I’d read up on the bylaws of the pension disbursement to children of deceased officers, and if the child was under the age of eighteen and still going to school, they could receive seventy-five percent of the father’s pension until they turned eighteen. Then, if they continued to go to school for continuing education, they could continue to receive the benefits up until the age of twenty-five.
“She missed the mark and they’re not even looking at her for benefits,” I continued.
My dad looked pissed.
“Let me handle that,” he said as he looked at the paperwork I’d handed him. “In the meantime, the money that we raised for her for college, we can give that to her.”
Originally that money had been promised as a college fund for Avery. But it seemed like it would help her out more right now than it would in a half a year.
With any luck, she’d be getting free college anyway with having such a low income as well as two deceased police officer parents. She could qualify for quite a few student grants, as well as federal grants.
She wouldn’t need the money raised for her then.
But now she did.
“I’ll talk to the board that’s handling all of that, too,” Dad said as he placed the papers down. “This isn’t how we treat our fallen officers’ kids. I’m gonna put a call into LPD to talk to their chief about what they can do from their end as well. We’re not gonna leave her behind.”
I nodded, feeling a huge weight lift off my chest at hearing his acceptance.
“I’m going to get her into the duplex next to Dax that Rowen used to rent,” I told him. “I already talked to Rowen. She’s down since she and Dax are already living together anyway. Dax was super down since he’d been trying to get her to move her shit anyway. Not sure what she was thinking, other than she liked all the extra room. But she has no reason not to move in now that she’s married. And she loves Avery. She has no problem giving it up to her.”
Dad sat back in the chair and rubbed his face.
“That kid just doesn’t have the best luck, does she?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“No,” I told him. “And I organized a moving party for next weekend. I’m going to go over this week and help her box her shit up. Half the SWAT team is going to be helping move her once we’re done.”
Dad grinned at that.
“Perfect,” he said. “Is there anything you need?”
I thought about that for a long few seconds before saying, “She went to the Cascades to rent an apartment.”
Dad stiffened.
“I think you may need to talk her into staying at the duplexes,” I continued.
Dad grinned at that.
“I’ll do that,” he said. “When she gets off of school.”
I nodded once.
“She has to be out of that house by the end of the month. I was able to convince Gordon to give her that time,” I continued. “But that’s still only a couple weeks away. It’s going to be tight, but I think that if she’s on board with the duplexes, everything will be better.”
He was nodding his head as there was a hesitant knock on my door.
I looked over at it, wondering who the fuck that could be so early in the morning, and looked back at my dad.
He shrugged as well and went to refill his coffee as I went to answer the door.
I would’ve expected a whole lot of things as I answered the door, but the woman on the other side of it was not it.
“Avery…” I said as I looked at her.
She looked exhausted.
She blew some hair out of her eyes with her mouth and looked down at the bundle of sheets and blankets that was in her arms.
“Can I come in?” she asked, looking around nervously.
I found myself stepping back and allowing her entry without a second thought.
Dax, who was on the front porch of his own duplex across the street, looked at me curiously.
I shrugged and closed the door, turning to find Avery standing just inside my entryway, looking as if she was going to go no further.
“I started going through my parents’ room yesterday,” she said, pausing when my dad entered from the kitchen. She didn’t stop her explanation, though. “I didn’t know who to bring these to.”
“These what?” I asked, rounding her side and moving until I could see her face.
She gestured to the bundle of blankets in her arms.
“These,” she said, walking closer to me.
When she held them out to me I instinctively took them, feeling rather quickly that they weren’t blankets.
“They have over a hundred guns between the two of them,” she said. “I just… I don’t know what to do with that many guns.”
I blinked at the bundle of guns in my arms.
“They were police officers,” she said. “I’m sure that’s why there were so many. But… my entire car is full of guns. And the back-hatch area is filled with so much ammo that the whole entire car groans each and every time I go over a bump.”
I looked over at my father with raised eyebrows.
“I kept one,” she said. “A shotgun. Since I have to be twenty-one to own the handguns. The rest I’m bringing to you.”
I blinked. “Why me?”
She was already out the door, though.
I put my burden down on the couch and walked outside, followed by my father.
And we looked at her car that looked like it was loaded down with enough weight that it would break at any second.
“Help me get this stuff out,” she ordered.
Dax, curious now, came strolling over from the other side of the street, looking into the car’s back window and whistling softly.
She paused in what she was doing—handing my father and me guns of all sizes—to reach into the front seat and hand him a jump drive.
“These are your wedding photos,” she said. “I was going to mail them after this, but since you’re standing here…”
Dax pocketed the photos and started to unload her trunk.
We made four trips before it was all inside my living room.
“What do you want me to do with them?” I questioned when I got a load of my walls that were lined with so many firearms that it didn’t leave an inch of free space.
“I was going to pawn them,” she said softly. “But again, the twenty-one thing to have a handgun thing comes into play. So… I’m donating them to you. You can have them all.”
I frowned. “I don’t want them all. Avery, this is a small fortune.”
She looked at the living room with a shrug.
“Then I don’t know what to do with them. I’m doing what I can,” she said. “Also, do you know anyone who can move a safe the size of a small car?”
I didn’t, but I’d find out.
“I do,” Dax said. “The Safe Place on Central will do it. I’ll go talk to them today.”
Avery’s shoulders slumped.
“Which brings me to my next question.” She hesitated. “Where do I put a safe? I can’t take it to the Cascades with me.”
I looked at my dad who nodded once.
He understood what I wanted him to do.
“Avery, can I talk to you for a minute outside?” he asked.
Avery didn’t waste time in leaving my house.
The moment she was gone, I looked over at Dax.
“Avery’s moving out of her house sooner rather than later,” I said.
Dax drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
“That girl can’t catch a break,” he murmured.
“You’re gonna have to get my sister out of that duplex faster than we intended,” I said. “Avery’s moving into it this weekend.”
“Done,” Dax said. “She only has a few things there anyway. Furniture she didn’t want to part with after just buying it. But since mine is still nicer, she didn’t move it. And her clothes are over the
re, but we can figure something out for all the clothes.”
I looked at my dad and Avery who were talking quietly on my front porch.
I could see them through the front window.
And Avery’s face was hard as my dad tried his best to convince her to do what he wanted.
Avery shook her head furiously at whatever my dad had just said.
Then he pointed across the street at what I was assuming was the duplex we wanted her to move in to.
She followed his gaze, and her shoulders slumped.
She was already shaking her head again when my father turned back to regard her.
“Looks like she’s going to say no,” Dax said.
I was getting the same feeling.
But then Avery pressed her hands over her eyes and her shoulders started to shake.
“Fuck, that hurts,” Dax said.
He had no idea.
Twenty minutes later, Avery was once again standing in my living room.
My dad was leaving to go talk to my sister with Dax, and I was left standing there wondering what to do or say to make her feel better.
“Give me a ride back to your place and we can load your dad’s truck up with shit. I’ll drive it over here and we’ll park it in the driveway over there,” I said.
Avery nodded woodenly, walking stiffly out the front door.
I managed to jam myself into her front passenger seat and felt like a mini-pretzel as I did.
My knees were up against the dash, and my shoulders were curved in to the point of almost pain.
“You look ridiculous,” she teased.
I rolled my eyes and didn’t bother replying.
“Getting going would be beneficial to my joints,” I told her.
She snorted and started the car.
It purred to life, and I was damn proud of myself for making it run better if I did say so myself.
“This thing runs so much better with that new battery,” she said.
I noted a hint of sarcasm in her voice, causing me to grin.
“Yeah, imagine that,” I said. “All it took was a battery.”
She rolled her eyes to look at me, then snorted.
“Thank you for whatever you did to my car,” she said softly. “I appreciate it.”
I squeezed her hand quickly before letting it go.
I also pretended like it didn’t burn me the moment our skin touched.
God, I wanted to touch so much more than her hand.
“You’re sure you’re not busy?” she asked as she turned out of the duplex road and headed toward her house.
We lived less than five minutes apart.
I ran past her house at least once a week during my long runs.
So the drive wasn’t too long, and we were pulling into her full driveway.
“I’m not,” I said. “I have to run by the hardware store at some point today, but today they have normal hours, so I won’t have to hurry.”
She nodded once and got out of the car.
I did, too.
My knees thanked me as I straightened up.
Avery led the way inside her house, stopping to hold the door open.
“There’s so much of their shit that I don’t even know what to do with,” she said. “I went into their room, intending to start there first, and started uncovering guns. So I started looking in all the hiding spots. Emptied the safe. And that’s what I’ve done all night long. I got about two hours of sleep.”
I looked around the bedroom she’d led me to.
Her parents’.
They had two beds in here.
“They slept in different beds?” I found myself asking.
She looked at the beds and nodded. “My dad thrashed in his sleep. He gave my mom a black eye once, so they decided to get separate beds. It worked for them, I guess. I always thought it was weird, too.”
I shook my head and walked to the dresser where her father’s duty belt sat.
I touched the tip of the handcuffs and said, “Do you want me to tackle this room? You can tackle another one?”
She looked at the room, then shrugged. “I need to go to the store and get boxes. That was my task for today. Take my dad’s truck out for boxes.”
I looked at her. “Then let’s do it.”
***
I wasn’t sure what it was, but I couldn’t go to sleep, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Avery.
We’d driven to the store in her dad’s truck.
Well, I had. She’d sat in the passenger seat, looking sick to her stomach.
When we’d come back out to the truck, she’d look determined, as if she was going to drive and there wasn’t anything that could talk her out of it.
So I’d handed her the keys.
She’d unlocked the door, gotten inside, started it up, and sat there for ten whole minutes while never once making a move.
From that moment, I made a decision.
I wasn’t going to say a word. I was going to sit there and stay quiet for as long as it took.
And it took an entire two hours for her to work up the courage.
By the time we arrived back at her house, it’d been three since we’d left, and I still had a few things that I needed to do before things closed up shop that day.
I’d intended to invite Avery along, but she’d looked so lost and confused that I didn’t.
Instead, I helped her bring all the boxes inside, ones that I’d bought against her protests, and pulled her in for a hard hug.
She hadn’t wrapped her hands around me, and that was for the best.
I was already holding on by a thread.
After leaving, I’d done my errands and had gone back by Avery’s place on my way home, but her little car had been absent from her driveway.
Then I’d gone home and spent the rest of the evening working out in my home gym. Dax had joined me, and we’d lost track of time talking about the SWAT calls that we’d had throughout the week.
It was only when he’d gone home that my thoughts had once again returned to Avery.
Even now, an hour and a half after going to bed, they were still on Avery.
What she was doing. Whether she’d packed her parents’ things. Whether she was even awake.
Pretty much, I forced myself to stay in my bed and not go out and find her.
And the next morning when the urge to go see her hit me, I fought that back, too.
Nothing good would come out of pursuing Avery Flynn.
Nothing.
Chapter 7
Sometimes I need you to flat out tell me that you like me. Because my anxiety flat out tells me that you don’t.
-Avery’s secret thoughts
Derek
I was able to fight myself for two whole days.
Two entire days of inner turmoil that only slowed to a dull roar when I pulled into Avery’s house two nights later, determined to get over this little infatuation I had with her and help her pack her things.
I was a little later than I’d intended because I’d had a safe delivered today. One that cost a whack and took up half of my guestroom.
But at least now I didn’t have guns lying over every square inch of my living room.
Pulling over to the curb in front of her house, I got out and locked the truck with the buttons inside and not the key fob. Which meant when Avery came barreling out of the house as if she had seen a ghost, heading straight for her car, she didn’t see me until she was nearly smacking right into my chest.
“Avery,” I said, holding her tight. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
Baby.
I hadn’t meant for that to come out, but the moment it did I wished I could take it back.
Avery was beyond hearing what I was saying, though.
She was thrashing to get out of my arms and crying now.
“Avery, honey. Stop,” I ordered, wrapping my arms around her tight. “Avery
, what’s wrong?”
She froze, her eyes opening wide, and stared into my eyes as if she was just now realizing whose arms she was in.
“What’s wrong?” I asked again now that I had her attention.
She swallowed hard.
“That day,” she said. “I’d fallen at school. Fucking Rachel, the girl who doesn’t have a nice bone in her body, had tripped me. I’d fallen and hit my head on the bleachers on the way out of the pep rally. It’d started bleeding, and I threw up my lunch all over Rachel’s shoes as she feigned sorrow for ‘accidentally tripping me.’”
I didn’t know where she was going with this, but now that she was talking, I wasn’t going to interrupt her or urge her to talk faster.
“It was Monday. August sixth. Three years ago.” She looked lost. “The school called my dad and my mom, but neither one of them answered. Neither one of them answered for a whole two hours. I wasn’t sure what was going on since they were both off that day, but I ended up driving myself to the hospital to get stitches. It wasn’t until an hour later when they were finishing up my forehead that my mom finally came in looking frazzled. My dad didn’t make it at all. He came in that night around eight looking happy and upbeat. Until he saw my forehead. My mother tore into him that night after I went to bed. About how ‘it was her day’ or whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean.”
She pressed her forehead against my chest.
“I found a receipt today,” she continued. “Actually, a lot of receipts. One bearing that date.”
She pulled away then, leading me back into the house.
“They all are for a place in Waco,” she continued. “They have my dad’s name on them, so I know that they’re his. Fancy restaurants. Jewelry stores. Gas station receipts that coincide with him driving down to Waco from here.”
The picture in question was of her father in all black with a girl in all white. They were pressed close, showing without words needing to be said that they obviously cared for each other.
“My parents never throw anything away,” she continued. “I have receipts from all the way back in the 1990s in their office that they shared. So I got to looking, and my mom has receipts of her own in her closet. And a picture of a man that I also saw at her funeral.”
Fries Before Guys Page 7
