I clear my throat. “I don’t really have many memories of him. Left before we turned two. But I have a picture of him reading to me. And my mom said I got my love of books from him.”
Avery appraises me, her eyes scanning my face like she’s assessing if I’m about to crack or not. Which isn’t going to happen. I’ve spent years compartmentalizing that portion of my life. It’s locked up. Tight.
She must decide I seem okay because her face brightens as she steps toward me. “Sounds like he left you the only good things he had to offer: pretty books and pretty genes.”
Her nose scrunches as she smiles, like talking about my estranged father is as ordinary as commenting on the gas prices. It’s strangely refreshing. There’s no pity left in her eyes as they sparkle in my direction.
My mouth bobs open as all words vacate my mind. Wait. Did she just call me pretty? What am I supposed to say to that?
A guttural call echoes from the hall, and seconds later, Dollyboy runs into the room, a pink feathered toy clenched between his tiny jaws.
“He brought you a gift!” Avery coos.
And I’m grateful, not necessarily for the fuzzy present he drops at my feet, but for the interruption. Avery has been switching the playbook on me left and right, and I’m trying my hardest to keep up. A purr hums from Dolly as he stares up at us with content blue eyes. I nudge the toywith my toe as Avery falls to her knees next to her cat. She smiles and pets him, and he weaves between us both, eating up the attention.
Despite all of Avery’s chaos, I’m glad to have someone else using Maggie’s room. I’m glad to have someone here who doesn’t tiptoe around tough subjects, no matter how awkward it may be. And I’m glad that, despite the fact I’ve gotten used to sitting in a silent house flipping through my latest read, she and her cat are here interrupting me.
I hadn’t realized how much I needed it or how excruciatingly quiet this place had become.
CHAPTER NINE
AVERY
If Ty thinkswe’re just going to move on from the fact that apparently he hates dancing, he’s wrong.
“I don’t know if I can live here if you don’t like dancing,” I say, watching as Dolly—once again—ditches me to suck up to Ty.
They both perch on the edge of his bed.
Ty grunts. “That’s the dealbreaker about where you sleep? Not muggings? Or needles on the sidewalk?”
Shaking my head, I stand from the floor, and land next to Ty on the bed, sandwiching Dolly between us. He shifts a little, putting some distance between himself and Dolly and me.
He’s been so welcoming about me coming to live with him, but he draws the line at me sitting on the bed?
I clear my throat. “You don’t dread the dance because you can’t dance, Ty, right?”
He tucks his chin to his neck,his face flattening into some weird expression that almost makes me giggle. “I can dance.”
“Prove it.”
“No.”
“It’s okay if you can’t dance, Ty. A lot of guys can’t dance.”
“It’s not that.” A hand runs over his blond hair.
“Then what is it?” I ask.
“It’s because the last time I slow danced was at a school dance. In middle school.”
I bite my lip. That is just so…wholesome.“I bet that girl felt like the luckiest girl in the world.”
I swear for a split second his mouth almost twitches into a smile.
“And now you’ll be using those moves on your mom,” I add.
He squeezes his eyes shut. “Don’t say that.”
