stung. No wonder he was so introverted, always hunching his shoulders in large groups of people and flinching if I unexpectedly touched him.
“I will,” I said, and I fully intended to keep my word. “I’ll never hurt him.”
I was still trying to process all that she told me when Avery walked into the living room.
Seeing us, he narrowed his eyes. “Hey… what’s up? Did someone die? I haven’t seen faces that grim since my pet squirrel got ran over.”
“You had a pet squirrel?” I asked, standing up and facing him.
“Yes.” He arched a brow. “And his name was Mr. Nuts.”
I stifled my laugh with a cough.
“Oh, bug,” Monica said, getting off the couch and going up to him. She ran her fingers through his hair before resting her hands on his shoulders. “We were just talking. No one died.”
They talked a bit—too quiet for me to hear—and then Avery approached me. I felt awkward greeting him in front of his mom, not knowing what he’d be comfortable with, so I gave him a one-armed hug.
After we told Monica bye, we went outside. We didn’t say anything at first, and I suspected he was in his head with anxiety. Also, his mom was watching us from the living room window, so that might’ve been weird for him too. It sure was for me.
The hairs on my nape prickled.
