I eased her back into the booth, my intentions hyper focused on deepening the kiss, unable to stop myself from dragging my tongue over her bottom lip. She whimpered, and her hands gripped my shirt.
“Ahem.”
We both froze. I opened my eyes and cut them to whoever was dumb enough to interrupt my first kiss with her.
The waitress was cheesing down at me. Oh, great another Waitress Smiley. She let out a squeak and giggled. “Sorry to interrupt your, um, talk, but you are both so cute. Ah, young love. Are you ready to order?”
Ava was the color of peaches. This deep pink I found hilarious. Some of the color in her cheeks wasn’t from embarrassment, but most of it was, and the sight of her hiding her face with her menu was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen. I guffawed in a way I never had before.
Ava stared daggers at me. “What is wrong with you?”
I laughed harder.
I thought I was high on her sugar lips, but I’d never say that out loud. Plus, she looked really mad at me. Like murder me in my sleep mad. Which only made me laugh harder, until I fell over on my side and clutched my other from the stich.
“If you don’t shut up, we’re leaving before you can eat.”
I piped down. “All right. Relax.” A few chuckles escaped my lips and she looked determinedly at the waitress. I reached over and put my hand over her mouth. “Did she already order?” Waitress Smiley nodded, beaming. “I’ll get the shrimp platter with extra mashed potatoes. Can we have more bread, too? She’s a big eater.” I patted Ava’s cheek, grinning at the threat in her eyes.
The second the waitress left, Ava’s hand came flying for my chest. She smacked me. “What the heck, Bishop? You take my breath away—in a crowded restaurant, by the way—and then laugh your ass off after you embarrass me?”
“I took your breath away?”
“That isn’t the point.”
“It’s the point to me. Did I?”
“Yes!” she whisper-hissed, looking around at the other tables. Thankfully, everyone else was involved in their own food to care about us. “You know you did. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because I want to take your breath away again.”
Her lips popped open. Lips still tender and pink from mine. Desire was a strange emotion. It was consuming. It didn’t care if there were other things to focus on. It wanted to be seen and sated. I blinked, shook my head, and then nudged her with my shoulder.
“Sure beats the hell out of running away, doesn’t it?”
It was her turn to laugh. She rested her head on my shoulder and nodded against me. “As it was, I liked the sound of your laugh. Deep and new. Just don’t do it at me next time.”
I couldn’t promise her that, so I didn’t. “What were we talking about? Oh, right, my game.” All over again, I was reminded of the glittering light in her eyes, the sheen of genuine support in them that had made her irresistible. I tried my best to shove that in the back of my mind. “I’m happy you were there.”
“I promised I wouldn’t miss it. And after that game, I’ll never miss another. Thank you,” she told the waitress who’d just deposited our bread. When I tried to grab one, she smacked my hand away. “These are mine.”
“If you fill up on bread, you won’t eat your dinner. But I on the other hand will. So, hand it over or this fake marriage is done.”
She didn’t miss the jab that said I wasn’t happy she skipped out on home ec today. “Did you get our grade back yet?”
“We won’t until Monday. Miss Barter was pleased, though. It’s looking like an A.” That would help my percentage in her class a lot.
“I don’t want to talk about school. Let’s talk about how you learned how to skate like that? Aren’t you terrified of falling, or worse, cutting someone with your skates?” She shuddered. “I’m glad I never learned.”
“Whoa!” I stared at her incredulously. “You don’t know how to ice-skate?”
She shook her head. “I remember going when I was a little girl, but I fell on my butt five minutes in and refused to go back.”
“That’s not acceptable.”
She pushed the bread toward me. “Peace offering?”
I took it. “You want to go? You could meet me after work tomorrow and we could skate for free at the youth center.”
“Will I fall?”
“I won’t let you fall, Ava.”
“You could, though.”
“I won’t,” I insisted.
“Well, okay. That kind of sounds like fun.” She gave me a timid smile. “They have skates?”
“In all sizes.”
“Count me in.”
After that, we settled in, and Waitress Smiley dropped off our food. The smell of garlic and grilled meat made me drool. For the first time, Ava kept up with me. She must not have eaten all that much. The idea of her being hungry on top of being afraid, alone, and sad, made me sad, too. And still, she’d taken the time to make me a sandwich. When we were done, both our plates cleaned, I asked to see the dessert menu.
We polished off some chocolate cake together.
I was amazed and impressed that she’d kept up but too full to comment. She leaned back, patting her nonexistent belly.
“It’s crazy,” she muttered. “I had a terrible day and now tonight was so amazing. How do you always do that?”
“I think the fact that you have such low expectations of me helps me a lot.”
“Sure, Bishop. It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that you’re sweet and thoughtful.”
I grunted. “Definitely not. You ready to get out of here?”
“And go where? Don’t say home. Please.”
I lowered my voice, so as not to spook her. “We are going home, Ava. To your home. We’re going to put your things back the way they were and then we’re going to do the same thing to the rest of your house. You’re not running away. You’re going to stay put and you’re going to realize how strong you are, how sweet and sensitive and brave you are. Your father may have forgotten that, but I didn’t. And if you need help, any time, no matter what, you can call me. All right?”
Her eyes fluttered, on the verge of either crying or passing out. “I’m not strong. I panic, I cry, I run—that’s not being strong. You’re the strong one.”
I grabbed her around her waist and pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her and pressing my lips to her ear. “Are you kidding me? I’m not strong. I gave up years ago. I feel nothing all day and all night. I have no one in my life because I push them all away. That isn’t strong. You know what is?”
She rested her head against my chest. But her fingers trembled where they gripped my arm. “What?”
“Smiling even though you’re hurting inside is strong. Letting someone in even though the people you love are letting you down is strong. Showing your emotions is, too. You’re strong, Ava, you just haven’t realized it yet.”
Her head turned and she breathed heavily against my chest. “Bishop, stop.”
“Your bill, sir,” the waitress said, setting down the leather check presenter.
I nodded at her, ignoring her cheesy smile, and kept my focus on Ava. The strongest girl I ever knew. “Just tell me that you heard me, and I’ll stop.”
“I heard you.”
“Good.”
We drove back to the stadium parking lot, which was substantially emptier now. After she got in her car, she followed me back to her place. Right before we got there, it started to snow. I carried in every single thing she’d brought with her, while she stood in the living room in the space where her couch had been. I drug her stuff upstairs and then returned, finding that she hadn’t moved.
I closed her front door. “You talk to your mom at all?”
She shook her head, toeing the divot in the carpet from where the couch had been.
Exhaustion settled into me. I rubbed my eyes, my body coming down from the grueling game and mind coming down from the grueling emotions. I needed
to sleep before my shift at the youth center tomorrow.
So, of course, Ava came to life and said, “Want to watch a movie?”
“There’s nowhere to sit.”
“Not down here. In my room.” She headed toward the kitchen. “Popcorn?”
I rubbed my eyes again, imagining falling onto my uncomfortable twin bed in the attic of my foster parent’s place while I still had it. “Ava, I’m really tired.”
She stilled, back to me. And then really slowly, she turned to face me. I expected her to give me her wide, endearing eyes and pull my acquiescence from me. I was ready to fall for it. I didn’t want to drive home in the snow. But I also knew sleeping with her in her bed again probably wasn’t the best choice for her or for me, even if it felt like the right idea.
It was odd to deny myself what I wanted when what I wanted actually wanted me back.
But she didn’t do that. She nodded slowly. “Are we still ice-skating tomorrow?’
I deflated. Leave it to her to think clearly the one night I didn’t want her to. “Yeah… you’re okay with me leaving?”
She sighed, reaching for the zipper on her sweater. She pulled it down numbly. “No, but I’m too tired to guilt you into staying.”
I laughed, shocked by her honesty. “Do you want me to stay?”
Her eyes found mine. “I always want you to stay.”
Come on, Ava! “But you’re gonna let me leave?”
She headed for the stairs, looking over her shoulder at me. “It’s your choice tonight.”
I swallowed hard. But, figuring it was time to be honest with myself, I had to admit that every single time Ava convinced me to stay, I had wanted to. She knew it. I knew it. Maybe she no longer wanted to have to make the extra effort. Maybe she wanted me to be honest with myself. “I’m going to go get my bag.”
There was a smile in her voice as it came from the top of the stairs. “Could you make some popcorn on your way up?”
“Now you’re getting greedy,” I grumbled, jogging out to get my gear bag. I navigated her kitchen and made some popcorn, losing myself in the oscillating whir of the microwave only interrupted by the popcorn hitting against the bag. I emptied it into a bowl just as I heard a pair of keys jingle into the front lock.
I took the stairs three at a time and was inside Ava’s room before the front door even opened. “Your mom’s home,” I announced, the words cutting off in my throat as I took in the scene before me.
Ava was in the middle of pulling on her sweats. I didn’t see much of her body but the length of her thigh and a hint of her panties. Soft blue, barely there—crap. I looked away.
She finished pulling her sweats up in half a second and reached for a pair of socks she had on her bed, expression contrite, I thought because of her mother, and not because I’d just glimpsed her dressing. “Lock my door.”
I did. I was trapped. I’d locked myself in a cocoon of good and it was the first time all day I felt like I could be me.
Ava settled back on her bed and wiggled her hands at me. “Popcorn, please?”
I placed the bowl in her extended hands.
“And could you sit down? You’re blocking the television. Because you’re a giant man-boy, who’s gentler than anyone knows.”
I did what any emotionally confused ward of the state would do hearing a comment like that. I pretended I didn’t hear it. “You mind if I change into a pair of shorts?”
“No, go ahead.” Her eyes and remote were aimed on her TV.
I opened my gear bag and blinked against the sting in my eyes.
“What is that smell?” Ava demanded.
“My game and practice gear. I haven’t been able to get to a laundromat.”
“Oh man, it’s taking my breath away. It’s like a thousand skunks descended in my room and are throwing the stinkiest party.”
I smirked, holding up my shorts. One whiff, and I decided against wearing them. My sweaty clothes had ruined the entire bag, including my regular clothes.
“Don’t you have a washing machine at home?”
I decided against explaining that there was a washer and dryer, but it was on the side of my foster parent’s place and we weren’t allowed to use it. She’d just get all Ava about it. “No.”
“Hand it over.” She was beside me in seconds, one hand over her nose, the other held out in waiting.
“Ava, it’s all right. I’ll do it after work tomorrow.”
“No, it’s not all right. Give it to me.”
The idea of her washing my dirty underwear didn’t sit well for me. “How about you point me in the right direction?”
Sighing, she nodded. “Fine, but I’m coming with.” She opened her door, poked her head out, and then waved me on.
We made little noise going down the stairs. I could hear movement upstairs, and figured her mom was up there. Just as we touched the bottom step, it let out a cry, and Ava froze, making it so I ran into her back, knocking her off the step and into the wall. She started hopping around clutching her elbow, glaring at me between whisper-shouting “ouch, oh, ah.”
“Ava? Is that you?” Her mother called, the fragility in her tone bringing her daughter up short.
“Uh, yeah?” She gave me a face that said who else would it be?
“What are you doing?” Her voice got closer.
Ava shoved me back behind the wall. “Laundry!”
“Oh. Did you eat dinner?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I… uh… went out for dinner with Henny.”
“How is she?”
“Fine.”
“Oh good,” her mother said without much weight or meaning. She sounded airless. “Can you come up and talk to me when you’re done?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Ava reappeared. She grabbed my arm and led me over to a door off the kitchen. “The washer and dryer’s in the basement.” She flipped a switch on our way down.
The basement was half-finished. One half was carpeted and painted, and the other half was missing drywall and the floor was still cement. The laundry room was just off the open doorway from the stairs. There was a door directly across the space with a top bolt and bottom.
Once the washer had started, she leaned against the wall beside the sink and stared at me.
I stared back. Part of me understood why she’d lied to her mother about having dinner with me, but most of me was just sad that she had to. Sad her parents were destroying someone perfect for their own imperfections. “Whatever your mom tells you, just know that you’re strong enough to deal with it. And if you need help dealing, I’m here.”
The honey in her eyes liquidated, threatening to drip over like tears. “I’m really glad Miss Barter paired us together.”
I gave her a small smile. “Me, too, Avie.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ava
I’d left Bishop in the basement.
I stared at my mother’s barely ajar bedroom door, trying and failing to get used to calling it that. It used to be Mom and Dad’s room. Now it was just hers.
I took a deep breath and recalled the look on Bishop’s face when he told me I was strong. Perhaps I should believe it myself as much as he seemed to, but I was too empty these days to see it the way he did. If it was there at all…
“Mom?” I called out, pushing her door open the rest of the way.
She was sitting on her bed with a photo in her hand. It was small, and what I could see of it from where I stood barely stepping over the threshold was that it was in black and white.
“I was so happy the day I found out I was pregnant with you. I had your name picked out in less than a week.” She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. I was taken aback by how exhausted she looked. She turned the image of a sonogram toward me. “How incredibly ironic, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“I’m pregnant.”
My blood chilled. “You are? How?”
Her lips pursed. “They ne
ed better sex-ed at school.”
My eyes spun and I stepped further into the room. “I know how, mother, what I want to know is how it’s possible when you know, with what the doctor said.”
She shrugged, eyes on that image like it solved all her problems. “Miracles are that way.”
“Is it Dad’s?”
She nodded. “It’s Dad’s.”
“Does he know? Is that why he left?”
Her eyes met mine, and in them, I saw truths and answers, I just wasn’t sure exactly whose truths they were. “No, he left because he wanted to, and I didn’t stop him.”
“Why not?”
“I am not in love with your father anymore. He isn’t in love with me. I know that hurts you.” She could hardly get it out without crying. She wiped at her eyes and patted the space next to her for me to sit. “It hurts me, too. But I think it’s best him and I divorce. We’re going to go to counseling and start putting a new relationship together as co-parents.”
I sank down beside her and gripped the blanket beneath me. “How can you fall out of love?”
“Because we were never in love with each other. We were in love at first with the idea of love. I met him right out of college. Everything with him was so easy. I guess I was in love with the idea of loving him. And then we got pregnant with you and we both fell in love with you. We were never in love with each other, Ava, because we were too busy loving you.”
My stomach hurt. My heart, too. There were a lot of holes in her statement. She couldn’t come out and say the truth: she was wrong about him. He was wrong about her. They’d wasted almost twenty years of their lives getting it wrong. Because if they were wrong, then could I be that wrong someday, too? I put my head in my hands and stared at the floor. “What’s going to happen now?”
She sighed heavily and then she told the first true thing she’d said to me in months. “I don’t know.”
There were a few things that weren’t making sense. Like why Dad left me, too? Did he not love me anymore? Could that happen? Or why the house was a mess. Had they fought? Was my father angry she was pregnant now? My stomach knotted with painful possibilities of things never being the same again.
The Rarity of Falling Page 17
