Right Where You Are

by L. E. Bross

  He punctuated his words with his lips against my shoulder.

  I shifted my hips and pressed back against the hard bulge in his shorts.

  “I think maybe we should get an early start on the weekend,” he growled.

  I was about to agree when my phone started humming. I’d set it to vibrate last night so nothing would interrupt us.

  Still, who the hell called at five in the morning on a Friday?

  A quick glance at the screen told me I should have known.

  “Good morning, Mother.”

  “Avery. I need you to be at the house tonight at seven. Your father is meeting a few of his more important campaign donors, and we need to show them that all this nonsense with you has not affected our family. The gray suit and black heels, the thin ones, not that clunky pair you like to wear. Please make sure your hair is presentable. I can call in a favor to my stylist; actually I’ll just do that right now. Be at Trinity’s by five.”

  She hung up before I even had a chance to mumble a reply.

  “Has she always been that overbearing?” Seth asked.

  “You heard that?” I leaned over and set the phone on the stand. My hand was shaking with anger. Not once had she ever asked me to do anything. Avery, you will take riding lessons. Avery, you will be in advanced calculus this year. Avery, you will wear the gray suit and black heels. The thin ones.

  “Kinda hard not to. She has one of those voices.”

  I settled back against Seth’s chest and closed my eyes. I wanted to call her back and tell her to go to hell, but I knew I wouldn’t. It was a tiring obsession, the quest to win my mother’s approval. I was an adult and it shouldn’t matter anymore, but every time she told me to jump, I simply asked how high.

  Seth brushed my hair back and traced his fingers over my temples. “I start my job tonight anyway, if you need to go.”

  I’d totally forgotten about that. “I won’t see you at all tonight? Or tomorrow?”

  His fingers stilled.

  As illogical as it was, tears burned the back of my eyes. I shifted so that I was on my back looking up at him.

  I hated this. I hated her intrusion on our perfect morning.

  “Will you come over when you get out?” I asked.

  He looked down at me, hesitation in his eyes. “It’ll be late and I’ll smell like bar sweat.”

  “I like waking up with you,” I said.

  “I said anything, so yes, I’ll come by after work.” He kissed my forehead, my nose, then moved to my lips.

  We were only three minutes late to CS.

  And I had all day to dread seeing my parents that evening. I thought about ignoring my mother’s recommendation that I see her stylist before dinner, but it would only add fuel to her fire. I just wanted to go, smile when prompted, and leave as soon as I could.

  I was still mad as hell at both of them for what they tried to do.

  I left to see Trinity at four thirty. At seven, I stepped into the foyer of my parents’ home, filled to the brim with attitude. If she wanted me there, it would be on my terms.

  “That’s not the gray suit.” Her gaze ran down over the fitted black cocktail dress I’d picked out instead. The neckline plunged below what she deemed decent and the slit in the side hit midthigh. I felt confident and sexy in it.

  “I was tired of looking like a fifty-year-old aunt.” I slid my jacket off my shoulders and handed it to her. She liked to pretend we were just a normal family when we had donors come over. For whatever reason, greeting them at the door and taking their coats, which she then handed off to David, fell among her “domestic duties.”

  Mother’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell have you done to your hair?”

  “Had some length taken off and did some fun highlights. I think the caramel and lighter blond streaks really make my eyes pop. At least that’s what Trinity said.” I smiled.

  The best part was that she’d paid for it.

  “Avery, is that you?” My dad’s voice boomed through the foyer, and with a shrug, I pushed past Mother and headed into the front parlor, where it looked like everyone was gathering for drinks.

  This time the gathering was more intimate, with only a dozen of my father’s best supporters. The ones who donated huge sums of money and whom my father would then grant favors to after he won the seat as mayor.

  “Dad,” I said coolly. I started past him to the bar, but his hand on my arm stopped me.

  “Not the time or place,” he said under his breath. “Tonight is about showing a united front. I’ve invited Grant and his father. I expect you to smile and be supportive.”

  I glared at his hand. “Of course. It’s not like I’d do something crazy, like bribe an ex-boyfriend or anything, right? That’s your MO.” With that I yanked free and he had to let me go, unless he wanted to make a scene.

  “Cranberry and vodka,” I told the bartender. If my mother expected me to sip white wine all evening, she was in for another surprise.

  “You look beautiful,” a familiar voice said.

  “Not in the mood, Grant.” I grabbed my glass and slid a five into the tip jar.

  “I’m actually being sincere. That dress looks great on you, but there’s something else.”

  “The hair?” I asked, waving my hand toward my head.

  “Nope, but I like it. It fits you in some weird way.” His gaze moved over my face, and more than once I thought he was going to say something. If my father sent him over to try to get back together again, I was going to scream.

  “I’m not getting back with you, Grant. And you can tell my father to stop trying unless he wants a scene.”

  “That’s not what I wanted to say. I know we’re over. Hell, we were never really on in the first place.” He must have seen something in my eyes, because he held up his hand. “Don’t deny it, Ave. You know it’s true. There wasn’t any chemistry between us. We’ve been friends since we were like five, and it was always there that we would end up together. I think we both went along with it because it was the easiest thing to do.”

  Hearing him say it, admit what I knew, was actually a relief. “I know.”

  “I am sorry about Krista. I was desperate for a connection and felt something with her, and I should have talked to you about all this instead of letting you find us like that. I never wanted to hurt you.”

  Finally, he was telling me the truth. I saw it all over his face. And instead of anger, I felt . . . free.

  “I should have said something too. I guess I never really thought there was anything else for me, you know. I never knew what it was that was missing until I met . . .” I glanced around the room. Was I really talking about my current boyfriend with my ex-boyfriend?

  “He makes you glow,” he said quietly. There was a sadness in his eyes. “I never did that for you.”

  “What?” My glass froze halfway to my mouth.

  “The new guy. That’s what’s changed about you. I’ve never seen you look so . . . happy. No, confident. Your mom must have shit a brick when you walked in tonight. Let me guess, gray suit, right?”

  I laughed. “Yes. And she’s the one who insisted I visit her hairdresser, so she paid for this, which makes it even better.”

  “You never would have found this part of yourself with me. We were too . . .”

  “Like our parents?” I asked.

  “Exactly.”

  I looked up at Grant. Somehow he seemed different to me too.

  “I hope one day you can forgive me,” he said. “I know I probably don’t deserve it, but before all this we were friends, and maybe we can get back there someday.”

  “I don’t hate you.” And I didn’t. He was human. He’d screwed up, but so had I by accepting good enough instead of great.

  “You surprised the hell out of me. When you trashed my truck. I was willing to accept what you did, hell, I deserved what you did to it.”

  “Why did you press charges then? The video?”

  He met my gaze, then it faltered.


  Shit. Grant didn’t do it after all.

  “My father made you do it?”

  Grant sighed. “He said that with the video, there was no way he could push it under the rug and that he couldn’t make an exception, not with his one-strike platform. I’m sorry about that too, Ave. I didn’t want to.”

  It helped knowing that Grant had not planned on pressing charges. He wasn’t the dick I thought he was.

  “Thank you for telling me. And it’s okay. Because if none of this had happened, I would never have met Seth.”

  “To finding your happiness.” Grant lifted his scotch on the rocks and I held up my glass. The soft click felt like the end of something and also the beginning. “And not taking your mother’s fashion advice anymore.”

  We both laughed.

  From across the room I saw my father nod in approval in our direction. He probably thought we were making up. Let him think he won.

  My mother came into the room and clapped her hands. Her hair was perfect. Her dress was perfect. She barely spared a glance for my father. “Dinner is served. Please follow me.”

  Grant held out his arm, and I tucked my hand into the groove of his elbow. At least I wouldn’t be alone for the rest of the night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Seth

  Friday night and the place was packed.

  Jimmy had me running into the storeroom for beer pretty much all night. It was midnight and there were no signs of anyone slowing down. Trial by fire was damned true.

  A shoving match broke out between two drunk-off-their-ass guys, and I put down the rag I’d been holding. “Time to earn my keep again,” I shouted over my shoulder.

  Sylvia gave me a thumbs-up. This was the third scuffle I’d broken up tonight.

  “Okay, guys, settle down or you’re outta here,” I yelled when I was next to the two idiots throwing punches so far off their target it would be funny if they weren’t serious.

  One guy turned and aimed his drunk fist at me. I grabbed it and spun him around, twisting it behind his back. “Okay, man, time to head home.”

  His slurred rant hailed down on me as I led him out the door.

  When the cool night air met us, he stopped struggling. I let him go and stepped back. “You need to keep your temper in check, or you won’t be welcome back here, you got it?”

  He mumbled something that sounded like screw you, then turned and tripped his way toward the street. I scrubbed my hand over my face. Another hour and we could kick all of ’em out and lock the door.

  I had to remember that every asshole drunk was one step closer to getting Sara away from Davis. That alone motivated me to go back into the sweltering air.

  I’d just got back behind the bar when my phone vibrated.

  Jim said he didn’t like personal calls at work, but I couldn’t think of anyone who’d call, so I pulled it out of my pocket. Ryan?

  “Hey, man, what’s up? Not supposed to get calls at work.”

  I couldn’t hear him over the noise around me. I held up a finger to Sylvia and ducked back into the hallway where it was quieter.

  “Sorry, man, place is a zoo. What’d you say?”

  “Sara’s in the hospital, Seth.” Ryan’s voice cracked and my heart stopped. “It’s bad and she’s in surgery and they won’t tell me anything because I’m not family.”

  The floor tilted, and I thought I was going to lose my burger from earlier. My blood froze and grew sluggish in my veins. Now the noise around me silenced for a different reason.

  “Where?” I croaked.

  “Eastside Memorial. You better get here quick. I don’t know . . . just get here, okay?”

  “I’m on my way,” I said, already pushing my way out of the bar.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Avery

  “It takes a village to elect a new mayor, and I’m proud to be surrounded by the people who believe I’m the best candidate for that job.”

  My father stood at the head of the table among the murmurings of agreement. I resisted an eye roll as I pushed the rubbery chicken around on my plate. The night had been interminable, even with Grant and me back on good terms, and all I wanted was to get home and wait for Seth. Now I had to listen to my father’s posturing on top of everything.

  “My record speaks for itself, and I firmly stand behind my one-strike platform, which I think will see a dramatic reduction in crime in our fair city.”

  Several glances moved to me.

  That I was not an exception helped my father in his endeavor.

  “Despite recent unexpected circumstances, we’ve pulled together, and I’ve shown that I mean business.”

  More approving noises and more glances turned my way. It was obvious that I was that circumstance. I was there tonight to assure everyone I had fallen in line.

  “Monica, Avery, would you join me, please.” This is where I was supposed to stand on one side with my mother and smile like the happy family we were supposed to be.

  I stood reluctantly with a smile plastered on my face. Just as I was about to push my chair back, my phone vibrated in my purse. Next to me, Representative Jones’s wife narrowed her eyes. The noise stopped, and I slid the chair back so I could step free from the table.

  My mother already stood at my father’s side, and they both watched me with mixed expressions of impatience and annoyance.

  Two low hums came from my purse.

  Grant reached over and plucked it free, but his eyebrows dipped down when he looked at the screen. Unmindful of everyone around us waiting, he held it out to me.

  A text.

  Avery it’s Ryan. Pick up your damned phone.

  Almost immediately it started vibrating again.

  I answered without even having to think about it. Already my heart thumped against my ribs. Why would Ryan call me? Oh, God, what if something had happened to Seth?

  “Hello?” My voice came out shaky and too high.

  “Avery. You need to get to Eastside Memorial right now,” Ryan said breathlessly. In the background I heard the rumble of a truck’s engine.

  My knees started to shake and I reached out, searching for something solid to hold on to. Grant was there, his hand in mine. Keeping me from falling onto the floor.

  “Oh, God, did something happen to Seth?” Tears burned the backs of my eyes.

  “He’s okay. It’s Sara. She’s in surgery. I was just coming home when the ambulance came barreling through. Someone said Davis beat her up bad. I didn’t tell Seth it was Davis, but once he finds out . . .”

  “He’ll go after him,” I whispered.

  “And if he does, he’ll be back behind bars. You have to talk to him. He’ll listen to you. But you have to hurry.”

  “I’ll be right there.” I ended the call and looked up. Every gaze in the room was on me. My mother looked furious. “I have to go,” I said to the room. “Excuse me.”

  “I’ll drive you,” Grant said. “You’re in no condition to be behind the wheel.” He took my shaking hand in his and squeezed. He must have heard Ryan talking.

  I was at the front door when my father’s voice stopped me.

  “Where are you going?”

  “The hospital. A friend needs me.”

  His eyes narrowed, one side of his lips raised in a sneer. “It’s that boy, isn’t it? Did he get in a bar fight?”

  I pulled free from Grant’s hand and stormed over to where my father stood. He was six inches taller than me, but I didn’t care. I still got in his face.

  “Seth. His name is Seth. And his sister’s in the emergency room because their stepfather who keeps her drugged up beat the crap out of her tonight. No one knows what’s happening and I am going to be there in case he needs me. Because that’s what you do for the people you care about.”

  I didn’t wait for my father to reply. Didn’t even stop to see if he heard me. I’d never raised my voice to him before, but I was too scared for Seth to even care.

  There wasn’t time. I
f Seth went after Davis, if he found him, it wouldn’t only be a parole violation.

  I was terrified that Seth would kill him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Seth

  “Sara Hunter,” I croaked to the nurse behind the front desk. “She was brought in by ambulance. She’s in surgery now.”

  “Are you family?” the dark-haired woman asked as she typed on her keyboard. Each click of the keys jolted through my head. Tiny triggers that threatened to blow my brains out.

  “Brother. I’m her brother. Is she going to be okay?”

  The nurse looked up, and I saw a flicker of sympathy pass over her face.

  “You’ll have to take a seat in waiting room B2, it’s down the hall, first right. When the doctor is done, he’ll come out and talk to you. In the meantime, I need you to fill out some forms. Medical history, insurance information, that kind of thing.”

  She handed me a clipboard and a pen.

  I stared at the questions. I didn’t have the first fucking clue about any of it.

  “Give it to the nurse there when you’re done,” the nurse said.

  I made my way down the fluorescent-lit hallway. The sharp sting of antiseptic cleaner filled my lungs. Every step thundered in my head, and I focused on making my feet move, though it was as if I trudged through sludge.

  Images pounded into my brain.

  Overdose.

  Heart failure.

  Brain damage.

  The last time I’d been here was when our mom died. A sick feeling settled in my stomach. I didn’t get to see her until after, when she was lying on the hospital bed, her eyes closed, her chest still.

  Sara had clung to my hand, silent tears streaming down her face.

  This could not be happening again.

  I sat down in the empty waiting room and stared at the forms in front of me.

  I looked up and met the gaze of the nurse behind the desk. She glanced at the screen, then back at me. “Mr. Hunter?”