I don’t know how much longer I can keep waiting around for scraps. Every time I get even a little too real, she bolts. And yeah, I’m starting to get a sense that I might have given her a reason for that. But does that change anything? She hasn’t bothered to ask me, so would she believe me if I explained?
And what if that isn’t it at all? What if she just genuinely doesn’t want more from me? What if she genuinely can’t open up to anyone? I don’t know her past; there could be deeply rooted trauma there. She won’t let me in enough to find out.
I growl in frustration.
I’m so tired of this.
I shove my hands in my pockets and just focus on moving my feet, heading toward the Brooklyn Bridge. All around me there are scenes of normalcy, reminding me that life continues whether Ava and I get our shit together or not. The smell of fresh bread from a shop on the corner. The echo of a saxophone spilling out an open apartment window.
I pause at a crosswalk. The light flashes green for me to walk, but I remain rooted in place, watching the wind whip a plastic bag down the street. My thoughts are full of her. How she looked yesterday in my shirt with her hair piled in a messy bun. The softness of her lips against mine, the warmth of her skin beneath my palms—and then the coldness at the rink later when she’d shut me out.
The blaring ofa horn makes me jump back onto the curb and realize the light turned green. A yellow cab tears past, the driver leaning out just enough to flip me off and yell for me to fucking pay attention. Cold street water splashes up onto my jeans. I grimace and, out of habit, flip him off right back.
You’d almost think I was born here.
I turn down a quieter street lined with brownstones, some of the stoops dotted with giant bunnies and other Easter décor. Kids’ chalk drawings scribble across the sidewalk: rainbows, crooked hearts, lopsided cats. The sight tugs at me, and it makes me think of Jess and Ayden. Maybe I need to go home for a visit. Get away from all of this for a bit.
I pull my phone out again, debating on calling Jess to chat, but I remember it’s Sunday night and she’s probably at church. We aren’t a very religious family, but there aren’t many other opportunities for community in a small town. My thumb hovers over Ava’s name in my contact list, and for a second I imagine calling. Just telling her everything. All of the confusion, the wanting, and how she’s been under my skin since the first time we met.
But I don’t. Because what if she doesn’t answer? Or worse, what if she does and she tells me to leave her the fuck alone?
I shove the phone back in my pocket and keep walking.
I end up at the river without realizing how far I’ve gone. The water’s black in the fading light, dotted with glints of orange and yellow where the lights from surrounding buildings hit. I lean against the railing, the metal cool against my forearms, and stare out at the skyline. Manhattan rises across the water. There are some tourists lingering on the bridge, snapping pictures for their scrapbooks and social media.
I’ve always wanted to do touristy things, but felt silly doing them alone. Ava’s a native. Would she be willing to do those things with me? I don’t know the answer. In some ways, I can tell you everything about Ava Kendrick. Other times, I don’t think I know her at all.
This should be easy. Two adults with off-the-charts chemistry taking the time to see if maybe, just maybe, they could fall in love. Because ultimately, I think that’s what I want. Real communication, real access to her life, the real her. Not the ice queen or the viper. Not even my sweet cereus that only blooms for me at night. I want it all. I want to date her. Hell, I’d probably marry her if she gave me half a chance.
A decision is forming. No more half-measures; I’m done waiting. I’ve left this in her court long enough.
Chapter Seventeen
Ava
He has to be fucking kidding me.
Any triumph I felt at the email from Mark titled “Plea Offer” evaporated the minute I read the details. A felony? After three days of me running circles around him and poking holes in everything he had while getting nothing but radio silence at night? He’s out of his mind. The mayor must really be leaning on him to make an example of Katie.
Rage bubbles up inside me, and it takes me a minute to realize I’m also sweating in my cool office, and my dress is starting to feel itchy. Did I take my suppressant today? I think back and grimace when I remember that I definitely did. I really have to figure out a way to have another heat soon. This is happening more and more, and I’m going to end up with an unplanned breakthrough soon.Or possibly an overdose on suppressants. Doubling or even tripling up occasionally, like I’ve started to do, can’t be healthy.
Not that there’s any real research on it other than what my mother does, and I’m sure as hell not admitting to her that I’ve been doing that. She’d flay me alive. People thinkI’mscary? I have nothing on the matriarch of the Kendrick family.
I push a button in my desk drawer, popping open a hidden compartment. I snag the emergency bottle I keep in my office and frown at the nearly empty rattle. I must have been doubling up more than I’ve realized. I have my bottle at home, but at this rate, I’m going to need to get more very soon. I wash them down with the drink on my desk and put the empty bottle back in the compartment.
I open a new browser on my laptop and fire up my VPN, navigating to a web-based SMS service to send a text to Vinny. I refuse to call him my dealer. He’s just… my friend. That procures me illegal pharmaceuticals.
“What’s the weather going to be like on Friday? Sunny?”
It only takes a minute to get a response.
“Clear skies in the early evening around 5.”
A quick glance at my schedule confirms I can make that work.
“Perfect.”
That settled, I close the window and return to Mark’s email, reading over it again. It makes me just as angry the second time. I glance at the clock on the wall. I bet he’s still at the office. This late in the evening, there won’t be much traffic, and I can probably be there in less than twenty minutes.
