Touch & Go

by Mira Lyn Kelly

  The band was suddenly sounding more like noise than music to Sam, and he rubbed at the back of his neck.

  “So it’s over, though?”

  The look in Mitch’s eyes said this wasn’t idle curiosity.

  “How long you in town for again, Mitch?” he asked, the dull buzz from those beers burning off as he locked in on the guy.

  “Couple more days.”

  So what did he care whether it was over or not with Ava? He knew she’d be gone longer than he’d be around.

  Mitch drained the last of his beer and set the empty on the worn bar with a thud. “This trip, anyway.”

  Okay, and that had Sam’s attention. “You’re planning another?”

  A shrug. “Things are kind of up in the air for me right now. I’ve got a couple of options with the employment thing—but truth is, I’ve been looking for a change for a while now. It’s been good being around my brother again, and hell, I don’t know. Chicago’s got some appeal.”

  Because of Ava.

  “Is she into you?” Sam asked, feeling like a total chick but needing to hear Mitch’s take on it, anyway.

  The guy cocked his head. “Pretty sure she’s into you. But if it’s really over, then who knows?”

  Sam drained his beer and flagged the bartender for another round.

  Chapter 30

  “Cripes, Ford, it’s Skype. I can see you taking notes for your game while I’m talking.”

  Her brother glanced back at the camera, his dark brown eyes as close to making contact with hers as was possible from two thousand miles away. “I’m paying attention, Ave. Just had an idea I needed to get down. What do you think is worse, molten lava or acid?”

  “Lava. But seriously, Ford, I miss you guys. Throw a girl a bone. What did you do last night?”

  There was some quiet muttering as Ford again started with the note scribbling. When she wanted dish, he was the wrong guy to call, period. But with Maggie and Ty not getting back until tomorrow, her choices were limited. And she didn’t want to call Sam.

  Know about him? Yeah, definitely. She wanted to know how he looked, how he seemed, and whether he was back in the saddle, so to speak, when it came to Chicagoland’s female population.

  Tony wasn’t an option, though chances were good the guy would know. He had a freakishly sharp mind when it came to keeping track of hookups and even potential hookups for any of them.

  But one question about Sam and he’d be connecting the dots faster than Sam could unhook a bra with his teeth. Not part of the plan.

  So she’d called her brother…only to find that he was in the zone. Which meant she might sit there for the next ten minutes before he realized she was still staring at him through his phone. And in ten minutes she needed to be back in Drew’s office.

  Tapping the screen with a short nail that needed some serious maintenance now that she looked at it, she cooed a singsong, “Yooo-hooo, earth to Ford? Come in, Ford.” When he held up a single staying finger she crossed her arms. “Ford!”

  “Right, sorry, Ave. Okay. Yeah, I’m good now,” he promised, even as his eyes drifted once more offscreen. But then it seemed he really was good because he picked up his phone and the background spun around him as he walked through his apartment to the front step and sat down. “See? I’m here.”

  She smiled and relaxed back into her own chair, retrieving her phone from where she’d propped it against her sweating soda. It was as close to a snuggle as she was going to get. “I miss you.”

  He grinned, giving her some of that lopsided little-boy look he’d never quite lost. “You too. It’s quiet around here.”

  “Maggie and Ty are back tomorrow. That’ll liven things up.”

  “Some. But she’s not quite the relentless plans coordinator you are. And they’re fresh off the honeymoon. It’d be weird to ask them to do too much.”

  Her brother had crazy ideas about privacy. If Maggie had taken her phone with her on the honeymoon, Ava would have been ringing her up morning, noon, and night. Which, okay, was maybe why Maggie hadn’t taken her phone.

  But whatever.

  She had Ford’s focus right then, and God only knew how long it would last, so she wanted to make the most of it.

  “So with just you and Sam left on the block, what have you guys been getting up to? Has he installed a grotto between the two bachelors’ buildings?”

  She sounded like such a tool; she knew she did. But the not knowing was clawing at her heart and twisting up her belly so she could barely sleep. They’d agreed to start dating before she got back in town, and while a part of her believed it would be easier for her to let go and move on once she knew Sam had had another woman in his bed, another, more reality-based part of her was dying inside at the thought.

  But no matter how she felt about it, it was going to happen, and she figured the “fast, like a bandage” approach would mean a certain sharp sting, but then it would be over.

  She needed it to be over, and news flash, the distance alone thing? Not exactly coming through the way she’d hoped.

  Ford laughed, shaking his head. “No grotto. But we did hit Fatpour for a burger and beer while we watched the game the other night. Other than that, like I said, it’s been pretty quiet around here.”

  Going for a casual tone, she angled to get closer to what she wanted to know. “Burgers, beers, and babes?”

  “Nah. Not that I know of, anyway. I called it a night before Sam, though, so maybe.”

  Maybe.

  She smiled tightly, suddenly wishing Ford were back at his desk, distracted by whatever game he was cooking up in his head. Because now, he was just looking at her, seeing a smile tighter than it should be and wondering what it meant.

  “You okay, Ava?” he asked, a furrow digging between his brows. “I guess I didn’t really think about it before, about Maggie getting married, and that pact you girls made to open yourselves up to the possibilities all starting because you were ready to find someone.”

  Ava stared at the phone a moment, not quite sure how to respond.

  Yes, the pact had been her idea. Two years ago, she’d known drastic measures were in order if she was going to get past Sam. If she was going to have the kind of life that included a family. A husband, kids, a dog. Waking up to the sounds of spoons scraping through cereal bowls and Saturday morning cartoons, and tiny bodies dive-bombing her in bed.

  She sighed.

  “That pact, Ford, it worked out for Maggie, so I’m glad we did it. But I’m not sure two years ago I was really ready to be open to the possibilities at all. I thought I was, but when I look back I see things differently. I wasn’t open-minded. I was just hoping I could be.”

  Ford nodded, looking across to what she was pretty sure was Wicker Park. His eyes crinkled at the edges, giving her the impression he was seeing something beyond the park across from him.

  “Believe it or not, I get it. I do. Sometimes we’re just not ready, even if we want to be.”

  Arching a brow, Ava leaned closer. “Is this the voice of experience speaking, big brother?”

  Ford had had his fair share of girlfriends over the years, and being the kind of caring, quality little sister that she was, she’d done her best to keep track of them. But to her recollection, none of those girls really stood out as being important or enduring. But then Ford was two years older, and there were gaps in the years when keeping tabs wouldn’t have been as convenient as she liked. When he started high school, and again when he moved on to college, and then before she graduated and moved into the building next door to him. Add to that Ford being a pretty private guy and she figured yeah, there was probably quite a bit she’d missed.

  “Ehh, knock it off. I’m just saying I understand how it is seeing things differently as you get older.”

  “Listen to who sounds like Dad,” Ava said with a quiet laugh, then added, “You know you look more like him every year.”

  Ford pulled a face and then made another one that was his obvious go
at mature and respectable. She didn’t tell him, but it was during the quiet times, when he was deep in thought, that she saw the resemblance the most.

  “Yep,” she agreed. “That’s him. Totally.”

  “Could do worse.”

  Such an understatement. In Ava’s eyes it would be hard to do better.

  Her dad had been her hero. Honest and strong, he’d been a man who knew what his priorities were and she imagined if he’d had time to contemplate his life before he’d died, his regrets would have been few.

  Her phone pinged with a message from Drew’s assistant, notifying her they were ready in Conference Room Two.

  “Geez, look at me getting all misty over here while I’m missing my meeting. I’ve gotta bolt. But thanks, Ford. I needed this today.”

  Ending the call, she packed up lunch and grabbed her laptop.

  It was true, she had needed that. For as distracted and disconnected as Ford could be, there were times when the guy totally came through.

  So she wasn’t any closer to knowing whether Sam had moved on or not. If she were actually ready to know, maybe she’d have called him herself and asked.

  —

  It hadn’t really occurred to Sam until Ava left for this trip how completely suck his apartment was compared to hers. Which was ironic considering the average visitor’s reactions to his place—and granted, this had generally been females breezing through on their way back to his bedroom—versus hers. His guests responded to the clean lines and open space with appreciation, while those visiting Ava tended to take a quick step back before daring to venture in.

  She loved stuff. And though her place was actually clean, it felt cluttered.

  But it also felt cozy. And homey. And warm and comfortable.

  Her couch was the kind he could totally sink into. The cushions just right for watching movie marathons. The brightly colored end tables were both functional and fun. The coffee table was the same one they’d been kicking their feet up on since they were kids.

  He felt at home in Ava’s place.

  Not so much at his own.

  Which was weird, he knew, but hell, it was just the way of it.

  His place served its purpose.

  While he spent the bulk of his time at Ava’s, watching movies and hanging out half the night, until recently, he’d never crashed there. It was just one of those lines they hadn’t crossed.

  So he needed his own bed. A place to retreat to when it was time to be alone. Or when he had company or for whatever reason her place wasn’t a viable option.

  But as to how the space felt to him? Well, taking it in as he stood in his doorway with a steaming pizza from Lou Malnati’s, he realized he never sat in his living room. And his kitchen, while immaculate, was more utilitarian than inviting.

  Finally he carried the box back to his bedroom and did what he did most nights after coming back from Ava’s—he fired up the flat screen and hopped into bed with the box on his lap. And he started flipping until something stuck.

  Stuffing a big bite in his mouth, he chewed, watching someone talk about the trials of storing all those plastic food containers and never being able to find the right lid. Yeah, that’s about what Ava’s drawer looked like upstairs. Drove him nuts when he wanted to put something away and it turned out he’d scored the single container without a lid.

  Putting the pizza down, he picked up his phone and dialed the number on the screen.

  She was going to love this stuff when she got back.

  Halfway through dialing, a message popped up. The pizza turned to dust in his mouth as Sam stared at the screen.

  Ava:… Date accomplished. We’re officially back to just friends from my end. How about yours?

  Shoving the box across his bed, Sam tried to control his breathing. The sick churn in his gut and thundering rush of blood pounding past his ears.

  She’d gone out with another guy. Smiled for him. Laughed for him. Jesus, maybe she’d even let him kiss her or—

  Fuck. He couldn’t think about it.

  Looking at the phone again he reread the message, concentrating on the part about being officially just friends again and the fact that Ava thought that’s what it would take for them to get right.

  Thumbs moving over the screen, he typed his reply.

  Sam:… Soon.

  Chapter 31

  The time and distance thing wasn’t working. Four weeks Ava had been in San Diego already, and if anything, she was in worse shape than when she arrived. Her heart hurt all the time. And despite having tried to pick up every spare bit of work there was, she still found herself with enough unoccupied moments throughout the day for her thoughts to wander across the miles, back to Wicker Park and the friend she couldn’t stop wishing was more.

  She tried to keep contact to a minimum. A couple of texts and a few cheesy snaps: the beach in the morning; the fish tacos she’d had one lunch; and an apple with a bruise she swore made it look like the thing was laughing at her. Sam called a handful of times over the first two weeks, but whether she was available or not Ava had let the calls go to voicemail. Then after listening to his message, finding herself caught up in the sound of his voice and the pause between words when she could hear his breathing, she put her phone away and made herself wait to call back.

  It nearly killed her, because all she wanted was to talk with him. To hear the low rumble of his laugh and feel that connection that always ran between them. But distance meant not dropping everything the instant he called, not falling into the kind of rhythm so easy between them that it didn’t allow for anyone else to get close. She’d promised Sam nothing would change, but more and more, she realized she couldn’t go back to how it had been between them. That if she was serious about having a real life of her own, a family like the one she’d grown up in, and the love that was complete and mutual and hers, truly hers…she might not be able to go back at all.

  Or at least not until she found her own way to a heart capable of loving someone else.

  A knock sounded at the conference room door where she’d camped out.

  She looked up to find Drew Mitchel leaning into the room, amusement evident in his eyes as he surveyed the boxes of files littering the floor around her and the tabletop covered from end to end.

  “That’s some system you’ve got,” he said, stopping at the far end of the table to leaf through a stack of documents before letting out a low whistle of approval. “You need more help in here?”

  Ava closed her laptop and, sitting back, crossed her legs. “I thought I was supposed to be helping you. But somehow, I’ve already got three assistants assigned to me. One of them yours.”

  Drew set the documents back where he’d gotten them, straightening the pile into a neat line the way she’d had it before he came in. Then, walking over to the sole window that served as a wall separating her from the hallway, he knocked on the glass. “We at least ought to get you into one of the conference rooms that boasts an outside view. With the hours you’re putting in, I’m pretty sure it’ll be your only shot at getting a taste of the California sun we keep trying to sell you on.” Then, checking his watch, he shook his head. “Or better yet, it’s got to still be lunchtime somewhere. Let’s get out of here.”

  Ava narrowed her eyes. “You’re looking a little shady, Mitchel. I’m not buying this whole casual drop-in, let’s-grab-a-bite business. What gives?”

  Drew laughed, offering a single shoulder shrug, confirming her suspicions.

  “I want to know what it’s going to take to get you to stay.” He crossed behind her to where her messenger bag was tucked in the corner. Picking it up, he slung it over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t be back here if you weren’t thinking about it. So cards on the table, I say scrap lunch and we grab drinks and dinner instead. Talk it over and make it work.”

  Her first instinct was to deny it. Tell him he was wrong. That she hadn’t come back there with the intention to stay—but a part of her wondered if even that much was true.
If on some level she’d known she was considering more than a few weeks from the start and like so many other things, just hadn’t been ready to accept it herself.

  Sliding her laptop into its case, she shot Drew a sidelong glance. “I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

  His grin was smug and sure. “Of course not. This is just talk.”

  —

  “You know I don’t wake up this early,” Maggie announced by way of greeting, her head still half buried in her pillow, her blond hair a ratty mess.

  Ava fluffed her own pillow and leaned back against the headboard, phone propped against her knees. “With the time difference, I figured if I was up, you had to be up. And if you weren’t, you were sleeping your day away when you ought to be enjoying what The Weather Channel claims is sunshine, seventy-three-degree temps, and a gentle breeze blowing about three miles per hour. It’s nice out. Get up.”

  Maggie’s single visible eye crumpled into a scowl. “If it’s so nice, maybe you ought to come back. Seriously, how long are they going to hold you prisoner there? I’m sick of this.”

  Clutching her hands beneath her chin, Ava blinked back tears. “You sweet talker, you. Get up. Take me to the coffee shop. I want donuts. You can show me the counter. Get up. Get up.”

  Maggie let out a grunt, burrowing deeper into the bed, leaving most of Ava’s screen covered by puffs of her white duvet. “I’m not taking you out for donuts when you can’t even eat one.”

  Disappointment sat like a weight on her chest. “I want the kind with the glaze that’s all dense and crumbly, not just the regular donut.”

  “Get Sam to take you.”

  Ava slumped lower in her bed, and Maggie raised her head. “Or has he got company again?”

  Suddenly Ava wasn’t interested in the donuts she wouldn’t actually be able to eat, anyway. “Been keeping busy lately?”

  He’d gone on his date. She knew because he texted her the night after she’d texted him with what hadn’t been a total lie. Gretchen had said specifically, “It’s a date,” when they’d made plans to grab dinner after work. Sam hadn’t bothered to ask, so she hadn’t felt compelled to clarify that Gretchen was one of the sixty-five-year-old partners who’d been trying to recruit her for two years.