“Until you’re strong enough to deal with it,” I echoed, bringing my gaze back to Ava. “And you look pretty strong these days.”
She tipped back her head and laughed gently. “Trying to be. It’s a lot of work.”
“What do you mean?” I wanted to hear all about her journey — as much as she wanted to share anyway. I didn’t take my eyes from her, but I was keenly aware of each of Cole’s movements behind me in the kitchen. The clink of ice in glasses. The hiss of a soda bottle opening. The settling of a pitcher on the countertop.
“Well, I’m doing the twelve steps. I have a sponsor I like, and I just started seeing a therapist,” Ava said easily.
I remembered Mama telling me how Ava had being open about her recovery. Yeah, she was wide open.
“Wow, that’s great.” I said, and I meant it. She seemed to be pleased with the progress she was making, and I was happy for her.
Cole came around the sofa and placed three drinks in front of us on their low coffee table. He slid one of the teas toward me and the ginger ale to Ava before taking the second glass of tea and sitting near his sister on the long L of the sectional.
His eyes were on me the entire time. I reached for my cold drink as heat climbed my cheeks.
“And there are other things too. Things that are helping,” Ava was saying.
I refocused my attention on her. “Like what? What helps?”
“Like yoga. I’ve been going to classes at The Yoga Garden almost every day. And journaling every night.” Ava let out a self-conscious laugh. “And meditating every morning. Basically, a lot of inner work.”
This made me smile. To Ava’s left, I watched Cole smile, too.
“Oh, and Cole’s teaching me how to swim properly, so there’s that,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him with a laugh. “Though I’m not very good at it.”
I frowned. “But you already know how to swim,” I said, remembering all the afternoons she’d spent in the pool with friends.
Ava arched a brow at me. “Oh, I can swim, just not — according to Cole — efficiently.”
“Hey,” Cole protested with a laugh. “It’s not just according to me. Hasn’t your lap gotten faster?”
Instead of answering him, Ava just rolled her eyes, but she did it wearing a playful smile. “Anyway, there’s a lot you have to think about. How you position your head in the water. Where your arms are when you’re pulling your strokes. Timing your breaths.” She ticked off all of these considerations on her fingers, and I realized I probably wasn’t a very efficient swimmer either because I’d never thought about these things. Not that I went swimming much. Not since I’d lived with the Whitehursts, anyway.
“It’s a lot to concentrate on,” Ava said. “And in that way, it’s like yoga. You focus so much on the position and the execution of each movement that you are immersed in the present. And when you get out of the pool, that sense of presence stays with you.”
“Really?” I asked, intrigued. That was how I felt when I was designing. Everything else fell away, and the world grew quiet.
Ava laughed. “Well, for a few minutes anyway. The shitty thoughts still come back,” she said with a shrug and a wrinkling of her nose. “But at least now I recognize them for what they are, and I know there are other ways to ease them that don’t come in a syringe.”
“Wow.” Her honesty was startling, but I admired it. She’d changed so much since we were kids. I looked at Cole to read his reaction and found him closing his eyes, inhaling slowly. Hints of both pain and worry etched the corners of his eyes. If I hadn’t known it from his letter, there would be no mistaking it now. Ava’s addiction had taken its toll on him and still did.
A heavy ache pressed against my heart. Ava was getting help. By her own account, she had a support system in place to help her deal.
But what about Cole?
Ava might be seeing a therapist and going to meetings, but somehow I knew Cole wouldn’t seek out anything like that. I could never picture him sitting around a group for survivors of abuse. So who did he lean on?
“So, you guys reconnected with Mama,” I said, my gaze shifting between them before landing on Cole. “Have you seen any of your old friends? What about Louis Castor?”
He grinned at me, but his eyes narrowed and a little crease formed between his brows. “You remember Louis?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course I remember Louis. He was only your best friend,” I said, a little exasperated. “You remembered Alberta.”
He nodded in concession, his smile pursing to the left. His eyes sparkled. “Touché. I guess Alberta and Louis are equally hard to forget.”
A laugh bubbled up from my middle. Maybe it came from the thought of our old friends. Or maybe it was the way his eyes glittered just like one of my aquamarines.
“How is Louis these days?”
His smile broke loose. It was a smile I’d last seen that long ago night, and it made my breath catch.
“Happily married to Bree Baker and living the life of a supremely lucky hippy in Austin, Texas.” Cole raised his glass to his lips, thankfully shielding me from the force of that smile. Needing a shield of my own, I lifted my glass and drank deeply.
The tea was cold, sweet, and perfect. I swallowed and cleared my throat. I needed him to keep talking so I didn’t have to be the center of attention. Those eyes of his were merciless. His focus was merciless.
“What’s he up to?”
Cole lowered his glass and rested it on his knee, giving me an amused roll of his eyes. “Bree’s parents opened a Flour Power in Austin, and Louis and Bree run it. They make a killing.” Cole shook his head. “He’s the luckiest bastard I know.”
I laughed again, and this time I saw Cole’s eyes flare. He quickly lifted his tea and drained it. Shaking the ice in his empty glass, Cole stood.
“Anyone need a refill?” His voice sounded tight. The muscles in his jaw stood out, as did the tendons in his neck. It looked as though he were holding something back.
“Not me,” Ava said.
I shook my head. “No, thanks.”
Cole just nodded and walked back to the kitchen, but the way he moved made me think of a caged animal. A jaguar. Or a wolf. As though his muscles held a restless energy that bucked to break free.
I made myself stop staring, but as soon as I did, I found Ava’s eyes on me, watchful and cautious. She looked back over her shoulder at her brother.
“Is it time to start the pasta?” she asked.
In response, Cole turned toward the stove and lifted the lid from the stockpot on one of the front burners. Immediately the tempting aroma of marinara filled the room.
“That smells amazing.”
Turning, Cole gave me a sheepish smile over his shoulder. “I’ll tell Newman’s Own you approve,” he muttered.
Ava tsked beside me. “Don’t listen to him. His sauce may start in a jar, but he dresses it up like you wouldn’t believe, and he has homemade meatballs in the oven.” She raised her brows, giving me a serious stare. “Now, those are killer.”
My stomach might have growled in response.
She glanced back at her brother. “You starting the pasta?” she asked again.
Cole gave her a playful scowl. “You hungry?”
“Yeah, I’m hungry,” Ava teased back. “I’m sure Elise is too.”
Cole’s smiling eyes came back to mine. He held my gaze for a moment. It was quick, but the room seemed to fall completely silent while it happened.
“Then I’m starting the pasta.”
“Great.” Ava shot to her feet. “While you do that, I’m going to show her the rest of the house.”
Before Cole or I could respond, Ava was grabbing my hand and tugging me off the couch. “Come on. The house isn’t big, but it’s so cute.”
“O-okay,” I stammered, tripping after her.
Cole took out another stock pot and set it in the sink to fill, but his eyes followed us with open suspicion.
“Quit looking at me like that,” Ava scolded. “I can give our old friend a tour if I want to.”
I watched Cole bite down on his grin. “Sure, Ava,” he said with irony. “Whatever you say.”
Ava huffed, ignoring him as well as anyone could ignore Cole. One of her hands still gripped mine, but with the other, she tipped up her palm and swept it in front of her. “Well, obviously, this is the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Formal dining,” she said with a tease in her voice as she pointed to the table for six, “and casual dining…” She waved her hand Vanna White-style at the breakfast bar and stools that partitioned off the kitchen.
The countertops were a granite that reminded me of oatmeal and brown sugar. The sink where Cole now filled his pasta pot overlooked the living area with a dishwasher to his right and lower cabinets to his left. Behind him was the stove, upper and lower cabinets, a tall, double-door pantry on one end and the refrigerator on the other. The kitchen wasn’t huge, but it was well-designed, obviously updated with new fixtures and appliances, and the space was clean and welcoming.
It was nothing like the house they’d grown up in. And it was perfect.
“I love it,” I said, honestly.
Cole shut off the faucet and flashed me a grin. “I’m glad,” he murmured. “It feels like home.”
And immediately, I knew what he meant. Not like the old home. But like a home. Maybe their first home.
“C’mon,” Ava said, tugging me beyond the kitchen. She waved her hand to the doors on the right. “Hall bathroom and laundry are here. Cole’s home office is here…” She pushed open the door to the right and flipped on the light switch, but she barely gave me enough time to take in the standing desk, bookshelves, and file cabinet before she led me on.
“Guest room,” she said, waving to a room on her left, and then she tugged me inside the next door on the right. “And this is my room.”
She shut the door behind us, which I thought was odd, but I passed my eyes over the warm wheat and sable decor.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“Sure,” Ava said, dismissively, then she pointed to the upholstered bench at the foot of her bed. “Sit down. We need to talk.”
I stood frozen for a second, startled at the turn her tour had taken. “About what?”
Ava flopped down on the bench, rolling her eyes. “About Cole, of course.”
Of course.
I sat, planting my hands on my knees and bracing myself for who knew what.
Ava studied me for about ten seconds in silence. It was a little weird.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” she said finally.
So far, the evening had been emotional, intense, even awkward, but I didn’t regret coming. “I’m glad to be here,” I admitted.
Ava nodded, and I watched her swallow. “Cole wouldn’t let me see the letters he wrote to you, but I know the gist of what he said.” A little frown creased her brow. It made her look more like her brother. “Everything he told you about him — about me — was the truth. I’ve stolen years from him.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think he sees it like that—”
“That’s how I see it,” she said flatly. “If there was a way I could go back and make things right, I’d do it…”
She pulled in a deep breath through her nose and let her gaze fall to the floor. Regret seemed to age her right before my eyes. “…but that’s not possible. So, I’m doing my best to get it right this time.” Ava lifted her eyes to mine. “But my brother needs more than just my recovery.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
My hands were still pressed to my knees, and Ava lifted one of hers and placed it on one of mine. “He deserves to be happy. He deserves to be free from worrying about me.” She arched a brow as though this were an understatement. “But he also deserves to have someone worry about him for a change.”
I felt my eyebrows climb at this. Was she interviewing me for the position? “Ava, what are you trying to say?”
She gave me a no-nonsense stare. “The chemistry between you two is like a freakin’ riptide. You couldn’t fight it if you tried—”
“Ava!” I jumped to my feet, my face nearly igniting. “I haven’t seen him since I was a teenager.”
She tilted her head, looking unimpressed. “Are you denying that you’re still attracted to him?”
“I— Wh— I—” I sounded like I was having a stroke. Maybe I was having a stroke.
Ava’s grin at my stammering was less than gracious. “I’ll take that as a no,” she said, leaning back against the foot of her bed. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, I’m not trying to make you feel weird here—”
I scoffed. “Well, it’s a little late for that.”
Ava rolled her eyes again, but her smile didn’t falter. “Just listen for a minute, okay?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, still blushing. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I mean, what the hell else was I supposed to do? Not only was I still attracted to Cole Whitehurst, but apparently, I wore it like a roadside billboard. If his sister — who also happened to be the person who’d helped me get through school — wanted me to hear her out, who was I to say no?
“Okay. I’m listening.”
Ava nodded, seeming satisfied. “Okay, so, I think Cole deserves to be happy, and my guess is you think he deserves to be happy—”
“Of course he does.” The words burst from me with more than a little force. I realized then that this notion was more than an opinion. It was a belief I’d held for at least half my life.
Ava’s smile warmed her face, her eyes softening. When she spoke, her voice was softer, too. “Right. We’re both right,” she said gently. “The only problem is that, whether he shows it or not, Cole doesn’t believe he deserves to be happy.”
My lungs emptied. Somehow, I knew this too. Just holding the thought in my mind brought me back to that night. Even before what happened had happened, Cole put everything else above his happiness. It had made me angry then, but now it just made me sad. I didn’t want to say anything to this, so I waited for her to continue.
“So, here’s what I want you to know,” she said, locking eyes with mine. “When you two finally get together—”
“Oh my God, Ava. Don’t be ridicul—”
Ava stamped her foot. “You said you’d listen.”
I made a grunt of protest, but I closed my mouth. I may have even scowled at her.
“When you two get together…” she said the words more slowly and evenly this time, as if they were inevitable. “…promise me that if he screws things up and tries to push you away, you’ll hold on and fight for his happiness.”
“Ava, really?” I shook my head, unable to believe what I was hearing. The assumptions she was making were too big a leap. Sure, Cole had wanted me to come to dinner. He wanted a chance to smooth things out between us, and maybe, just like I had, he’d idealized the what might have been about us. But once he got to know me now as an adult, he’d realize I was just me.
Elise Cormier. No one special.
“Yes, really,” Ava countered.
It was my turn to roll my eyes. “First of all, nothing’s going to happen between us—”
“Chemistry like a riptide,” she muttered half under her breath.
“And second…” I didn’t really have a second, so I cast about for something reasonable to say. “…second, I don’t think Cole would appreciate us talking about him like this.”
Ava’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah,” she nodded fiercely. “You’re the perfect person to entrust with his happiness.”
“Ava.” For the first time in my life, I sounded like Mama. Disapproving. Unamused. And fed up.
“Promise me.”
“Ava,” I droned.
She stood, keeping her arms crossed over her chest.
We probably looked like we were about twelve, standing there like mirror images.
“If you think it’s so rid
iculous, so unlikely of a possibility that you’ll get together, then where’s the harm in promising me that you’ll fight for him if he screws up your hypothetical relationship?”
I swallowed. She kind of had me there.
“Promise me,” she sing-songed. Now she really sounded like she was twelve.
And in that moment, Cole’s voice echoed down the hall. “Ava? Elise? Dinner’s ready.”
“Oh, we’d better go,” I said, spinning on my heel, but Ava snatched my wrist and wheeled me back around to face her. I met her determined gaze with wide eyes. Could years of heroin abuse leave a person a little unhinged?
“Promise.”
So, yeah, maybe it could. It was clear she wasn’t going to let this go, and she also wasn’t going to let me go.
“Fine. I promise.”
Ava angled her head, giving me the side-eye.
“You promise what?”
I looked skyward and released a gust of frustration. “I promise that in the very unlikely event that Cole and I become a thing,” I began, blushing furiously as the words left my mouth, “and he does something to screw it all up, I will…”
My voice trailed off. This was really embarrassing.
“Fight for his happiness,” she supplied, as though she were a priest at a wedding feeding the bride and groom their vows.
“Fine. Fine. I’ll fight for his happiness.”
Ava dropped my wrist with a smile. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” She crossed the room and opened the door, turning back to me and whispering. “I’m glad we had this little talk.”
I followed her out of the room, wondering if Cole knew his sister was completely crazy.
Chapter 24
COLE
I don’t know what the hell Ava had done to Elise while they were in the back of the house, but she couldn’t have been giving her a tour. Elise’s cheeks were bright red when they returned and took their seats at the table. I tried to meet her gaze when I served her, but she wouldn’t look me in the eyes.
I’d plated the spaghetti and meatballs, but I’d laid out the salad and garlic bread in the center of the dining table so we could serve ourselves family-style.
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