Page 38 of My One
“Almost,” Jane answered. “But Av has something he needs to tell us first.”
All eyes turned to me.
I guess I was telling them before dinner.
Under the table, Nic squeezed my knee, and I smiled tightly at her. I wasn’t nervous to tell them. They all knew my parents—except, of course, Nicole and Brooke—and needed to know. It just sucked that it was my reality because, deep down, I wanted those answers from my parents that I would never get now.
“What about Chey?” Brooke asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “She doesn’t need to hear this.”
Easton leaned forward. “What is it?”
I laced my fingers with Nicole’s and gave her hand a little squeeze as I watched Jimmy grab a beer from the fridge. I needed another one. I needed ten. Hell, I needed the strongest alcohol there was because so many emotions were running through my body. A part of me felt as though I shouldn’t care that they died since they didn’t care about me. The other part felt as if a piece of me was gone. It was silly since all I’d ever wanted was to be accepted by them, but I never had been. Maybe I should have tried harder to live out their dream of their son playing in the Major League. Maybe I should have tried harder to gain their love. Maybe I should have actually gone to visit them instead of only calling. Maybe. But now I’d never know if that would have changed things.
Taking a deep breath, I answered Easton as I looked down, not meeting anyone’s stare. “My parents died on Friday.”
Jane dropped the utensil she was using on the stove, the only sound in the room being her gasp as my words sank into each person. It felt like minutes before someone spoke, but I knew it was only a few seconds.
“How?” Easton asked, concern in his voice.
I took a deep breath and met his gaze. “Car accident.”
I heard Jane suck in another breath and my gaze moved to see Jimmy wrap her in his arms. Jane pulled back slightly to look into Jimmy’s eyes, and I thought I saw a silent question move between them. Jimmy shook his head slightly and pulled his wife against him again. Back in the day, they would come over to my parents’ place for barbecues and let Easton and I play together, so they had to be friends, but I wasn’t sure because it seemed as though no one had talked to my parents in over seven years.
Brooke reached out and patted my free hand while Nic squeezed the hand she was holding.
“I’m sorry,” Easton responded. He knew how I felt about my parents. “What can we do?”
“Cover my shifts for a few days. Tomorrow, Nic and I are flying to Santa Barbara to see what all needs to be done.”
“Whatever you need,” Easton assured me. Easton and I both stood and engulfed each other in a hug. I hugged Jane and Jimmy next and then Brooke.
“This breaks my heart.” Jane gave me a sad smile. “But they’re in a better place now.”
I didn’t know what that meant. To me, when people said those words, it was because the person who died was sick or in pain. Did they know something I didn’t? Surely if my parents had cancer or something, and Jimmy and Jane knew, they would have told me.
“Sorry to drop this on you all before dinner,” I stated.
“Nonsense. We’re family,” Jane said.
I gave a solemn smile. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”
The next morning, Nic and I flew to California. After a layover in Phoenix, we flew into Santa Barbara where we took a cab straight to the coroner’s office—the sheriff had given me the address when he called back. I didn’t have my parents’ address. They’d moved just north of where Easton and I had grown up in Ventura. I had no idea what their house looked like, where it was located, nothing. Growing up, my mother was a housewife, and my father was a top plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills, but they were strangers to me.
The taxi pulled up to the coroner’s office. After getting out of the car, I grabbed our bags and followed Nicole into the white building. I’d never had to identify a body before, and now I was going to confirm that two were my parents.
“Can I help you?” the woman behind the desk asked after hanging up the phone.
“I’m here to …” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’m here to identify my parents.”
“And your name?”
“Avery Scott.”
“Have a seat. It will be a few minutes.”
“Thank you.” I turned to sit in the chair next to Nicole.
