Page 41 of My One
“Told you.” Avery ate a few of his.
I grinned. “Okay, the fries are definitely better than Shake Shack. I think those are frozen, and I saw the workers at In-N-Out slicing the potatoes while I went through the drive-thru.”
“Burger’s better too. Try it.”
I took a bit of it and was surprised at how flavorful it was. “Okay, it’s good, but I’m not saying it’s better just yet.”
“It’s better,” he stated. “Easton’s going to be so jealous. I should text him a picture.” Avery reached for his phone that was on the nightstand next to him and took a picture of his spread. He typed something on his phone and then set it down. A few seconds later, it buzzed with an incoming text, and he picked it up. After reading the message, he laughed. “Yep. Pissed.”
“I didn’t know you had such a thing for cheeseburgers.”
“No.” Avery shook his head and then took another bite. “I can’t eat like this now, but growing up, E and I used to hang out every Friday night at the one where we grew up. I could eat two double-doubles, fries, and a shake, and not gain weight.”
“Because you were an athlete.”
“I guess, but I wouldn’t mind being able to get this whenever I wanted.”
“You want to move back to California?” I questioned.
“No.” He frowned. “Our life is in New York. Being back is making me a little nostalgic.”
I ate another bite of my cheeseburger. “When Brooke and I flew into LAX and took the bus to Long Beach, I hadn’t realized how beautiful California is.”
“That’s because you only saw the city. Cali has a lot of beautiful places.” Avery took a sip of his shake.
“Then we’re going to have to come back. I wouldn’t mind coming every year so you can get your burger fix, and I can see more of California.”
“I’d like that.” Avery kissed my cheek and then got off the bed to throw his trash away.
My phone buzzed with a text, and I grabbed it.
Brooke:How’s Avery doing?
Me:I think he’s okay. He hasn’t really said much about the deaths.
Brooke:I’m sure it’s tough for him.
Me:I think he cares, but he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t since they wrote him off 7 years ago.
After I sent Brooke the last text, I looked over to see Avery going through the clear bag of his parents’ belongings. I knew that I was right. Avery cared, but was trying to pretend their deaths weren’t affecting him. From everything I’d been through, I knew it was only a matter of time before it hit him again. Just like on the beach in Montauk.
The next morning, we drove to the address listed on both of his parents’ driver’s licenses. Avery pulled the car into a pavered-stone driveway behind huge hedges that were obviously there for privacy.
“This is it?” I asked, taking in the two-story home with a red tiled roof that seemed to be the norm in the coastal town.
“GPS says it is.”
Avery put the car into park, and we exited. It was apparent that the property was well taken care of. The bushes were trimmed, hedges shaped in rectangles, and various flowers were in bloom. I took in everything while we walked to the front door. Avery got the keys from his pocket and tried each one until, finally, one of the keys worked, and the French double doors with glass panes opened.
There were no signs of animals, like Avery had said. There were no signs of life at all. Everything appeared to be white: a white couch, white chairs, white walls. The only color was in the hardwood floors and the wood coffee table that sat between the couch and the chairs. Even the wilting flowers on the coffee table were white roses.
“They really liked white, huh?” I questioned.
“I … I don’t remember.”
“Well, it seems like it.”
I moved into the kitchen. It too was white except for the dark gray granite countertops and the stainless steel appliances. But what made the room beautiful was the view of the backyard from the window above the sink. A giant pool, at least fifty feet long, sat not too far from the window, followed by a manicured yard. Bushes with pink flowers lined the back of the yard.
