Page 2

Avalon Warner

How It’s Going…

God’s sake, Avie. You can’t write Parrish into your fiction.

Leaning back against the headboard of my bed, I scowled at the fantasy manuscript I was writing between homework assignments, classes and my work on campus.

I didn’t have time for subconsciously inserting my pen pal crush into the action, but sure enough, my hero had shaped up to be disturbingly close to Parrish Locksby.

Only, my hero wielded a sword rather than a hockey stick.

My phone went off next to me as I contemplated my problem, one I didn’t really want to fix, and I scowled over at the screen.

I only had fifteen minutes of writing time left before leaving for class that morning, but the caller was my older sister, Meredith.

That meant, I needed to answer, or she’d call me thirty-seven more times.

After hitting save on my document, I reached for the cell and answered a split second before she’d go to voicemail.

“Hi, Mer,” I answered.

“What took so long?” she grouched, without greeting. She’d never been a morning person.

I closed my eyes, quietly sighing. This was why I wrote fiction.

“I was saving my work before answering.” She didn’t need to know it wasn’t schoolwork, so I didn’t clarify. All my sister cared about was me getting top grades, graduating with honors then getting a job and never coming home.

I wished that was a joke, but since my parents died, my older brother and sister both saw me as a hassle who’d held them back from moving forward with their lives.

Excuse me for only being twelve when my mom and dad had been in their accident.

Though they’d never said so, I’d been an ‘oops baby’ when they’d thought they were done with kids.

When we’d lost our mother and father, my brother was twenty-two and my sister was twenty.

They’d shuffled me between them and never let me forget what a burden they’d taken on by keeping me—or letting me come to stay with one of them during the summer breaks from university.

“What’s up?” I asked when she didn’t say anything.

“Do you have a job yet?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

I heard the annoyed breath she huffed out. “I take it, you don’t have a place to stay after graduation, either?”

“No…” I said, dragging out the word. “It’s only March. I don’t know where I’ll be working after graduation, so I haven’t started looking for apartments.”

“Well, you can’t come back here,” she snapped.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

She’d already been vocal about her ‘duty’ being done as far as I was concerned, and that she’d done more than should be expected of anyone. I pitied her future kids, if she ever had any.

“And Ben’s job is sending him to Brazil for work. He’ll probably be there for a year, maybe more—”

“I wasn’t planning to go there, either,” I interrupted. “You guys have been crystal clear.”

“You don’t need to be snarky.”

My eyes widened as I drew in a long breath and held it. Snarky? She had no idea how I’d minded my temper and kept my opinions to myself for the past ten years.

“Did you need anything besides that?” I asked calmly, clenching my hands into tight fists in my lap.

“Yeah. Did you take mom’s jewelry with you when you left in the fall?”

“No. Nothing besides what I’ve always had.” I actually had precious little of my parents’ things. Since my siblings had been older than me, adults, they’d taken first pick of things and sold most of the rest.

“Do you have her wedding ring?”

“I’ve had it since I was twelve. You know that. You gave it to me because neither you nor Ben wanted it as a reminder.” The way she’d dropped it onto my dresser, after the funeral, depositing it as if it were a piece of trash, would be burned into my memory forever.

“I want it back.”

My breath caught in my chest, and I couldn’t form words past my shock.

“Avalon, did you hear me? I want Mom’s ring.”

“No. No, you—“

“Avalon, you owe me—”

“I don’t,” I snapped. It was all I had besides pictures. After the way she’d discarded it, and I cherished it all these years, I wasn’t giving it up.

“How dare—”

“Goodbye, Mer,” I said and disconnected. Maybe, it was cowardly, but I turned off my phone. She could leave me all the messages that she wanted, but I wouldn’t hear them right now.

Turning to sit on the edge of my bed, I leaned forward, resting my forearms across my legs and dropping my head forward. I may have just burned a bridge with my sister, but that bridge had been on its last legs after I’d returned to school this year.

“Avalon!” My door slammed against the wall as my roommate, Sheena, burst into my room, and I shot upright, seeing her waving around a container.

Jesus, if it wasn’t my family yelling at me, it was my roommate. I was going to be late for class.

“What, Sheena?” I asked wearily. This was bound to be another of what was far too many confrontations we’d had since the end of August.

“Why did you eat the last of my strawberries?” she yelled.

“I didn’t.”

“Well, where are they then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, you ate them—or one of your friends ate them,” I said.

“They didn’t. I didn’t,” she insisted.

Annoyed with life, I threw my hands into the air, standing and packing up my things to go to class. Thank God, I had my shift at the library tonight.

“You owe me strawberries,” she insisted.

“I don’t owe you anything,” I replied. “You eat my food all the time.” So much so that I never bought anything refrigerated and kept a small stash of food hidden in my room. Otherwise, I ate on campus. “And besides that…I’m fucking allergic to strawberries. And you know that, too.”

My phone pinged, and I gritted my teeth in frustration. I’d thought I’d turned it off! Hastily, I glanced at it before shoving the device into my pocket. An email from Parrish. Thank God. After this morning, I needed a distraction.

I slung my backpack over my shoulder then stood and stared at Sheena, waiting for her to leave my room.

She stared back for a long moment then finally huffed and stormed out.

I heard the plastic bowl clatter into the sink in the kitchen, sounding a lot like she’d whipped it into the stainless-steel basin.

“Jesus,” I hissed under my breath. Today was a total avalanche of crap and it was only morning.

I didn’t bother to glance over at her as I marched out, knowing I’d probably bring her a container of strawberries just to smooth over her temper later on.

As soon as I was outside the apartment door, I pulled out my cell and thumbed open my email.

— . — . —

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: March 17, 2025 Subject: One Month Left

Did you just call me out for Nickelback? C’mon, someone has to like them. I’m a big fan of Burn It to the Ground . It’s great for amping up pregame.

Which reminds me. We’re eleven months into this back and forth game, and you’re still giving me crap?

I think I’m in love.

Also, I’m not losing this bet.

I’ll figure out who you are before April 15. That’s our one year mark.

I don’t lose.

P

— . — . —

I grinned. We’d made a bet over him figuring out my name, but I had news for him. This time, jock or not, crush or not, he was definitely going to lose. Because Parish Locksby, captain of the hockey team, and dorky Avalon Warner…yeah, no. That wasn’t happening.

Still, I couldn’t stop smiling at his email. I would definitely keep having fun and pretending he really could love me. While it lasted, anyway.