“So what are you going to do about it?” Vasquez grabbed the last slice of bacon off his plate and popped it into her mouth.
He sighed. “Give him some space.” Write a formal apology? He wasn’t the best with words, but he’d literally kissed and ran, so, for Avery, he’d try.
“Oh, man. You have it bad.” Vasquez winked.
“I do not.” He did. So bad, and he wanted even more.
The alarm sounded.
“Come on, rookie.”
Unfortunately, the plan to give Avery space was a spectacular failure. Seacroft was small, and suddenly Avery was everywhere.
At the supermarket. Linc was buying a week’s worth of groceries for the fire station. Avery avoided eye contact and threw another bundle of celery into his cart.
At the diner. Jordan and Chelsea invited him out as some kind of peace offering. Of course Avery was also eating there, with his aunt and a balding man Linc had to assume was his uncle. Avery’s aunt greeted him warmly. Avery mumbled hello and chatted with Chelsea instead.
At the dry cleaner’s. The SFD was called in on an alarm that turned out to be a suspected chemical spill. The owner—who looked like he was about ninety—was out on the street corner waving his arms and telling everyone to stay back. Avery was also on the sidewalk, a dismayed expression on his face and three shirts on hangers in his hand. But by the time Linc did a preliminary walk-around and notified the neighboring store owners, Avery had disappeared.
And, finally, at the gym. They hadn’t spoken in a week, though they’d somehow seen each other nearly every day. Avery walked in as Linc was finishing his second weight circuit and heading for a final cardio round on the treadmill. For the first time, Avery met his eyes. Relief bloomed in Linc’s chest, then died again just as quickly when Avery slipped a pair of earphones in and walked past him.
Served him right. He focused on running, like he needed to focus on his job. And his sisters. Lacey called him twice the day before, and he hadn’t had a chance to call her back. He was done moping. Time to get on with his life.
Except Avery stepped onto the treadmill right in front of his. The earbuds were still in, and he didn’t glance backward as he set down his water bottle. Linc tried to look anywhere else. The TVs overhead, the guy at the front desk handing out towels. He watched the eighty-year-old man with skin like a deflated football doing chin ups like a Navy SEAL. But every time, his eyes went back to Avery.
At first, he admired the things he’d missed. The red hair. The pale skin. The determination in his spine as he set a brisk pace. Linc was on his cooldown, so he was only at five miles an hour. Avery started a bit faster and moved up quickly. He appeared intent on his run, so Linc admired the things he’d hardly let himself look at before. The shape of his calves kicking back with each stride. The bounce of his ass in his loose-fitting shorts. The flush creeping up the back of his neck as he started to sweat.
Fuck.Linc had to get out of here. His finger was on the button of his treadmill, ready to call it a day, when Avery missed his stride. One second, he was moving at seven or eight miles an hour, and then next his hands were lurching forward, grasping for the handles as the treadmill belt carried his feet out from under him. One, two stumbling steps and the orange soles of his shoes flew toward Linc.
He was off his own treadmill as Avery’s chin smacked against the belt and on his knees before Avery finished hitting the carpeted floor.
* * *
Of course he fell. Of course. That’s what he got for proving a point. He’d done his best not to think about Linc all week, which was hard because suddenly he waseverywhere. The supermarket and the diner weren’t a complete surprise—Seacroft had one place to shop and only a few decent places to eat. But what were the odds Avery’s dry cleaner would initiate a natural disasterandthe fire department would be the first people on scene for something like that?
Now he was at the gym. Avery realized avoiding Linc was impossible because they even shared a freaking gym membership. So he would prove it didn’t matter. Avery could be the bigger person.
He put on his music and started the treadmill. But he couldn’t shut his brain off. He was still mad. And yet behind that lurked all the things he tried not to want. Linc’s mouth on his, the taste of him on Avery’s tongue. The way he’d gone off on Oliver, even if he’d been wrong, when hardly anyone had ever stood up for Avery in his entire life. The firmness of his hands on Avery’s shoulders as he’d told him Avery deserved someone who loved him back, and Avery had only been able to think how much he wished that person was Linc.
These thoughts tumbled through his brain as he ran. He cranked up the speed, trying to outrun them, but instead, he overstepped, kicked the plate at the front of the treadmill, and squawked as his groin pulled while his left foot slid back. His elbow banged on the rail, and his chin hit the belt. Avery smelled rubber and tasted blood as he unraveled onto the carpet, burning his knees.
“Are you okay?” Linc’s hand was on Avery’s back.
All Avery wanted to do was melt into the floor before his tears overflowed and he had to face Linc again. He’d been trying to be the bigger person, dammit, and instead he only proved what a disaster he was.
“Hey, Avery. Can you look at me?” Linc’s voice was calm, his touch firm but gentle.
“I’m fine,” Avery said.
“Did you cut yourself?” Linc’s fingers were under his chin, lifting it up.
Avery blinked hard, holding back tears from the pain but mostly from the embarrassment. He tore his gaze away before it could connect with Linc’s. People were watching. Some were coming toward them. They’d want to know what happened, but how was Avery supposed to explain he’d been running away from the memories of his friend-not-boyfriend who kissed him once and disappeared and who Avery was pretty sure he was half in love with anyway?
“I’m fine.” He brushed away Linc’s hand before it could touch his mouth, or his cheek, or stroke his shoulder while Linc told him everything would be okay.
He needed to get out.
“Avery—”
