Ava wasn’t sure why he felt the need to leave, but she wasn’t sure begging him to stay was the right move. If Trey had felt even a sliver of what she’d felt during that kiss, he was probably going to have to do some self-reflection.
Before he turned to the door, Trey leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He didn’t say goodbye to her or Magnus, simply walked out the door.
Ava turned to Magnus when they were alone, and she saw the lingering pain on his face. What he’d said earlier about being broken had shredded her heart. Couldn’t he see? He wasn’t broken. He washuman.
It wasn’t his fault that somewhere along the way, someone decided they could categorize humans. They created these boxes—male or female—and decided slot A from one box went into slot B from the other. But they didn’t take into consideration that there were people who were different from them. Humans had evolved, and thank God or the universe or whatever higher power might be out there for that. Because humans couldn’t be cataloged or labeled based on one man’s view of the world. (And fine, she was assuming a man decided all that nonsense because women were hunting and gathering or tending house and raising babies back in the Stone Age and the olden days.) Diversity and inclusion should not be a luxury but a standard. The heart wanted what it wanted, and it couldn’t be restricted to someone’s definition of normal that never should’ve been set in the first place.
“You’re not broken,” she told Magnus as she moved toward him.
He stared down at her, and some of the strain disappeared. “Neither are you.”
“That’s still up for debate.” Ava wasn’t ready to say she was fixed, because she had a long way to go for that. She’d told Magnus her story, and she’d talked to Dr. Briggs about that yesterday. They had agreed that it was progress. But a few days of therapy and confessing the horror hadn’t gotten rid of the nightmares, but she was taking Trey’s advice and giving it her all because, for the first time in her life, Ava was able to put herself first.
“So what’s for lunch?” she prompted, trying to lighten the mood.
“What sounds good?” Magnus narrowed his eyes. “Please just don’t say salad.”
Chapter Thirteen
Rather than go home and ponder whatthe fuck had just happened, Trey made a call to the one man he figured might be able to give him some clarity on his current situation.
“If you could spare an hour, I’d like to buy you lunch or a drink, your choice,” Trey offered when Gage Walker, Trey’s cousin Travis’s husband, answered the phone.
A soft chuckle sounded. “Why not both?”
“That’ll work, too. You think the fam can swing it without you for a bit?”
“I’m sure Travis’ll be fine. He’s at home with the munchkins today.”
“Just out of curiosity, have they ever wrapped him in Saran Wrap?”
“No. Why?”
“Just askin’. We did it to my dad when we were kids.”
“Jesus. Y’all got ol’ Frank down long enough?”
“There were seven of us. And it took every single one.”
“Did your mom help?”
“Maybe,” he drawled. “It still counts.”
Gruff laughter sounded through the phone. “I might have to mention it to Kate.”
“She can take him,” Trey told him.
“So, where do you wanna meet?”
“The diner works for me.”
“Cool. Give me half an hour, and I’ll meet you there.”
Trey disconnected the call and made the drive back to Coyote Ridge. He took his time, figuring he’d beat Gage by a few minutes. It would give him a chance to get a table and order a couple of beers.
The diner was busy, which wasn’t unusual for a Friday afternoon. People seemed to have the same idea Trey did, stopping in for a late lunch or an early dinner. Either way, there were only a few tables empty, but Trey requested a booth in the back. He informed the waitress he was expecting Gage any minute and ordered two beers.
When Gage arrived, he was waylaid by a couple of people who wanted to chat with him as he moved through the restaurant. Trey watched him, grinning as he did. That was one thing about small towns: if you didn’t see someone you knew when you went out, they were likely hunkered down because there was a storm, and you were the idiot out trying to buy batteries for your damn flashlight. Trey knew because he’d been that idiot. Twice.
