Please Stay for Me (The Brotherhood Series)

by M. W. McKinley

  “That’s good, Avery. That’s really good.”

  After therapy, I walk to my car slowly, still recovering from the last sixty minutes of feelings —way too many feelings. When I’m safely in my car, I scroll through my contacts until I land on Dad’s name. The phone icon looks way too scary. I consider texting, but we’ve never texted each other.

  Instead, I call Meme. When she picks up, I blurt out, “Can I invite Dad to Thanksgiving?”

  She doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. What brought this on?”

  I drop my seat back and cover my face with my free hand. “I don’t know. I’m still not sure about it.”

  “Well, I’m fine with whatever you decide.” Her tone is hopeful, though.

  After we hang up, I open his email and hit reply. This definitely feels better than calling or texting. I can do this.

  Unlike Dad, I actually put something in the subject line, “Thanksgiving.” Maybe that would be enough? I can just hit send. But it will just make him call me. I want our first conversation to be in person. I don’t overthink it as I type out one quick question and hit send. There. I’m both relieved and anxious.

  As I close my email, I can’t help but think about the lyrics to “Another Chance” that made me so angry. “There’s always another chance to be an accepting daughter.” Could I really do that? Accept what we’ve both been through and forgive him. Could I give him another chance?

  Rob’s words flash through my mind as they have many times. Even if his dad didn’t deserve another chance, Rob did. I do.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Liam

  Two bloody miles to go. I lessen my grip on the steering wheel of my rental car. Today, I quickly learned I cannot drive on the wrong side of the road in the wrong side of a car on an overpacked interstate. My hand keeps reaching for the stick shift to change gears before remembering it’s an automatic. I thought renting a car would give me more control over my time instead of using Uber, but Atlanta traffic is clearly the one in control.

  When Avery's apartment complex comes into view, I let out the breath I've been holding for the past hour. After three almost accidents, I’m ready to get out of this car.

  The fact Avery has no idea I’m coming still doesn't sit well with me. I coordinated with Emily who coordinated with Trinity. It was too much coordinating for me. I prefer the direct route, but I took Emily's advice that it was better this way. At least I know she’s home. I want to make the most of our time together; assuming she’ll spend time with me in the first place.

  After I make my way up the steps to her second-floor flat, I take in a lungful of air before knocking. Even though I spent the flight over thinking about what I would say, when she opens the door, I just stand there.

  Avery also just stands there. It's not that I didn't know how much I missed her, because I’ve been aware of it daily. Hourly, even. But with her only an arm's length away, it feels as if I can breathe easier for the first time since she left.

  Our eyes stay on each other. I couldn't tell you what she was wearing or the details of her flat beyond the open door. A meteor shower could be coming down around me, and I wouldn't have noticed.

  "How . . . how are you here?" Her shocked expression morphs into confusion.

  "I have a layover on my way to New York."

  "New York?"

  I continue drinking in her features after three months apart. Her wavy brown hair is a tad shorter, but her striking gray eyes are just as bewitching. Then, I realize she’s waiting on a response. "I have an audition for Juilliard tomorrow."

  Her brows knit together. "You worked things out with the band?"

  "Do you want to go get coffee or something?" I ask not wanting to go into detail on her doorstep.

  She seems to realize this as well. "Sorry, come in."

  When I step inside, I finally take my eyes off her and get my first look at her flat. It reminds me of her dorm room in Oxford with the walls covered in various photographs. There’s a gray sofa against the back wall. Above it, is a panoramic photograph taken from the top of Helvellyn Peak. I remember how much she wanted to hold on to that moment, and I wonder if the photograph makes her think of me at all.

  A girl emerges from one of the closed doors. I immediately recognize her from Avery's pictures. "What a surprise!" Trinity says, obviously not surprised at all.

  Avery gives her a look. "You could have just told me."

  Trinity shakes her head. "You're too much of a flight risk." Then she turns to me and holds out her hand. "Nice to finally meet you."

  I shake her hand. "You, too."

  Avery starts walking towards the other closed door. "I just need shoes." She turns back towards me. "You can come with me."

  I guess I thought she would be more upset about my surprise visit, but she seems okay. She seems too okay. Maybe she’s just putting on a happy face, which is the last thing I want.

  "Sorry about surprising you this way. Emily talked me into it." I shake my head. "Not that I'm blaming her or anything . . ." I’m botching this up.

  Avery touches my arm, obviously unintentionally, since she snatches her hand away as if she'd been burned. As usual, the brief contact just makes me want more.

  "It's fine. Emily's a force of nature. Besides, in complete honesty, I'd be hurt if you were in my city and didn't try to visit." Her expression slips into sadness for just a moment. That’s how she’s really feeling, sad, just like me.

  "Well, if I'm being completely honest, I planned this layover on purpose—just to see you."

  Other than a nervous smile, her expression is unreadable, as if she’s really trying to hide her reaction. "Let me just find some shoes."

  While she searches in her closet, I take the chance to look around her room. A standard-sized bed is pushed against one wall. The kilt Emily gave her is spread out towards the bottom. Instead of a headboard, there are four strings of yarn strung along the wall with different sized pictures secured by clothespins. Her desk is against the opposite wall and it’s covered in notebooks, loose-leaf papers, more photographs, and her laptop. I can’t help but smile when I notice the gingerbread tin has been repurposed as a penholder.

  She sits down on her bed and drops her shoes on the carpet. "I promise I'm not trying to be awkward on purpose. I just have no idea how to act around you now."

  I sit down next to her and take her closest hand. "Just be however you want to be."

  She looks at our joined hands but doesn't pull away. "I wish it was that easy."

  I turn more towards her. "The distance is the problem, right? Well, I'm here now."

  Avery meets my gaze. "But only for a little while. Then, you'll be gone, and I'll miss you again. I'm so tired of missing people."

  I pull her into my arms, no doubt making things worse, but I can't help it. She’s sad. I’m sad. I just want to bring us both some comfort. "I miss you, too. Constantly."

  Her voice is muffled in my shoulder, but I still hear her say, "Then why are we doing this to ourselves?"

  I lean back enough to see her face. "Because I can't make myself feel any differently about you."

  "Yeah, I know." She disentangles herself and then slips on her shoes. "Let's go get coffee."

  Already missing her touch, I nod. "Do you mind driving, though?"

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Avery

  Liam is here. In my city. In my apartment. In my bedroom.

  Now he’s sitting in the passenger seat of my car as if it’s completely normal. I keep looking over at him to make sure he’s still here. Every time, I’m met with the warm smile that crinkles the corner of his eyes.

  "The fact you can look at me and still stay on the road is making me feel even worse about my driving abilities," he teases.

  "If you remember, I never once drove in Oxford." The fact he made the effort to rent a car and drive an hour to my apartment while probably feeling completely overwhelmed in traffic is making me feel completely overwhelmed. I reach over
to hold his hand.

  "You're just rubbing it in now." He lifts our joined hands to his lips and kisses the back of mine.

  My mind wants to push him away so it won’t hurt as bad when he leaves, but my body is screaming at me to soak up every second of our time together. It’s not unusual for my mind and body to be at war when it comes to Liam, though.

  "Split Bean?" Liam asks as we pull up to my favorite coffee shop. "They do know you grind coffee beans, right?"

  I laugh. "Pretty sure Grindr is already taken."

  Liam opens the front door of the coffee shop and motions for me to go first. "Fair point. I've deleted it off Lei's phone more times than I can count."

  "How is everyone?" I ask as we get in line behind several other customers. The inside has the same feel as an old-fashioned diner. Retro vinyl booths with tables are set against the storefront window. On the other side, a long counter with glass cases for pastries serves as the place to order.

  Liam puts his arm around my shoulder making it clear to everyone we’re together; even though we aren’t. But I try to ignore that thought and just enjoy the moment. "Everyone is . . . complicated,” he replies.

  We order and then find a table in the back corner. "You were saying it's complicated?" I ask.

  He leans back against the booth but intertwines his legs with mine under the table. "The same time I was working on my application for Juilliard, a record label reached out to Eric about Brotherhood. They saw us at a music festival."

  "Wow, that’s incredible.”

  His brows knit together. "I’m not sure."

  I’m distracted when coffees and pastries are delivered to our table. "Why not?"

  “We met with them last week. They suggested a lot of changes in order for them to sign us.”

  I take a sip of my iced caramel macchiato. “What kind of changes? I think you guys are fine the way you are.”

  He shrugs. “They just kept talking about what other bands on their label were doing, and we could look to them for examples of how to improve. I’m not against improving, but we don’t want to sound like anyone else.”

  “Well, that label is crazy if they want to change Brotherhood. The first time I heard you all play together, it was magic on stage. You know?”

  He rubs his foot against mine. “I don’t know what it’s like in the audience, but performing with them feels that same way. I don’t want to lose that.”

  "Speaking of which, when you go to Juilliard, what happens with the band?" I bet Eric is furious.

  " If I go to Juilliard, Rob and Lei actually talked about moving there, too."

  The sound of coffee grinding makes me wonder if I heard him correctly. "Seriously? Like transferring schools and everything?" I knew Rob and Liam were that close, but I’m surprised to hear Lei would move as well.

  "I know, but they haven't thought it through. The trouble of getting into a school, dealing with immigration, and moving to another country. Besides, it's my dream, not theirs."

  "They care about you," I say.

  He picks at his croissant. "It will be my fault if the band splits."

  I put my hand over his, partly for comfort and partly to stop him from murdering a perfectly good pastry. "Say that it does. What are you really worried about if Juilliard is your dream?"

  His vulnerable gaze meets mine. "That I'll lose them. I've had a lot of brothers over the years in foster care. Brothers who ignored me. Brothers who hurt me. Brothers that I would start to care about the moment I was moved to another home. But I chose Rob and Lei."

  "You said it yourself, Rob and Lei are willing to move to another country because they know how much the violin means to you. They won't stop being your friends if the band doesn't work out."

  “I’m trying not to worry about it until I find out if Juilliard accepts me. I have to get through this audition first. I just want them to see how much I love to play.”

  “I see it every time you play the violin, so I’m sure they will.”

  “Thanks.” His smile is warm.

  Liam’s phone lights up on the table, and he briefly checks it. “Just an update on my flight. Ten minutes behind schedule.” He looks at me. “Plenty of time.”

  I trace the condensation on my cup. “I started therapy.”

  He freezes. “Really? Since when?”

  “About two months ago.”

  “How’s it going?”

  I shrug. “I like my therapist. She’s . . . really patient with me. I guess I thought it would feel pushy or invasive, but she’s not like that at all.”

  He nods. “That’s great. Did you tell her about your dad’s email?”

  “Yeah, I wrote him back.”

  He looks as if he wants to jump across the table and pick me up in celebration.

  “I almost called you,” I add.

  His expression softens. “I wish you would have.”

  “Well, now you know.”

  “Any response?”

  I shake my head slowly. “Not yet.”

  “He will.” Liam stretches and tries to cover a yawn. “Sorry, the plane ride was bloody awful. I’m not looking forward to getting back on.”

  “How long is your layover?”

  He checks his phone again. “I need to head back to the airport in two hours.”

  “Let’s go back to my apartment. You can get horizontal.”

  His smile is playful. “Only if you get horizontal with me.”

  I pick up a piece of his picked apart croissant and throw it at him. “Couldn’t let it slide, huh? What I meant is you can stretch out.”

  “Sounds brilliant. Let’s go.”

  We clean up our mess, well, Liam’s mess, and then head outside.

  I hold up my car keys. “I can give you a quick driving lesson.”

  He laughs. “I care about your life too much.”

  My apartment is quiet when we get back. Trinity usually has class around this time. I linger at my bedroom door. “Can I say something that may ruin this right now?” I gesture in between us. We’ve both been acting as if the last day in Oxford never happened.

  “You really don’t have to,” he says. “I know nothing’s changed. There will still be distance between us when I leave.”

  I’m sure my expression is apologetic as I nod in agreement.

  Liam kicks off his shoes and basically falls into my mattress with an exaggerated sigh. He opens his arms. “Just lie down with me?”

  This is going to hurt so much when he leaves. I take off my shoes and join him.

  As Liam wraps an arm around me, I rest my cheek on his shoulder and watch as he sets an alarm on his phone. I notice his background is a photo of our standing in front of Eddie’s pub . He holds me tightly, and just like on Helvellyn Peak, I try to soak up the feeling of his arms surrounding me. I fight sleep, but the brush of his calloused fingers against my arm causes me to slowly drift off.

  It seems as if only seconds pass when his alarm sounds. Both sleep-rumpled and sad, we linger at my front door.

  He brushes hair off my cheek. “I guess I can’t ask you to stay this time.”

  I manage a weak smile.

  “I want things to be so different,” he says before leaning in to kiss my cheek, still not breaking the invisible barrier I’ve created. Just like before, something less than lovers but more than friends. He rests his forehead against mine. “I love you, Avery.”

  Since I can’t give him words in return, I break all my rules and kiss him.

  He doesn’t hesitate as his arms tighten around me and his lips move against mine.

  When we finally break apart, I say, “Good luck, tomorrow.” It’s lame compared to his confession, but it’s all I can get out at the moment.

  “Can I let you know how it goes?” His tone is hopeful.

  I hesitate, not wanting to confuse things between us even more, or not wanting to start something that will slowly taper off into more hurt feelings.

  Liam knows me so well, though. “W
ell, Emily always keeps tabs on me.”

  I give him a grateful look as I open the door.

  Our hands stay connected until the very last second. “Bye, Avery.”

  I let go first. “Bye, Liam.”

  I watch from the kitchen window as he gets in his rental car. As he drives away, the ache in my chest I’d been avoiding comes to life full force. My tears begin to fall fast as I jog to my bedroom and close the door.

  Chapter Thirty

  Liam

  When my name is called, I walk into the audition room which appears to be a cleared-out classroom. I count seven people sitting at three tables in the front of the room. I recognize most of them from the music department’s faculty page on Juilliard’s website. Even though I want to impress everyone, there’s one judge in particular I want to convince to be my teacher. I stare at him a moment longer than the rest. Andre Merrill.

  As I walk to the center of the room and stand in front of them, I try not to think about how many students have come before me and how brilliant they probably played. I can only be myself. I put down my empty violin case and then stand directly on the taped mark on the floor with my violin and bow in hand.

  “Mr. Brooks?” The director of the music department asks as he looks down at the paper in front of him. “From Oxford University?”

  “Yes, sir.” My tone comes out steady. I’ve trained for this moment, and I know I’m ready.

  The sound of his pen moving on paper fills the quiet room before he looks back up. “You may begin.”

  The audition pieces are already selected by Juilliard allowing some choices on the student’s part. I tried not to stress too much on the pieces or movements I picked. I thought it would be better to pick pieces that showed my personality versus the more technically challenging ones.

  I start with the m ajor scales, minor scales, and arpeggios in three octaves. Then I move on to an etude from Jakob Dont's Op. 35. Next, they asked for a slow and fast movement from a substantial Romantic or contemporary concerto. I play a sonata by American composer Amy Beach. I end the audition with a movement from Bach’s E major concerto.