The worst part about all of this was how willing Avery was with handing over any amount of cash this woman could possibly dream of asking for. The monetary value wasn’t the issue here, it was the fact that at the very least, personal possessions belonging to him, his mother, and his childhood would then have to be sorted through and assessed on whetheror not it could be split, kept with Avery, or given to this new child.
For someone like Avery, that was a worst-case scenario. He was a private person to a fault. Opening up and allowing people to come in and dissect him on a deep level, along with his family issues, was probably the worst thing that could ever possibly happen to him.
Not to mention, he didn’t know either this woman or the kid.
Would he feel obligated in helping raise his sibling?
What would being a part of their life look like?
Avery had never planned on sticking around in Ellington Heights to begin with.
Would this woman expect to occupy the mansion while he went back to the city?
Would she be entitled to it and whatever came with being a McAllister?
None of this was supposed to be Avery’s problem. He’d come back from the city to deal with his father’s estate and then call it a day. Wiping his hands clean of everything would’ve been the ultimate relief once it was all said and done.
But now, with more shit added to his plate, who knew when he’d get to go back to his normal life.
A selfish part of me was happy to have him around a little longer, guilt soon swallowing that up while I was reminded of the fact that Avery never asked for any of this. He had a life and a job to get back to in the city.
The goal was never to be stuck here with the rest of us.
“Look, if you need me to pause work on the cars?—”
He shook his head. “Don’t. Keep working on them. If nothing else, I can store them back in that garage once you’re done.”
I glanced his way again. His face was set in a hard frown, his hands flexing on the steering wheel again.
“Please don’t quit on me.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
My gut squeezed tight. “I won’t. I never would.”
The corner of his mouth tugged up at that, relieving some of the tension that had settled in my body instantly. I hated seeing Avery under pressure like this. He handled it well, of course, as would be expected of someone like him. While I wasn’t sure what exactly his job title was, there was no doubt in my mind that it was something high up on the echelon.
Avery let out a soft chuckle.
To my surprise, he moved his hand away from the gearshift and settled it down onto my thigh, his long fingers curling around me with a tight enough grip that there would be no mistaking it for something else. My heart leaped in my chest at the contact, and how close he was to where I had my dick tucked.
“You always know what to say to make me feel better,” he said, squeezing my thigh once.
I swallowed, my voice gruff as I spoke. “Chalk it up to knowing you for decades.”
His thumb smoothed along the inner hem of my jeans—killing me. “True. Neither of us have really changed that much, huh.”
My head was fuzzy with need, barely able to hear him over the roaring of blood flowing through my eardrums. If he moved his hand an inch up, he’d be touching me where I really needed him. I was glad that these jeans were tight enough to not make much of a difference no matter how hard I was getting.
Sure, it fucking pinched like a bitch, but at least my arousal wasn’tthatobvious.
“Don’t know about that.” It felt like there were marbles rolling around in my mouth as I spoke. “Don’t even know your job.”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess I haven’t really talked about that. It’s nothing special. Just a CEO position at a tech company in the city.”
The nonchalant-ness in his tone had me snorting. As if being a CEO was equivalent to a stock manager down at the local mini-mart and that his paychecks weren’t a staggering few cool million a year. Hell, probably more than that given the notoriety of the McAllister last name.
“Just,” I echoed back to him.
He laughed again, squeezing my thigh once more and then trailing his hand down to where my knee was. “Oh stop. You know what I mean.”
