“I swear— your world revolves around your dick.” Breck rolls her eyes and we laugh.
“Not true baby. My world revolves around you— and my dick. Preferably joined.” She hits him again and we settle down.
“I’m serious. Avery.” I whisper. We’re all sober and I take in their faces. “What aren’t y’all telling me?”
Silence. Until Lee Lee. “It’s bad. Don’t blame yourself, you didn’t ask for this. But she’s gone. I don’t see my girl when I look at her. Her voice is dead. She isn’t painting.”
“Relax. We’ll fix it. She loves you.” Breck tries to salvage the remnants of my heart. “I agree with Lee Lee but she just needs you. Your love can fix her.”
“How could I forget her? Us?” I buzz for the millionth time in the past hour.
“Don’t.” Mason warns. “We have some news and we can configure a plan to work seamless in that time.” He grins and kisses Brecklynn. “We’ll need her parents help.”
“Done.” Saylor answers. “But I may have to take a silent part in this. She’s really mad at me.”
Deacon whirls to look at her. “What?”
“I don’t think she is gonna like the last care package I sent her.” Shortstop bites her lip and averts her gaze.
“Oh, fuck. This should be good.” Emberlee doubts Saylor’s ability to upset Avery. Truth be told, so do I.
“It may have contained a few dozen packs of Nicorette gum, some vape thing that doesn’t have tobacco. And every pamphlet and study I could find that mentioned smoking and what it does to your body.” Brecklynn is shaking in laughter while Saylor looks like she’s going to burst into tears. Something Deacon will flip his shit over.
“She’s smoking?” I question.
“Oh shit.” Mason grumbles.
“She’s fucking smoking?” My voice grows in decibels.
“Yeah.” Emberlee quips. “It’s a phase. She’ll stop.”
“She’s fucking smoking! What the fuck?” I bellow.
“Repeating yourself like you’re Rosetta Stone and shouting fuck as a sentence enhancer isn’t going to change the fact she’s lit up. It’s Lukas’ fault.” Brecklynn chastises me.
“Who the fuck is Lukas?” This gets better and better.
“Oh fuck.” Deacon groans.
“Chill.” Emberlee interrupts. “This is snowballing. Let me handle it.”
“Yeah, because that is your strong suit.” Brecklynn giggles.
Emberlee flips her off and faces me. “Lukas, her roommate, smokes.” She puts her hand over my mouth as it opens. “Shut it. Lukas also has a gorgeous fucking girlfriend, with a rocking body and sexy accent. Avery has become friends with her— but most importantly— she fucking loves you so she wouldn’t, couldn’t go there. Want the rest, Neanderthal?” She cocks her head to the side in her saucy attitude. Brody enters and takes in the scene.
“Just say yes. It’s easier.” He removes her hand from my mouth so I can answer.
“Yes. Tell me the rest.” I can’t imagine how much better this gets.
“She isn’t painting. Sketching. Nothing. She is, however, smoking cigarettes. No wacky weed.” Emberlee pauses. “Yet.” I narrow my eyes. “Kidding, Caveman. You know Aves. Her painting is her therapy. She’s afraid to unlock that right now.”
My head droops, chin hitting my chest. “Fuck.”
“Y’all need to watch your mouth. Julie is gonna own Starbucks.” Mason admonishes us. Cuz he has room to talk. “So, listen up, fuckers. We have three weeks to pull this off. First step, Breck and I are getting married in four weeks. I have a small break for shoulder rehab before the season is over. Some shit in my contract for the first two years.” Everyone is happy and talks over each other. “Shut it. Thanks. We know y’all are happy for us.”
“Is my sister pregnant?” Brody thunders.
“Nah. I told y’all how to fix that. I’m a problem solver.” He chortles.
“Mason Adler, if you’re alluding to anal and including my sister— I’ll end you.” Brody steps forward like he can punch him through the laptop.
“I wasn’t discussing your sister and anything. You asked for that private information. I don’t kiss and tell. Or fuck and yell.” Breck smacks his head— third time is a charm. “Listen up.” He launches into his plan and I have to admit, Mason is the master manipulator.
He’s incorporated every aspect, except one. And that’s all me. I have to ask Breck, because this is encroaching on her special time. “You sure, Doll?” Mason snarls with my use of her nickname. I give him the middle finger and wait for her answer.
“One condition.” She smiles.
“Name it.” I concur without question. If she helps get my girl back . . . I’ll name my first-born whatever she wants.
“Does it really make a difference with just the tip?” Saylor’s ass hits the floor she is laughing so hard and Emberlee is snorting. Deacon and Brody are silent, taking in their wives’ reactions and Mason is motioning behind Brecklynn with his hands in prayer position begging me to give his girl the green light.
“I don’t fuck and yell.” I waggle my eyebrows and Mason falls back to his couch in defeat.
“Right on.” Breck grins. “And it’s perfectly fine. I couldn’t imagine anything better to start our wedding with.”
“Three weeks.” I whisper. And as I finish that declaration my mom barges in with tears, shouts, smiles . . . and love.
Sitting in the doctor’s office I half listen as Dr. K goes over all my restrictions. Limited screen time because of possible headaches, driving limited for the first three days. “That’s stupid. All of it. I remember everything. Ask me anything. Give me the MCATs and I’ll ace those fuckers, again.”
“Caden Monroe! Watch your mouth.” Yeah, how does she think I learned those words . . . it wasn’t from osmosis.
“Caden,” Dr. K begins in his doctor voice— another thing I won’t be taking from this experience when I practice medicine— “you’re three hours post remembering. Head traumas are tricky and can have prolonged effects. Humor me.” He’s frustrated with my demeanor like I am with his bedside manner.
“I’ll give you three days.” I begin negotiations.
“You’re under the impression you call the shots?” He raises his eyebrows at me.
“Well it’s only fair. You’re under the impression I’m not an adult and that I have to listen to this crap.” Balls in your court, Doc.
“I swear I’m gonna take you over my knee.” My mom utters while pinching the shit outta my arm.
“Okay, woman.” I pry her fingers from my skin. “Fine. What else?” I ask him waiting for a long list of bullshit.
“Three days. Limit screen time, I’d prefer no driving but I realize genies aren’t real and I don’t get three wishes. Get rest. No heavy workouts. We will see you in three days and go from there.” See, I’m reasonable and he sees the error of his ways. I hope the rest of my plan goes as smooth.
“Let’s go.” I stand, anxious to begin putting everything in motion. That’s gonna require a meeting with Aves’ parents. Hell, if I know my mom, there will be a ten course meal— catered— the entire state of Kansas in attendance, a symphony, a mariachi band— you have to have options— maybe a parade— all to welcome me back to the land of remembering.
As she climbs into the driver’s side, she sets her purse down and reaches over the console and slaps my leg. “Ouch.” I flinch from her.
“I swear you’d think you were raised by wolves. Have you no manners?” The entire time she’s chiding me, the half smile she sporting doesn’t help her appear serious.
“Want me to howl to show you my heritage?” She swats me one additional time as she dissolves in a fit of laughter.
“It’s good to have you back.” She runs her hand down my cheek.
“It’s good to be back. Now, I need a favor.” I snap my teeth at her fingers and have her giggling again. I love that sound.
“I can’t get your recor
d sealed. We’ve been over this. Your lewd and lascivious behavior will hang over your head the rest of your life.” She winks.
“How much do you talk to Mason?” It scares me how alike those two are.
“Hush. That boy is hopeless. He can’t compete with the likes of me.” She starts the car and looks at me. “Does it itch? Do you have spots or is it turning green?” See— two fucking peas in a pod.
“Being serious here.” I exhale.
“Name it. It’s yours.” As we drive home I tell her the plan we devised and she is chomping at the bit to get started.
“Okay. I’ll rally the troops. Go rest. Everyone will be here at six.” There’s no doubt in my mind everyone will be here five minutes til six . . . you don’t fuck with Bethy Monroe and her orders. I think that’s why it shocks everyone I’m as laid back as I am— but I promise there isn’t room for two of her in this world.
“Thanks, Mom.” I kiss her cheek and head upstairs. “Hey, can I have my phone and laptop?” I bat my eyes, giving her the little puppy dog look.
“I’ll bring them to you in a minute.” I decide a shower is in order to release the tension in my shoulders and when I emerge, my electronics are beckoning to me. My phone is the first thing I reach for and type in the code— always pass lock your shit with the crew I hang with— and my phone lights up with notifications.
Fifty-four voicemails the red bubble informs me. I scroll through the texts first and nothing of importance, just random shit. My normal contacts know I didn’t have access. I click on Facebook and make sure my status shows offline— I can’t clue Avery in to my change in status like that. I go to her profile and it’s dormant aside from a few pictures she’s posted with the art in Prague. The images she chose to share are melancholy . . . they aren’t her usual dark colors, the underlying air in the images are haunting.
There’s one photo that grabs my attention. A glass of wine, her with a tear streaked face, and a cigarette hanging from her beautiful lips. ‘Love’ is captioned with a broken heart emoji. She speaks volumes with one single word and conveys it with her appearance. Hang tight baby— I’m here and I’ll heal you. I hover over the comment section and refrain. Exiting social media so I don’t slip and alert her to my recovery, I click the voicemail icon. Every fucking one is from ‘Picasso.’ Scrolling to the oldest I hit the play button.
“Hey it’s me. Except you don’t know who I am and what I was to you. It makes me think this whole love thing is one sided. It’s been twenty-four hours and I’m alone. A ship without its anchor. A canvas without its paint. I don’t know how to do this without you. Please come back.”
The next message starts.
And the next. I listen, my chest so tight I feel it will explode. The pressure building in my eyes is overpowering. I listen to her outpouring of love, her sound of defeat, and her overwhelming pain.
“Hey. It’s Aves. I leave for Prague tomorrow and I’m so angry with you. I know it isn’t your fault— or mine. Tonight I needed a sign showing me I was making the right decision in leaving. You gave it to me loud in clear in the description of announcing you needed to get your dick wet. Those words— they killed me. Knowing my love, our connection, wasn’t strong enough. Knowing you could forget everything. It isn’t rational, I know this. I can’t stop feeling this way. I love you. I hate you. But, I love you more. Oh, thanks for the fucking flowers and chocolate. I threw them through the window.”
I have to stop for a minute. My body is simmering to an unhealthy elevation and eyes opened or closed, all I see is her.
Her tears.
The sadness.
The defeat.
I stand and walk to the window, seeking an escape. My throat is clogged, and I just need her. To touch her. Reassure her. Love her— it’s what I was made to do. I can’t stand here and stare at a landscape when she needs me. Pacing to my dresser, staring at myself in the mirror, I mutter how much I love her. How fucked up this is . . . how she doesn’t deserve this. I know I’m coming for her but I can’t do anything until she’s home. Realistically, I could say fuck the plan and go to her— but how? I’d fly there and make everyone here worry until I have full clearance from my doctor, I can’t do that to them. Again, I feel it’s her versus everyone else and the last thing I want to do is make her feel she isn’t a priority.
Lifting the phone to my ear I listen to another message.
More sadness.
More rants.
The last one kills me.
Fifty-four fucking messages and knowing what I know with her recent behavior it fucking slashes me. The last three lines . . . “Forgetting you is like cutting my heart out. It’s like stopping air from circulating through my lungs. That’s how I feel— lifeless.”
Picasso— I’ll breathe life back into you. I promise . . . if it’s my last breath entering your body, it’s yours to have.
“Caden! Everyone is arriving. Get your ass down here.” Does she hear herself? Watch my mouth . . . pot meet kettle.
As predicted, the entire crew, sans Avery, Mason and Breck, are here with parents in tow. Saylor and Deacon come to meet me halfway; Sara and Josh have stolen their kids. Emberlee and Brody are having a standoff with each other— arguing why they brought Darby’s stroller because Gerald and Natalie don’t let her stay in it. Abigail and Brian are whispering with my dad and my mom looks forlorn without having a baby fill her arms. She turns to me and I know that look.
“Whoa. Back off woman. After med school. I promise.” Darby hears my voice and shrieks. Kicking her legs to get loose, Gerald sets her down as she toddles to me. I scoop her up and I’m enamored with her babble. She snuggles into me after a few minutes and I breathe her innocence in. Best part, I can see this with Aves.
“Look how cute.” Lee Lee gushes as she shows the picture she took to my mom. “Starting operation.” I know she’s sending it to Aves. According to them, I’ve been off limits. They aren’t allowed to mention me . . . but Saylor let it slip that Abigail told her she gets all the information from her. So, I know she hasn’t given up. “I talked to Lukas this afternoon. He’s on board.” Thank fuck. Traveling to Prague to kick his ass wasn’t high at the top of my list of want to do’s but I would have in a heartbeat.
Plus, fifty-four voicemails.
“Let’s sit for a minute.” I address everyone. When everyone is situated I explain. “My memory is back.”
“Damn, Deacon. I thought you had a shot of convincing someone you had skills in the sack.” Josh ribs his son . . . and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear Josh and my mom were Mason’s parents.
“How many times were you dropped on your head as a child?” Deacon asks his dad and Saylor giggles.
“None. But believe me . . . I know how to drop it like it’s hot.” He turns to Sara. “Tell him, dear.”
“Shut up, Josh. Please quit talking.” This is normal . . . par for the course with us.
“Back to why we’re all here.” I command their attention. After a few back claps and kisses from the moms, I can continue. “Avery.” I look to her parents. “I don’t want her to know.”
Brian stands and glowers. “Why? My daughter is in another country, dying each day and you want to fuck with her feelings.”
“Brian Michaels. Watch your mouth in my home. Shit.” My mom throws a piece of candy at him.
“We came up with a plan. I’m ready to chuck it and get on a plane this instant. I’m not fucking with her feelings. I want to tell her but not over the phone. I agree— she’s suffered enough.” He takes his seat with Abigail tugging his hand.
“You can’t deviate from the plan.” Saylor begs.
“What hair brained scheme did my son come up with?” Jason takes a sip of his beer— he knows his son well.
“Mason wants to use he and Breck getting married as part of the plan.” Emberlee hurries to explain the rest of our idea and I let her run the show. It’s her specialty.
“Breck has enough to do with planning a wedding i
n four weeks— that girl is crazy.” Michelle has a twinkle in her eye.
“Yeah, she is marrying your son.” Jason deadpans.
“And yours.” Michelle smacks him.
“Waiting for the DNA test results.” He quips.
“Look in the mirror.” Michelle volleys.
“CHILDREN!” Emberlee grabs their attention. Seriously— apples didn’t fall far from these trees. “I’m handling the wedding preparations. It is my business.” She looks offended anyone could forget. “It will be fine. We need your cooperation with keeping quiet and not spilling the beans,” she turns to Brian, “and helping us get her to Nashville.”
“If this will make my baby smile, I’ll get her to Timbuktu.” He obliges me.
“Let’s not get crazy.” My mom rolls her eyes. “So, you good with this?”
I nod. “The sole reason I’m not on a plane this second is because she deserves this. I need to show her I couldn’t forget one second of my life with her. I get it was an accident, but she’s worth this. And so much more.”
“I concur, Son.” My dad supports me.
“Let’s eat.” My mom ushers us into the dining room where we can finalize plans and iron out the hiccups.
Chapter Seven
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I fume as I stare at my phone.
“What?” Lukas hurries to the patio and plucks the cigarette from my lips. “You need to quit. Try that gum your friend sent.”
“Fuck you.” I glare.
“Such hostility. What has your panties in a twist?” I shove my phone at him and he hums in approval. Traitor.
“Is that your láska holding the baby?” He may know my story but he hasn’t seen photo evidence. That’s a wound I’m not prepared to open— sure, I stare at pictures of Caden every day but it’s my vice. Along with Lukas’ cigarettes, so I reclaim my stolen one and inhale.
“Yes.” I gripe. “I’ve told them time and time again they can’t mention him. No pictures. No information. And that bitch sends this.”
Changing Fate (Endgame #5) Page 5
