Page 56 of Avery's Hero

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 tell 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. “Agirl,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?”