Rummaging through the plushies until I reached the back of the shelf, I grazed my hand over a plump one in the back that felt too soft to the touch not to drag out from the dusty and dark corner it’d been pushed back into. Grabbing a hold of it, I scooted it out until I could get a better look at it and thenended up laughing softly to myself when I realized it was actuallyperfect.
It was a chubby-looking pill bug sewn in a blue fabric that shimmered on the underside of the stitched thorax. Squeezing it a few times in my hands, I decided it definitely felt soft enough for Eva to cuddle with when she eventually needed to sleep again. Hopefully, on the way home once she was finally discharged.
As much as it pained me to see her hooked up to all of those machines, she was in the best place she could be at the moment. Having a sick kid wasn’t for the faint of heart, and that I didn’t envy Carrie over at all.
How in the world would I ever be able to handle any of this shit if, or when, hopefully, I ever had one of my own... Actually, I didn’t even want to dwell on the absolute fucking wreck I’d be.
Tucking the stuffed bug under my arm, I grabbed a few snacks for Carrie on the way up to the register and set everything down on the counter, flashing a polite smile at the older woman working the counter.
As much as I appreciated being involved in all of this, I had it in me to be wary of growing closer to Carrie, and subsequently, Eva, through a tough situation like this one. It hurt the first time I’d been forced to distance myself in order to help her save her relationship, and I wasn’t sure how I’d feel the second time around when it inevitably came once Ryan was back in the state.
Truthfully, I had every right to be annoyed with the guy for assuming things but at the same time, how would it feel if we were in the reverse roles?
If this was Brandon and I was coming back from a long flight to find his ex-spouse comforting and taking care of him and our child together?
Fuck, I’d lose it.
“Here you go, dear.” The cashier handed me a paper bag with my purchases in it. “Have a nice day.”
Shaking myself out of the thoughts, I took the bag and thanked her before heading out of the shop and back over to the elevators.
Brandon had been my wild card. An unexpected wrench in the gears that was my boring life here in the city.
Being surrounded by my childhood, and by him, had gotten me to reevaluate a lot of things. Had me thinking that maybe staying in Ellington Heights wasn’t so bad of an idea after all.
What was holding me in this city aside from avoiding my father who was now dead?
Outside of the drama with Ana Liapovich, I had the freedom to do whatever the hell I wanted now. Live wherever I wanted, including my childhood home back in Ellington Heights where I didn’t fear my father showing up just to fuck with me.
Could I live in Ellington Heights again?
At the very least, I’d have to quit my job.
There’d be no way of moving a company that size to a small town like Ellington Heights without some major economic pitfalls and tanking all of my employees’ hard work. Selling it off was an idea, along with turning it over to my VP, who’d been one of my best performers and confidants when cycling through our various board of directors until we’d finally settled on our current one.
An early retirement didn’t sound so bad. I had the McAllister property to call home and enough money to live more than comfortably for the next few centuries even if I never picked up a damn pen ever again.
Would Brandon want me to?
My stomach churned at the question.
I wanted him to want me to—stupid as that was. Me, a grown man, searching for the approval of another.
But wouldn’t he be the entire reason I’d be leaving my life here and picking up and moving back to Ellington Heights?
I had no other reason to. It wasn’t like my father’s, or rather,myestate couldn’t run itself as long as the bills were paid.
Hell, I bet Hazel loved having the entire place to herself and the staff. They could do whatever they wanted so long as the upkeep on it was maintained.
“Avery!”
Turning to the sound of my name, I spotted a man pushing his way through the security line, having just been checked, while he slung a bag over his shoulder and jogged over to me.
His dark hair was shaggy and pulled back from his face in a half-updo, his beard, which was usually well-groomed, looked messy and slightly greasy, like he’d been running his fingers through it nervously over the past few hours. He was tall, probably around Brandon’s height, but had a much more slender build.
Ryan.
He was panting heavily, probably having just run all the way from the parking garage to get over here. When he reached me, he bent over at his waist and rested his hands on his knees.
