by Amarie Avant
Avery patted her belly. “I could use some Cuban ropa vieja,” she mentioned the shredded beef meal his uncle was the master of making. “But, because you are such a good son—and will bicker with your mom to keep her safe and healthy—we will make that trip to Miami on the last day there. How does that sound?”
“Sounds like you baby my mother, but okay.” Salvador gave a megawatt smile as he squeezed her into his arms.
~~~
Avery popped up into a seated position. The light from the lamp on the floor close to the elongated arches of the ballroom didn’t reach this far, and darkness surrounded her. Her groggy eyes started to adjust to the dark, and she whimpered, realizing she’d cried in her sleep.
“Donnie . . .”
With a yawn, she lay back and pulled the goose down sleeping bag over her shoulders. Slight residuals of her sobs tremored through her chest and shoulders before she began to feel at peace. Most of the time, she’d wake up and be unable to return to sleep, but this time was different. She fell back into a deep sleep.
~~~
The next morning, Avery went home to shower before going to her parent’s house for breakfast. She dressed in a light pink pantsuit that was perfectly tapered to her curvy figure.
Her little brother was in and out of the kitchen with two waffles sandwiched together while Verdrena and Avery dominated one area of the expansive dining room table.
“You're stuck in a hopeless place, my beautiful girl.”
Avery’s eyes flitted from her mom’s flawless face to the plate before her and back to Verdrena. Seeing the confused look on Avery’s face, Verdrena repeated herself.
“Sweetheart, you are still in love with Donnie.”
Placing her spoon into the sugary bowl of grits, Avery said, “Mom, do you still want to go shopping today? Honestly, I don’t believe I’ve ever shopped more than once in six months in my entire life. And we just went out yesterday—”
“Why did he leave?” Verdrena’s eyes held a question of such interest that, now more now than ever, Avery wished she were capable of answering the question.
Embarrassment burned her cheeks. She glanced down at her food, pushed aside the bowl, and went for the saucer with a half of a grapefruit on it.
The doors opened and in walked the only man who could dry a tear when Avery was a child. The man she focused all her animosity, hurt, and rage onto when Donavan left. Alexander Castle, who had once been the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigations and now did God knows what for the government, wore a tailor-made suit that fit over his muscular physic. He had a fresh fade, and his thick lips rose into a genuine smile.
“Alex.” Verdrena’s terse greeting was missed by her child, but the vast room began to diminish around the two women as Alexander walked the length of the long, rectangular room. Her father was at her side before Avery became aware, she had been lost in her own puzzling thoughts.
“Dad,” she rose slowly. “You’re here.”
Alexander hugged his daughter; her face came to his chest.
As Avery let go of her father, and before Verdrena could move away, Alexander reached out and took Verdrena in his arms. He dipped her backward and kissed her.
“Wow. Please get a room.” Avery gave a light-hearted chuckle. She looked away, and when she looked back up, she could have sworn she’d seen something pass between her mother and father. It had been so long since they argued in her presence, but Avery could usually sense when something was wrong. She started to say something, but she felt her cell phone vibrate and noticed a text from Carly, prompting her to call their home when she was ready to chat with Greg.
“I’ll be back in a moment.” She started to get up.
“Okay, but I’ve been made privy to some very concerning information. This family will have a meeting about what transpired this past Friday the moment you return,” Alexander said. She knew he had huffed because she was watching him out of the corner of her eye.
Avery quickly called the TTY and was connected to the Hardys’ house phone.
She placed the call on speaker and spoke with urgency. “Hey, it’s Avery.”
Her eyes scanned the cell phone screen, awaiting a text response. The TTY relay replied with, “It’s Carly. My dad just took his pain meds, so he’ll be out soon, but if he’s snappy, don’t take it personally. I’m walking to his room now.”
AVERY: Thanks, Carly.
TTY/ CARLY: Just a sec.
If it had to have been carpet instead of marble flooring in the room, Avery was convinced she’d have started a fire, stalking back and forth as she waited for Greg to bring about some clarity to her broken heart.
TTY/ GREG: Eh . . . Hi, Avery. Carly . . . tells me . . .
The conversation came through in bits as the telecommunications prompter took the same great effort that Greg had in completing his words. He was in pain. Avery grimaced at the thought of what he must be going through.
TTY/ GREG: Shit, I can hardly talk . . . Uh, excuse me for the choice of words . . . half the time I can’t get my thoughts together . . . You have a few questions?
While biting her lip, Avery felt a flush of trepidation. When they were young, Greg was the best father Donavan could have had. Now, she was going to ask him if Donavan ever gave a damn about her, without giving any thought to how much it hurt Greg even to speak? She decided how to go about responding.
AVERY: I’ll keep it quick, Mr. Hardy. I’m sorry . . .
TTY/ GREG: Don’t . . . be . . . I miss when you used to brighten up . . . the house.
AVERY: Me too.
Avery hesitated for a moment before finally inquiring. “When Donavan left for the army, do you know why he never said a word to me?”
Her heart drummed in her ears as she waited for a response.
The voice to text she received made her eyes flood like a water fountain. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Unsure if she responded to Greg or thanked him for the truth, she returned to the dining room where her father was feeding her reluctant mother a grape, the green globe, gliding across her blood red lips.
“Damn, I hate you.”
Her mother spoke and signed with worry. “Sweetie, what’s the matter?”
“What’s wrong?” Alexander asked.
Avery’s hips jutted as she stormed over to them and slammed her hand down on the table before her. “Dad, you ruined my life!”
CHAPTER 14
Donavan
“I’m a fucking fuck up,” Donavan’s abdominals contracted as he chuckled to himself. Rock music played a little louder than necessary. Someone had commandeered the jukebox in the raggedy hole in the wall. He tossed the whiskey back, felt the burn, and slammed the shot glass upside down onto the dirty ass bar top. He slapped his palm on the table, momentarily touching something squishy, but who cared? The drinks were cheap, and he was ready for another round.
“You sure you wanna be shit faced tonight, Donnie?” The bartender asked. A set of luscious milky-white double d’s was displayed before him as the bartender leaned across the table.
As a response, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “Lil’ mama, keep them coming, no cheap shit either.”
“Oh, c’mon,” she teased, placing another shot glass before him. “It’s a holiday, let’s do it up right when I get off.”
Before she could saunter away to another patron, Donavan had drunk the whiskey and slapped his hand on the table again.
“Well, baby. Keep drinking. You’re as big as a bull, but I’ll take you home anyway,” she said, another shot glass twirling in her fingers before she placed it down.
“Stop.” Avery’s jealousy-laced voice came from behind Donavan.
Dammit. If he wasn’t on his game, any enemy could’ve come up behind him and shot him dead. He laughed a little, believing that she’d already stabbed him in the back before.
“Um, who are you?” The bartender eyed Avery, cattily, ready to mark her territory for the n
ight.
“Go take someone else’s order, before you catch a case for assisting a drunk.” Avery flicked her wrist at the woman.
Donavan huffed. Avery was here because he was too much of a pussy to leave her alone for good. Last night, he’d found her at Baudelaire Estate. Donavan had driven by on a whim, at least, that’s what Donavan would’ve said if the cops so happened to cruise by. There was no way in hell he could’ve accidentally driven by. The place was at the top of a hill and deep in a forested area.
The place was also big and drab, meaning Avery shouldn’t have slept there all alone last night in the first place. He’d sat in his car until dawn.
The huge place was something that he and Avery had once cared for. They’d assessed it for the barebones.
The potential.
Their dreams.
And dreams they had. While waiting for the sun to come up, he had a long enough time to imagine those daggone goals of theirs. They’d spent so many nights meandering through the halls and foolishly dancing in the ballroom. He had taken her virginity in one of the grand bedrooms, talking of dreams and plans for the place.
He’d gotten out of his Silverado and taken another glance at the precious jewel he once owned before leaving.
“You were there last night?” Avery asked, settling down beside him. He could feel her eyes on him, waiting for a response.
“Hey, I’m the deaf one, Donnie.” Her voice broke as she said his name. He slapped his hand on the table.
“Little mama, get those tits over here,” he ordered.
The bartender, who’d just struck up a conversation with a couple while pouring a glass of cheap wine and uncapping a beer for the guy, smiled as she sashayed over.
“Lady, I said no more for him. Pour him another drink, try me.” Avery gritted out the words.
“Can I at least have a damn beer?” He signed the words in derision, flicking his fingers with each word to intensify the tone.
Avery nodded. The woman raised an eyebrow. They didn’t really know each other, but Donavan had taken her home once, maybe twice. Now, he looked like the rich girl’s bitch.
“I’ll take a margarita,” Avery added. She started to move her strappy purse into her lap, but Donavan stopped her. He pressed her purse into her abdomen and gave her a little nudge.
“Go!”
Avery started to open her wallet anyway, to pay for the margarita, she’d just ordered.
“I’ve given the woman the biggest damn tip because of you,” he said under his breath. He caught Avery’s eye. She was so stubborn that he finally caved. “Look, the drink is on me.”
Avery shrugged and leaned on to her tippy toes, aligning her sexy hips with the stool. Donavan stole a look at Avery’s ass as she sat. The soft silky outfit she wore clung to her tits. They weren’t nearly as large as the bartender’s, but his palms itched with desire. The perfect mold was embedded in his brain—her tiny hard nipples—he could already taste them. Just like that his cock banged against his jeans.
“You were at my great-grand mommy’s house last night, Donnie. Fess up before I slap you.”
He side-eyed her, and then he moved around in his seat until the world faded away and the only thing that remained was Avery Castle. She sat on the stool, her shape like a damn coke bottle. Curvy breasts, slim waist, thick hips. Thick kinks of curly hair caressing her soft cheeks, touching her in ways he begged to. But what stole his breath was the red rim of her pretty brown eyes.
Was she crying?
Who made her cry?
Who the deserved to die?
What were we just talking about?
Oh, her slapping him.
Pointing a stiff finger, he warned, “Don’t threaten me.”
“Or what?”
“Or . . .” He fumbled for the right words. Normally, he didn’t need words. The hard look in his eyes usually did the trick, and when he threatened a man, only dumb fucks like Raymond Palmer didn’t back down. But he was incapable of hurting a hair on Avery’s head. Unable to come up with anything else to say, he signed the words, “Just don’t do it.”
“I'm deaf, so the most plausible explanation is that my other senses are piqued.” Avery began but shook her head. “Not with you, Donavan. Last night I sensed you.”
She paused, instead of elaborating how crazy she’d almost gone composing a score with just a single thought of Donavan Hardy. Avery continued, “I sensed you. Felt you. Because I love you!”
Donavan placed his hands on her forearms, softly sweeping over her velvet skin. But the caress was not meant to placate since his eyes swept around the bar. “Avery, you gotta go, doll. This isn't the place for your kind.”
“My kind? Have I ever . . .” She paused, finding it hard to swallow. “I’m very certain I’ve never treated you differently. You’re the one who's changed. But I guess I can only recognize the man you've become.”
His gaze seemed to dawdle over her for a split second. He rubbed the back of his neck, shoulders slumping since she used the guilt trip tone of the past. Another shot was what he really wanted, but instead, he asked, “What type of man have I become?”
“Oh, you can't even look me in the eye, Donavan. So, you aren't as trustworthy.”
“All right, shit, I’ll give you that. Don’t trust me.” His muscular shoulders jerked in a quick shrug. He started to turn around, brush her off again, but Avery pressed her knees between his legs. It wasn’t like he couldn’t just roll the stool back toward the bar, he could do that with ease, but he allowed her the common courtesy of his attention.
“You were never really kind to anyone but me. Now, you're just downright mean!”
Donavan's eyes stayed at their focal point. The way Avery’s hair flowed over her one shoulder. There was no way in hell he could hate this woman for things beyond her control, but Avery’s presence attempted to extract old feelings, unwelcome, old feelings.
“Last week you said you missed me. Then you pushed me away. Yeah, that's the same rudimentary crap I recalled from the third grade—”
“Sweetheart, I’m a mean, ain’t gonna account for nothing, bastard. Perfect assessment, AC. I watched you last night for a minute or two . . .” Or was it an hour before I heard you whimper, and you sat up, then I became a stalker and watched you from the truck. “But we both know that the white-collar fuck who is madly in love with you is bound to propose soon. If he doesn't pop the question, I'll cap him for you. How's that?”
“How humorous.” She smirked.
“Well, listen, you’ve got me wrapped around that tiny little pinkie of yours. From the moment I broke your heart at first sight, I’ve been a fuck up. I’ve done nothing good for you, AC. Know that you’ll always have my heart.”
“Don—” She tried to get in a word.
His tone hardened, and his jaw tensed. “So how does this sound, if you shed a tear I'll become willfully inebriated and bully the hugest guy at the nearest table. How about that?” He smiled. “But you gotta go.”
“I never cheated on you, Donnie.”
He shrugged.
“You thought I was screwing around, so you left me! It’s not true. My dad told your parents that I was dating the friggen son of one of his best friends. How ridiculous.” Her eyes welled with tears with each word. “I’d never,” she signed, too distraught to speak the words.
“Too late to matter.”
He grabbed the beer that had been set before him longer than he’d realized and downed a good portion of it.
“And I know my father tried to pay your parents over the years. Started with a million bucks. Then two. Then ten to get them to return you to welfare and forget all about their quest to adopt you.”
With a smirk on his face, Donavan turned back to Avery, “Girl, I knew all along. I heard them tell your pops hell nah, a thousand times. So, what’s it to you that the Hardys didn’t want the money.”
“My dad offered you twenty mill when you were fifteen. I guess he stopped after you f
inally allowed the Hardys to adopt you. I remember the court hearing; it was such a good day—”
“AC, c’mon, girl, why are you talking old shit?”
“Because I love you, Donavan. And Greg told me that you hardly spoke to them after he finally agreed to let you enlist. All because you thought I cheated. What is wrong with you! I thought our love was bigger than some bullshit.”
He turned sideways, since she was also sideways, damn near in his lap. He slammed his hands down on Avery’s thighs. It wasn’t to inflict pain. She had enough meat on her bones, and he knew the line between hurting and warning her. “Get outta here, AC! Fuck!” He growled.
Damn. But Avery was as dumb as she thought he was if she believed that Donavan left because he assumed she’d cheated. Okay, so the story about her cheating had added fuel to the flames when Donavan got Greg Hardy to sign off for him to enlist at seventeen. But his decision to leave was a little more believable when Alexander Castle had threatened his adoptive parents’ lives if he didn’t take the documents from the army and beg them to sign it.
Alexander had warned of his connections, and Donavan finally caved. He couldn’t allow his parents to be murdered. Donavan assumed he’d go off to the army, come back with accolades and a free ride to college. He’d gotten in, passed basics, ran through the infantry, and took his ass straight to the 82nd airborne right outta Fort Bragg, North Carolina in order to deploy as soon as he could!
After that, he’d slowed down for a moment and realized how fucked his life was without the infamous AC.
Unable to give Avery a moment more of his time, Donavan turned away, nursing the rest of his beer as Avery got up.
CHAPTER 15
Avery
Watching Donavan at the bar broke her heart for the thousandth time. All the muscles in his back were tense, and he had pushed the beer in front of him away. The bartender came running back like a dog in heat, but he didn’t sniff after her. He was just sitting there. He wasn’t asking for any more alcohol. Earlier, she’d watched him down at least three shots in the ten minutes it took her to muster enough courage to go to him.
