by Mj Fields
“It’s gonna bruise.”
“A bruise is nothing.”
He nods. “I’m getting stronger.”
“I’m glad.”
“Can’t go back to the life I was living.”
“Because of your injuries?”
He looks at me and again says nothing. Then he takes the crutch and starts to move away. “I’m getting stronger.”
I get in my vehicle and hurriedly start it up. Then, even quicker, I reverse and end up squealing tires when I put it in drive.
Dammit.
I pull into the now open garage and see Logan sitting on the inside step leading into the house, waiting for me.
When I get out of the car, he looks at me. “Bang your head...again?”
I nod. “Are they still asleep?”
“Yes,” he says with a bit of a bite.
“I need sleep.”
I walk past him, and he follows.
“Is that why you hate him now? Did he hit you?”
I snap around. “Of course he didn’t hit me! Why the hell would you think that?”
“It’s not hard to put two and two together. I’m not stupid.”
“Luke Lane wouldn’t hit me or anyone else not deserving it, Logan. I don’t hate him because we occasionally bump into each other.”
“Then why? Why do you hate him?”
“I don’t,” I answer, turning my back to him.
“Then why the hell haven’t you reached out to him? Why, when you two—” He stops. “Never mind. I should just keep my mouth shut like everyone else does around here.”
“Everyone else around here? What are you talking about?”
He shakes his head. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
I want to know, but more than wanting to know, I want to get the hell out of here. They are talking about me? My family, his family, the entire town?
Before I say something, I decide I don’t really want to know. I don’t. I just need to get the hell out of here.
The way Logan looks at me is anger mixed with pity. He has never looked at me that way before. Never.
“Good night, Logan.”
“Ava,” he calls out as I walk up the stairs. “You’ll be fine. It won’t be easy, but you’ll be fine.”
I stop dead in my tracks and turn to look at him. “Nothing, not one damn thing, will be all right ever again. So if you and everyone else thinks I am...” I pause. “My children, mine”—I poke myself in the chest—“will be fine.”
After two hours of watching them sleep, being as quiet as I can, I send Casey a text, asking her to come down to the room. While I wait, Chance wakes up. I change him then get ready to feed him, sitting on the bed as Casey walks in.
“Is everything okay?”
I nod. “I don’t want to fly home. Chance’s ears hurt him on the flight here.” I point to the corner where all of our bags are packed. “I am going to feed them, and then I’d like to leave. Is that okay?”
She looks confused but nods.
“They’ll think it’s silly. They’ll try to get us to stay longer. I just want to go home, you know? Just in case it’s more than the flight. He should be close to his pediatrician.”
“Ava, you don’t have to explain,” she tells me, grabbing two bags.
“Oh, and I don’t want Logan to know I’m leaving.”
She nods. “I understand.”
When I get to the garage, she is in the driver’s seat. After I put the babies’ seats in their bases, I start to open the driver’s door, but Casey stops me.
“I am going to insist that I drive. You haven’t had any sleep; I’ve had enough.”
I climb in the back. “If you get tired—”
“It’s a five-hour drive. If you get some sleep, and I get tired, I’ll pull over, and we can switch.”
“Thank you,” I say, looking at my babies. “Thank you for everything.”
We pull out of the driveway, and I feel horrible that I left Logan with just a note. I feel horrible that I am doing this—stealing away at night like a thief. I’m not a thief. I am a mother who will do anything to keep her children safe from ill intentions, safe from being around the stress of judgment, safe in a home that was created out of love.
Once on Route 90, heading to Homer to get on 81, I feel less tense, less stressed. I feel like myself—Ava, mother of two beautiful babies. Then my phone rings.
“Ava, is everything okay?” my dad asks.
“Yes, Dad, everything’s fine.”
“Then why are you not at the house?”
I am shocked for a moment. How the hell does he know this?
“Jade called; said she saw you pull out. Tell me you ran out of diapers or something, I will know you’re full of it, baby girl. We made sure you had everything.”
“And I appreciate it, but I’m heading home—”
“You are heading away from home, Ava. This is home.”
“Dad...”
“Daddy. You call me daddy. Always have—”
“Lucas,” I hear Tessa say quietly in the background.
“No, Tessa. Enough is enough,” he snaps at her.
“Dad, I’m a mom now. Chance didn’t do well on the plane, so we’re driving home.”
“This is fucking—”
I hear a muffled sound, and then, “Ava?” It’s Tessa.
“Tessa, I need to be home. I need to be close to their doctors.”
“We could have driven you,” she says sweetly.
“Your daughter just had a baby. She needs you.”
“You know we’re here, regardless.”
“I know, but I had you all for months. I need this. I need to do what I have to do, and I need to do it without worrying about who I am offending and whose feelings are getting hurt. It’s nothing about anyone but me and these babies. I won’t—”
“I understand, Ava, I do,” she says with all sincerity.
“Then please, please make him understand, too.”
“You’ll call us when you stop, and when you get back to Brooklyn?”
“Back home? Yes, I will.”
“And we’ll come down this—”
“Next weekend. Harper needs you now.”
“Your father can come then, because—”
“No, Tessa. Just...no. I need to take care of me. I need to take care of them.”
Chapter Seven
I can fake it. — S. Lam
Luke
Two Months Later
After a while of being “unable” to reach out, I have finally been in touch with my team, thanking them for their calls and making sure Lilian, Killshot’s wife, and their boys are okay. The pain in her voice nearly brought me to my knees when I spoke to her. Then, when I spoke to Killshot’s little men, it literary brought me to my knees. They were moving back home, to where two people fell in love and decided to raise a family before he even joined the Army.
Now, I try to call every day, or at least leave a message. It’s hard. Lilian thanked me for bringing him home to her, but I didn’t bring him home. I assisted in bringing his body home, bringing back his shell to be buried. To me, that is not a win, and regardless of her words of thanks, I know it really means nothing.
I know.
A few weeks ago, we hosted the entire Ross and Hines families for Thanksgiving, a holiday Ava promised to attend but didn’t, using a storm as an excuse not to travel.
“Better safe than sorry,” Tessa says when she tells us Ava can’t make it.
Lucas says nothing, not one thing. It goes without saying that he’s not happy.
I retire to bed early. I have been pushing myself hard at PT. Even the masochist told me to take it easy. What he doesn’t get, though, is that nothing good ever comes from easy. If I am going to get stronger, I know damn well it’s not going to be easy.
While lying in bed, I hear them playing cards—my folks, Tessa and Lucas, Logan, and my siblings. I also hear an argument between Lucas and Mom, one I am sh
ocked by.
“You need to tell her that he’s going to want the truth when he’s stronger,” Mom says.
“How the hell is it even possible?” Lucas asks.
“I looked it up,” Mom says. “One in four hundred sets of fraternal twins are thought to be bi-paternal. It doesn’t happen often, but there is a chance. Look at him, he looks just like Luke did when he was born.”
“And you trust Google,” Lucas huffs.
“Not one hundred percent no, so then I called a fertility expert. Like it or not, it can happen.” Mom sighs.
“You need to let her get stronger. She’s been through a lot,” Lucas practically growls at her.
“So has he,” Mom snaps.
“Have I said one fucking thing to him, Jade? Have I said anything that would send him running back to the Carolinas or make his depression deepen? Have I?” I hear a chair skid on the hardwood floor. “Let’s go, Tessa.”
“No. No, sit down. This isn’t about either of you. Jade, you remember what went on with Tommy’s parents; how they wanted to take him away from you. How she slapped me. How she tried to keep you in that house, away from all of us. What she did to Lucas!” Tessa nearly yells.
“Of course I do. That crazy bitch. She’s still crazy. But I’m not crazy, and Luke, by the grace of God, is alive and breathing. He’s not thinking straight, but when he does, when he takes the time to figure it out—”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to,” Logan comments.
“Or maybe he just can’t right now,” Ryan interjects. “This is all speculation. No one knows for sure—”
“We’ve seen the pictures, Ryan. He looks just like Luke did when he was a baby,” Mom cries.
“Well, let’s just be honest here; Chance didn’t even look like a baby when he was born. Hell, they both looked like baby birds.” Ryan chuckles, but no one else makes a sound. “Look, I know my son. He may not be my blood, but he is mine, and just like me, when it comes time, he’ll do what’s right by her and that boy, just like I did.”
“How the fuck did I not know? How did we not know?” Lucas hisses.
Christ, here we go, I think.
“Tessa?” Lucas says in an accusatory tone.
“They are adults,” she counters. “They were inseparable as kids. How did we not know? We chose not to.”
“Why are you pointing at me when you’re saying we?” Lucas asks. “Did you know? Aw, fuck, baby, tell me you didn’t know.”
She doesn’t answer.
“Tessa,” Lucas growls.
“Lucas, settle the fuck down,” Mom says, sticking up for Tessa.
“Am I having a fucking flashback here? Why is she always right?” Lucas asks.
“Oh, shut up, Lucas. I just assumed. I never knew for sure.”
“And you, you didn’t think I should know?”
“Well, I thought maybe you were ignoring it,” she answers. “You know you are stubborn and—”
“And you’re a pain in the ass.”
“I knew,” Logan speaks up.
“What!” everyone says at once.
“I knew, but it wasn’t my business,” he states.
“So you’re okay with what your sister is going through?”
“No, Dad, I’m not, but shit happens. I’m pretty damn sure neither of them expected it, so I agree with Ryan. If Luke wants to know if Chance is his, he’ll find out when he’s ready. But Ava...Ava will never be ready. She made the decision to love T and allow him to love her. I am team Ava here one hundred percent. I can’t imagine what she’ll do or how she’ll feel if he tries to take Chance away from her, or Hope. Hell, I don’t know what I’ll do, and I love him like a brother.”
“So, you’re saying you’ll do whatever Ava wants, regardless of what a man you just said is like a brother wants?” Mom asks.
I hear another chair move.
“With all due respect, Jade, you bet your ass I will.”
“Logan, where are you going?” Mom asks.
“I’m going home, to my place in Syracuse. I need to get the hell out of here. You all smother each other. No wonder Ava beat feet to Brooklyn after her last visit. Can’t imagine how she must feel about herself. Hell, even I gave her shit, but I won’t anymore.”
“Logan!” Mom calls after him.
“Jade, this isn’t about us. We need to let those two get through whatever they need to, and then we support them,” Ryan says calmly.
“When did I become the bad guy?” Mom snaps.
“The moment you held him in your arms and knew you would do anything to protect him, just the same as Ava is doing for those two babies.”
Over the past few weeks, my mind has been focused less on the bombing, the death of a friend, and more on the girl who never called and asked how I was. I understood. She has been going through a hell of her own, but it isn’t sitting well with me.
After overhearing the conversation, I decided it is time to man up, to find out what the hell is going on. I can’t do that lying in a bed, waiting for answers to fall from the fucking ceiling, so I made changes.
Today, I am walking with just a cane. I’m still in pain, but I won’t take the medication. It fucks with my head, makes me angry and numb, and that is far worse than the physical pain.
Tomorrow, I am taking a road trip, and like Ava, I’m leaving and no one will know until morning.
This is the third day I have sat outside in my truck as the snow falls in big, fluffy flakes onto the ground. Unlike the last two days, though, I am parked closer. Today, I will confront Ava and find out what the truth is.
Casey, the girl Ava trusts with her kids, has a record. She was a whore, a prostitute, and I have no fucking clue why that’s okay with Ava. Hell, maybe she doesn’t know. The woman’s record is buried, but I know how to unearth just about anything. Now Casey hasn’t been around for two days.
The tenants on the other floors are all involved in the entertainment industries, all making more money than God, and that is hard for a man like me to understand. It pisses me off.
I open my duffel bag and pull out the bottle of eight hundred milligrams Ibuprofen. It helps with the swelling and to take some of the physical pain away. Then I wash it down with a bottle of water and some crackers before drinking down a protein shake, forcing myself to eat what I can. Then I wait ten minutes before getting out of my truck, waiting for Torrance Talon, a resident of this building, to enter.
My insides are a mess. I’m not sure I’m ready to do this, but I have to.
I follow him inside and into the elevator. There are three apartments on the second floor, so I make small talk with him, leading him to believe I am visiting Nan Buford, a Broadway extra who is brought home by a different man every night. He doesn’t question my visit. I’m sure he assumes I’m going to fuck her. I allow him to believe that.
Once he’s in his apartment, I head toward the stairway I found online of the blueprints to the building and make my way up the flight of stairs to the emergency exit.
I know Ava. If I simply knock, she won’t answer. Therefore, I use my skills to disarm the alarm before opening the door. It takes all of twenty seconds to get in, and I make a mental note to fix that issue, whether she likes it or not.
It’s quiet and nearly dark inside the apartment. The only light is from a big screen TV, but no sound is on. It’s a video, one of the Burning Souls, paused.
On the still screen is a shot of Thomas Hardy on the drums, looking off stage with a smirk on his face. I see what he’s looking at: a younger Ava Links with a big grin on her face.
My fists clench. Fucker could do that to her when I was fucking her back then. I know damn well I was, yet she never lit up like that for me.
Like a punch in the gut, I realize I never gave her a reason to.
Fuck it. None of that matters right now. I am here for one reason, and it isn’t about a dead man and what he did to a girl who I pretended not to love. It’s about a child, one that may be mine.
I see the curtains on one of the French doors blowing and wonder why the hell it’s open when it’s only thirty degrees outside.
I move toward the door, taking in my surroundings. The place is not what I pictured Ava living in. It’s nice, very fucking nice, but it’s walls are cold, and there are no family pictures, no girly shit. It’s not Ava.
I get to the door and look out onto a balcony, finding her sitting on the ground, in...sweatpants and a tee-shirt, socks pulled up to her knees outside of the sweats, and her hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in days, up in one of those give-a-shit-less dos. She is sobbing into her hands, and her body is shaking.
I clear my throat to say something, and she looks up and gasps.
Then she stands and barks, “Get out!”
I shake my head. There is no fucking way I’m leaving.
“Now!” she yells then bends down and grabs some sort of walkie-talkie. She looks at it, and then whispers harshly, “Get. Out.”
“You and I need to talk,” I tell her as she begins to walk past me.
“No. No, we don’t,” she sneers.
I grab her hand, and she tries to pull it free.
“Yes, we—”
“I’ll call the cops,” she threatens as her bottom lip begins to quiver. “I will.”
“I highly doubt that. I know you—”
“You have no idea who I am now! No idea.”
“Don’t give a damn, Ava. We’re gonna talk.” Just then, the wind blows in the wrong fucking direction, and I am assaulted by a vile smell. “You stink.”
“Fuck you,” she hisses, pulling her arm away. This time, I let her, but then I grab her around the waist and haul her up over my shoulder.
The Ava I knew had curves. The Ava I just threw over my shoulder is skin and bones. That is not okay with me. It’s also not okay that she isn’t taking care of herself. She is a mess. I have my work cut out for me.
She begins fighting, and my knee buckles, forcing me to grab the counter I am walking past to steady myself.
“You are such an idiot. Put me down!”
“You gonna take a bath so you don’t smell like a camel’s ass?” I ask.
