Page 22
Story: Avery’s Hero
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It takes for-fucking-ever to get through traffic and into a parking lot near the boardwalk. How the hell did tiny Lynn’s Cove get so much damned traffic? It’s like the universe is conspiring to keep me from getting to Linc.
I slam my truck into park and leap out. But it’s too late. By the time I reach the boardwalk, my son has disappeared into the throng of people. “Great, just fucking great.” I scrub my hands through my hair and throw a pleading glance at the sky. A little help here would be nice.
Any day now some guardian angel can show up and tell me what to do, because I’m obviously making a giant hairy mess of things .
After returning to the truck to slam the door closed, I walk toward Avery. My stomach is clenched in an invisible fist. She didn’t deserve my asshole attitude, but I’m on a thin, razor edge right now.
The closer I get, the more my scowl hardens. Her shoulders are slumped, her hair covering her face, but there’s no mistaking the fact that she’s crying.
Damnit. She’s caught in the wake of this disaster.
When I walk up, she doesn’t raise her face to me.
“Did he say where he’s going?” I ask my voice in raw shreds.
“No. He just took off.” Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she looks away from me, instead of at me.
It hurts me to see her like this. It makes the last remains of my old, decrepit heart curl inward, turning to black, corroded metal.
Stepping in front of her, I cup her head with my palm and lean her forward until her cheek is resting against my abs. “Shhh. I’m sorry. I don’t know what he said, but I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this. From either of us. I’m sorry for being such a giant dickhead earlier.” Stroking her hair, I hold her, shielding her from the eyes of everyone on the boardwalk as she cries quietly.
When her breath catches in a sob, I swing her small body up in my arms and carry her to the truck.
She protests weakly. “ Please. Just let me deal with my own crap, Brock. This isn’t something you can fix.”
I buckle her in and close the door. Grinding my molars, I lurch around to the driver’s side. I’m all knots from the top of my shoulders to the pit of my stomach.
She stays silent as I drive up and down the streets, around all of the blocks of the downtown area .
There’s no sign of Linc at his favorite hangouts, the taco stand on the corner, or the skate park, or the ice cream shop.
Avery sighs and rests her head back on the seat, watching the houses pass by outside the window. Never once looking at me.
When I park in front of his friend Aaron's house, I say, “Hold tight.” I want her to say something, anything, but she doesn’t. She just looks away from me, her cheeks sunken, her body barely even moving with her breath. Avery looks broken. Far more than the day she was having a panic attack.
Seeing her like that rattles the fuck out of me.
When I come back, it’s hard for me to keep the frustration out of my voice. “They haven’t seen him.”
We drive more. The sun sets and the streetlights begin to flicker on. I tell the bluetooth phone connection on the truck to call Linc. It rings once, then goes to voicemail.
The back of my neck is tight as a barbed wire fence. “Why were you crying?” I ask too harshly. “Shit, that came out all wrong.”
“Because talking to your son stirred up some old, painful memories for me.”
Understanding hits me like a brick against the side of the head. The dots all suddenly connect. Avery was so vehement about not sending Linc to school because she was sent away.
“Where did your parents send you?” I ask, making my voice gentle as I can.
Rubbing her palms on her jeans, she lets out a rough breath. “Allamance.”
There’s a rock in my throat. I don’t know how my words can even fit around it. “How old were you? ”
“Fourteen.”
We drive for a long time. I’m not even sure where I’ve gone. My brain is too busy rehashing every word Avery has ever said to me. Thinking about the way she reacted to my kiss. All the signs that point to being abused by a man.
Minute by minute, my chest grows tighter. “How bad was it?”
In a reedy voice, she says, “Terrible.”
There are tears on her lashes. Her whole person is pale, from the top of her head to the tip of her fingers that are curling around the seatbelt.
I reach for her hand and put it in my palm. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
She nods, blinking away the tears that have welled up on her dark lashes.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
Looking away, she takes a shaky breath. “It’s been hard to let go of those memories.”
“I’m intimately familiar with trauma and the lasting effects from going to war. I’ll listen if you want to talk.”
I watch her, moving my eyes back and forth between her profile and the road.
“Not now. I’m not ready,” she finally says.
I draw a breath into my tight chest. “I’ll reconsider sending Lincoln.”
Her head whips around. “That makes me so happy.”
“It still might have to happen. If things don’t get better.” I signal and change lanes. “It’s making me crazy not to know where he is right now. He’s upset and desperate. He’s fifteen, for Christ’s sake.”
“I might know where he is.”
“What did Linc say?
“Nothing specifically, but… he did mention a girl. There’s something he needs to te ll you.”
As the streetlights along Main go by in a blur, I say, “Good luck getting him to talk.”
“How well do you know his friends?”
My brain is hung on the word girl. It’s circling around inside my head like an angry hornet. “I know them, why?”
“There’s something I think you should know.”
When I look over at her, the expression on her face is pained. She bites at her lip.
“What?”
Cringing, she says, “I really want him to tell you.”
“I could use a little help here, in case you didn’t realize.”
She growls, rubs her hands on her jeans. “You have to act like you don’t know..”
“Just spill it. Avery,” I grit out.
“There’s a girl named Belle.”
For a few seconds, I can’t process the words. When I look at Avery, she’s looking at me like I’m clueless. “A girl, Brock,” she says quietly.
I stomp the brake and swerve. A driver behind me blares their horn. He swerves wildly and guns his engine. We come to a sudden stop on the side of the road in the gritty emergency lane, the tires of my truck barking. “What are you saying?”
Looking far calmer than I feel, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I almost got us rear ended, Avery says, “He should tell you. But you need to be gentle with him. He’s really hurting and he’s just doing what he thinks is right…”
I peel my clenched fingers off the wheel as puzzle pieces start to fall into place. “Fuck. Why didn’t I think about a girl? I mean, he’s the right age.”
She studies my face for a few seconds, searching my eyes. “Don’t be mad at him.”
Oh. I’m mad. It’s too late. Anger simmers hot in my gut .
She rolls down her window and a fresh, stiff ocean breeze rolls through the cab of the truck. When she looks at me this time, she says, “I don't know what you two talk about, but he’s dealing with some heavy stuff.”
Suddenly, a rush of emotions unfurls in my gut. It surges up into my throat. “He told you about a girl that’s important to him, but didn’t tell me.”
She nods. “Don’t go getting all upset because he talked to me. I think he wants to tell you. Maybe he doesn’t know how.”
Fuck. I swallow down stinging pain, my own feeling of inadequacy and my frustrated anger. It’s a bitter cocktail.
“I’m sorry,” Avery says, reaching for my forearm. “I know you’re doing what you think is right. But somehow, you have to figure out a way to get him to open up. He needs your support right now. And I think he needs more of your time. When is the last time you took a day off?”
I grunt. Ashamed to admit the truth. “I don’t know.”
We stare at each other in the darkness of the cab of my truck. The shadows curving along her face are just like the ones from last night, right before she crawled on my lap and gave herself to me.
A second rush of emotions hits me square in the sternum. This strong, smart, brave beauty cares. She fucking cares about me. About Lincoln.
And god knows I fucking care about her. It’s crazy how possessive and concerned Avery makes me. I want to fix her world. Protect her from her pain. Past and future.
She sits up suddenly, “Hey, don’t you use an app or something where you can track him?”
I palm my forehead. “Jesus, I didn’t even think about that.” After a few seconds of staring at the app, I say. “It’s blinking. That means his phone is online. ”
Making a U-turn, I head back toward Lynn’s Cove proper. “Thank fuck for one thing today.” I pass Avery the phone so she can navigate.
“Brock, look at this.” She holds up the phone so I can see the screen.
“Shit. That’s our house,” I groan. “And I know why it’s pinging there. He doesn’t have his phone on him. I made him hand it over yesterday. It’s in the dresser in my bedroom.”
She twists her mouth. “Oooh.”
I slam the heel of my hand against the wheel.
“Don’t beat yourself up.” With tired eyes, she holds my gaze.
Sighing, I mutter. “Just three more years.”
The ringtone of my cell phone is loud and rude. Avery passes it to me with a worried look on her face. The display shows the number for Mick’s Dad. “Shit. I hope it’s Linc.” I throw a silent prayer skyward and answer.
“Hey Brock, this is Mick’s dad. He asked me to call you to tell you he’s here. He doesn’t have his phone.”
“I know. He lost his phone privileges. I’ll come right over.”
After a few silent seconds, the man says, “Actually, I was going to see if he can stay. Lincoln seems upset. Mick got pizza for them. They're in the den and the conversation seems pretty heavy.”
For a solid minute, I fight an internal battle. I need Linc home. We need to talk. “I’m not sure.”
“They are working through something. I know it’s hard being that age.”
Fuck. I stifle a growl. “Can you make sure they don’t leave tonight? He got into some trouble the other night.”
“We’ve had our share of late night challenges here. Let’s just say, I’ve made some changes to our security system. I’d know if they even left the second floor.”
My fingers start to ache and I realize I’m gripping the phone so hard the thing might snap. I’m a ball of worry.
Mick’s dad must know exactly how I’m feeling. He says, “He’s good here. I promise we’ll look out for him. I just think he needs some time to process whatever’s going on. I’ve been in your seat. I know how hard it is to deal with kids like ours—wild as hell. I’ll call if there are any problems.”
Unclenching my jaw, I say, “Alright. I’ll admit. I’m not in the best place to talk to him right now. I’ve got to figure out some things. But do me a favor, brother. Tell him that I’ve reconsidered the private school.”
He lets out a relieved sigh. “Sure. I know he’ll be so happy. I think you’re making the right choice. Let’s grab a beer tomorrow evening, what do you say?”
That, I didn’t expect. And I didn’t expect myself to like the idea so much. “Yeah, I’m in. I’m realizing how bad I am at this teen-parenting thing. I could use some commiseration.”
The guy lets out a groan, a sound of exasperation. “You’re not the only one. I’ll call you in the morning and bring Lincoln to you when he gets up. I won’t let him out of my sight.”
“Deal. And thanks.”
He disconnects and I toss my phone on the seat between us. “He’s in for the night at Mick’s parents' house.”
Avery’s relief is visible. With eyes so fucking soft, she says, “You did a good thing.”
“I hope so.”
Slowing the truck, I turn to look at her. She watches me, her expression compassionate. “Oh, Brock,” she says, as she reaches for me. Her hand brushes softly over my forearm. Feather light. After she strokes her hand up and down my arm a few times, she whispers, “I’m glad he’s staying there.”
Heat floods my groin. Blood as thick as lava starts to pump in my veins. My voice has gone totally rough when I ask, “Why is that?”
She leans toward me, and just before she presses her lips to my jaw, she whispers. “Because I want to take care of you tonight.”
Table of Contents
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- Page 22 (Reading here)
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