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I catch the glint of sun on hair like spun copper, and there she is – Avery striding away with Olivia in tow. "Avery, please!" The words tear from my throat raw and ragged, more plea than call.
She clutches Olivia's hand tighter, hitting an urgent pace that doesn’t invite pursuit. I lunge out the door after her, the bite of winter air slapping me across the face. No coat. No guard. Just the cold truth settling in.
"Wait!" I gasp out, my breath a white cloud dissipating into the frigid air.
But it's like I'm invisible to her, a ghost haunting the edge of her new reality where trust doesn't come cheap, and second chances are a fool's currency. Avery's stride never falters, and Olivia's small figure keeps pace, oblivious to the storm brewing between the adults in her life.
"Please, Avery!" This time it's barely a whisper, whipped away by the wind as they reach the car. I'm running now, ignoring the icy needles pricking my skin, the numbness creeping into my fingers. I have to fix this before it freezes into something unbreakable.
"Hey, Olivia," I say, a bit out of breath. She looks up from where her small hand is engulfed in Avery's and gives me a cheery wave.
"Hi, Victor!" Her innocence is a balm, but it stings knowing I'm the cause of the tension between us.
"Mom, what's wrong?" Olivia's head tilts, her brow knitting together as she senses the atmosphere. She's perceptive, that one.
Avery takes a deep breath, glancing at me with a flicker of something like regret before returning her gaze to our daughter. "It's nothing, Liv."
"Mom, you shouldn't lie." Olivia's voice is firm, and I can hear Avery taught her to value honesty above comfort. "If you're upset, you should talk about it."
"Olivia's right," I manage to choke out, my heart hammering against my chest, hoping Avery will take her own advice.
"I'm just... upset about something I read," Avery admits, her voice barely above a murmur. It's not the whole truth, but it's a start.
"Then talk to the person," Olivia insists, looking from her mother to me, her young face earnest. She's the bridge when there's a chasm opening beneath our feet.
I nod, silently pleading with Avery to just give me a chance to explain.
I reach out, my fingers brushing against the cold metal of the car door as Olivia clambers into the back seat. Avery makes a move to follow her daughter, but I wedge myself in, holding the door open with a firm grip. "Avery, please. Let me explain."
She hesitates, a flicker of conflict crossing her features before she glances back at Olivia. With the wisdom that belies her age, Olivia waves her handdismissively, mouthing words that look like 'go sort it out.'
"Okay, okay," Avery murmurs to herself more than to me, and keys the ignition, the car's engine humming to life. She hits the heat, and I can almost feel the warmth spilling from inside the vehicle as she stands there, the door only slightly ajar, as if our conversation hangs by the same thin thread.
"Look, I'm sorry," I blurt out, my breath forming clouds in the chilling air. "The email from Jenna... I asked her to check on you ages ago, before—you know—before us."
Her eyes find mine, they're guarded, but I see the hurt too. "I get that, Victor." Her voice is steady, but there's an edge to it. "But it doesn't change things."
"Change what, exactly?" The question tumbles out, desperate for something tangible to grasp.
She sighs, long and heavy, the vapor twining with mine in the space between us. "Victor, I just..." She trails off, and there's a world of words left hanging, unsaid.
Avery's gaze drops to the snow-dusted ground before meeting mine, a storm behind those eyes I've come to know so well.
"Victor, this—everything that's happened—it's just too much. I've let myself get too wrapped up in... in us. And there's the development. It's always going to be there, between us. You want it built, and I'm terrified of what it means formy home."
"Have you thought about making Boston your home? With me?" The question hangs in the frigid air, desperate hope clinging to each word.
Avery's lips part, and she looks at me with such sadness it twists something deep inside my chest. "I can't," she whispers. "I gave everything up for a man once, and look where that got me. I'm sorry, but I'm not doing it again."
Her apology slices through me, sharp and unexpected. My jaw clenches hard enough to hurt. "You don't know how it feels, Avery," I spit out, the words laced with ice. "To love people, to think they're your forever, and then they just abandon you. Not once," I say, a bitter edge sharpening my voice as I think of the family who broke their promise, "but twice."
She doesn't respond, just blinks back tears that don't fall. She gets into the car and I slam the door shut, the sound echoing hollow in the emptying parking lot.
I don't wait for her to drive away. I can't. Instead, I turn on my heel, every step away from her driving another nail into the coffin of what could have been. I slide into my car, the leather cold against my skin, and start the engine. The warmth does nothing to chase away the chill.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Victor