27 Truths: Ava's story (The Truth About Love #1)

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27 Truths: Ava's story (The Truth About Love #1) Page 10

by M. J. Fields


  “What’s going on?” Harper asks, standing next to me and then, “Oh. Oh, my. That doesn’t look good.”

  “Would you be upset if I went home?”

  “You want to leave?” she asks.

  “Yes. Yes, I do.” I nod.

  “Because of Luke and Liam?”

  “Because I feel like shit and because that mess out there will simmer down and because I am completely exhausted.”

  “Hey, Ava,” Harper says quietly. When she talks like that, it’s because she doesn’t want to say what she needs to. “If something is happening with you and Thomas, just be careful.”

  “Be careful?” I gasp. “Why? Is something wrong with him?”

  She shakes her head. “He really likes you.”

  “I kind of like him, too. But not right now.”

  With that, I run and kiss Dad, telling him I will see him in the morning.

  Before he can say anything, Tessa grabs his hand and tells me, “Drive safe and get some sleep.”

  I give Harper a kiss on the cheek before I leave, telling her, “Tell Piper I love her, and I’ll see her soon, okay?”

  I walk outside where all four men look at me. Three of them, I have slept with. I look away and walk toward the SUV.

  “Ava!” Liam yells.

  “Have a good night,” I say, continuing to walk.

  “Ava, you don’t have to leave,” my dad’s voice is now in the mix, and I am almost starting to run. “She’s home for the holidays, and you have her running,” I hear him snap.

  “I have her running?”

  I stop and turn around when I hear T’s voice.

  “Yes, you have her running,” Dad snaps back.

  I look at them, seeing Liam is the only one who notices me. He mouths “go,” and I shake my head, walking back to them.

  “I came outside. It’s these two who—”

  “T,” I snap, and he looks up. “You drive here?”

  “Of course I drove here.”

  “You been drinking?”

  He looks away.

  I sigh. “Come with me.”

  “Ava …” Dad says.

  “No, Dad.” I shake my head then look at T. “You coming?”

  “Is that what you want?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yes.” I then pull my keys out of my pocket and toss them to Liam. “Can you give these to Harper and tell her I’ll be back for them?”

  “When will you be back?” Dad asks.

  “I don’t know, Dad,” I tell him before looking at T who is standing beside me. “Keys?”

  He hesitates.

  “Keys, now.”

  He huffs and hands them to me.

  “Let’s go.”

  “If you hurt her, you and I will have problems,” my father warns.

  “He’s not gonna hurt her,” Maddox defends T.

  “He better not,” Dad snaps.

  We walk toward his Land Rover, and I hit the unlock. T climbs into the passenger side, and I get in the driver’s seat.

  “Can you drive stick?” he asks.

  “Of course I can,” I say as I grind the gears into reverse.

  “She’s terribly sorry,” he says as he pats the dashboard.

  “No, she’s not.” I purposely grind into drive and floor it so we drive over the bank of snow that was plowed to clear the driveway.

  “Ava, please take it easy on her,” he says, and I can’t help laughing. “Matilda, she doesn’t mean it.”

  I spin the tires, throwing snow behind me as the vehicle fishtails.

  “Ava, for fuck’s sake!” T pulls his seatbelt down, buckling it. Then he reaches over and tries to grab mine.

  I bat away his hand.

  “I’m gonna have to insist you put that fucking thing on now, Ava,” he says.

  I glare at him, and he glares back.

  “I’m not fucking kidding.”

  I grind into second, yelling, “Don’t ever do that shit to me again!”

  “By shit, I assume you mean questioning Luke and Liam’s intentions?”

  “It’s none of your business, T!”

  “I fucking laid it all out to you last night! I asked that you not lie to me!”

  “I didn’t lie to you!”

  “It’s obvious that you and Luke—”

  “It’s not obvious, and it’s not something I will discuss!”

  “I don’t accept that,” he sneers.

  “Then accept this: when you left this morning, I was ready to look away from my … past. When you sent that gift, I was more than ready. When my dad questioned me about you, I stuck up for you, for me, for us. I am so sorry that I didn’t return your text—I am going through some things—but when I say I’m done, when I said I wanted you, I was sincere. I trusted you! Tonight, you blew that out of the water. You made me feel stupid in front of all of them. And let me tell you, I am going through hell right now, and you, you made it worse!”

  He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even look at me.

  “Fuck you, T. Fuck. You!”

  Twenty silent minutes later, I pull into the Statler Hotel. I grind the gears, putting the vehicle in park and killing the engine.. Then I turn and look at him.

  “My key is at Maddox and Harper’s,” he says matter-of-factly.

  I pull the one he sent me out of my bra. “Take mine.”

  “I can’t. I gave it to you.” He lifts his chin in the air.

  Fucking Brit!

  “I don’t know how they do things in England, but here, you can ask for another key card at the front desk,” I snap.

  “I’ve traveled a bit,” he says sarcastically.

  “I’m well aware of your travels,” I retort.

  He turns and looks at me, not saying a word, and then says, “If you would rather be with the farm boy or the toy soldier with the personality of a fucking mop, just let me know. I, too, can find companionship.”

  “Veterinarian and a fucking career soldier who keeps your ass from speaking German! How dare you?” I toss the keys at him and get out of his vehicle.

  His door slams at the same time as mine, and then he is immediately at my side as I walk down the slush-covered sidewalk.

  “Listen to me, Ava!”

  I look around as people walking by slow down and stare.

  “You’re causing a scene,” I growl at him.

  “You’re the crazy person walking in the freezing cold, and to where, Ava? Home? It’s fifteen minutes from here in a damn vehicle going a hundred and ten kilometers.”

  “I’d rather freeze than deal with you.” I continue walking.

  “Deal with me? I’m fucking Thomas Hardy. Women line up to meet me, Ava, just like you did the first time we met!”

  Shocked, I look around and see everyone staring.

  I slap him across the face. “You go fuck yourself!”

  He doesn’t even flinch. “Not necessary.”

  “When I walk away, don’t follow me.”

  “Unbelievable!” he says, raising his hands in the air. “You are unbelievable.”

  “Yep, sure am.” I walk down the sidewalk as people still stare.

  “Leave it to me to fall for a crazy woman.”

  I raise my arm up, and he laughs loudly.

  “You aren’t in NYC, Ava Links. There are no cabs here!”

  A car pulls over, and I flip him off. As I get in, he runs and stops me from shutting the door.

  “Are you insane? Do you know what can happen to you, Ava!”

  “Is that T Hardy?” Maxi asks.

  “Yes, and he’s a fucking asshole.”

  “What did I do?” he asks, his voice full of emotion.

  “If you can’t figure it out, there is something seriously wrong with you.” I look away. “Maxi, can you please take me home?”

  “You know her?” he asks.

  “We went to high school together. Me, Ava, and Harper—”

  “Maxi, please,” I plead.

 
“Right, well, nice meeting you, Thomas Hardy,” she says.

  “You, as well. Ava—”

  “No. No. No. No.”

  ***

  I lie in bed, and every time I close my eyes, I see his face: his anger, his jealousy, his smugness, and so many more emotions I can’t even begin to understand.

  I grab my phone and google Thomas Hardy. The writer and poet and the actor Tom Hardy pop up on Google, and so does T.

  I search for his bio, needing to know more about him, more about what makes him tick, but there isn’t anything except his time with Burning Souls. You would think someone would have dug in deeper, but apparently, no one has.

  T was not himself today, and I can’t help blaming myself. But he’s not a child. He shouldn’t have been rude to Liam, or Luke for that matter.

  My phone rings, and Harper’s name pops up. I answer immediately.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “No, T is all out of sorts, and he is never out of sorts. Never.”

  “What sort of sorts?” I ask.

  She laughs. “He’s got a disease, and apparently, his ailment is—”

  I sigh. “G.A.D.”

  “Could you call him so Maddox doesn’t have to talk him out of moving back to England again?”

  “Again?”

  “Yeah.” She yawns.

  “Harper, what’s his story?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I reiterate, “Where is he from? What’s his background?”

  “Well, I think you should ask him, but not tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “Hold on,” she says, and I hear a door shut. “Quickly, before Maddox hears me … He doesn’t know his father, and his mother moved to India when he was fifteen. T was basically on the streets from as far back as he can remember. Even when he did have a place to live, he hustled to eat and buy clothes. He and his mom lived in those low-budget weekly rental hostels when there was money. When there wasn’t, they slept in a car.”

  “Are you certain?” I ask.

  “He had no one.”

  I don’t know what to say or how to respond.

  “That’s what I meant when I said be careful with him. He’s an awesome guy. Piper loves him, and we trust him explicitly, but he does try very hard to distance himself unless he feels useful or needed.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “He and Maddox are so close, Ava. They are so similar in so many things, but the difference is Maddox had Brody, Emma, and the girls. T got thrown directly from having nothing to having it all, and he can’t always accept that he deserves it. And he does. My God, he deserves so much more.”

  “He overstepped today.”

  “Then tell him that,” she says softly.

  We say good-bye, and I hang up with Harper to dial T.

  He answers, saying my name.

  “I’m mad at you.”

  “I’m pissed at you, too,” he slurs.

  “Last night, I promised not to lie to you, but I didn’t promise to tell you everything in my past.”

  “I told you I wanted to know everything.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Which one do you love?” he demands.

  “Love in what sense?”

  “Love is love, Ava,” he says as if it is an absolute.

  “No, love is not love, T. It’s not. I grew up with them. I love them both. Liam has been and always will be as loved by me as Harper is. Luke is very different.”

  “Which one are you fucking?”

  “The last person I slept with is you. You, and that was...” I pause. “T, I can’t give you details or answers without breaking promises to myself. I am not in a relationship with either, but I love them both.”

  “What if I tell you I won’t allow it?”

  “Then I will tell you that you’re missing out because all those things I said last night are true. This morning, I woke to the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, and that same person made me feel worse than I already did about … Well, I told you I was going through some things, and you made those things worse.”

  “I won’t let them hurt you.”

  “One of them has never hurt me and the other never will again. But you, I believed what you said last night, and the message you sent this morning was heard loud and clear, and I was happy, T. I was happy and excited, but now … Now I’m tired and am going to bed. I’m sorry you feel like I betrayed you, but you had no right to do what you did today, and you did it in front of everyone. Two people know about the things you figured out today. Now I am certain more do. You hurt me today.”

  “You hurt me, too.”

  “And I’m sorry for that, but I am tired of hurting. Good night, T. Sleep well.”

  He doesn’t say a word. He simply hangs up.

  If there were any tears left for me to cry, I would, but there are none.

  ELEVEN

  * * *

  No two loves are the same.

  — M. Bennett

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  I walk into my apartment, dropping my keys and bag on the entry table before sitting on the chair to the left to pull my feet out of my Heritage High boots. I place them on the boot tray so they don’t drip and stain the hardwood floor. Tonight, I am having dinner with my mother, and I am secretly praying her new husband Robert doesn’t show up.

  I walk to the fridge and grab a Greek yogurt to tide me over until I leave again in an hour and a half.

  Since I have been back to my home in the city, I have been exhausted emotionally and physically. Thomas took a red-eye out of Ithaca hours after our phone conversation. He didn’t text, didn’t call. He simply left. I tried to call, and I tried to text, but they were never answered or returned.

  Harper told me to give it time. I told her I wasn’t giving it anything. I was chalking it up to yet another mistake on my part.

  Luke seemed to have flipped a switch. He seemed … happy, comfortable, like he was actually enjoying his time home for the first time in seven years. On New Year’s Eve after Dad’s birthday dinner at Harper and Maddox’s and Piper had gone to bed, we all went to Jade and Ryan’s. All of us laughed as we watched old videos of our families at parties, on vacations. And, of course, there was me in a pink tutu and a crown, and Luke was as much a man as he is today.

  He has always had that way about him: always the protector, always seeming to think of others. The difference between then and now is the light. The sparkle that was once in his blue eyes, the one that drew you to seek him out, is now gone. I couldn’t help thinking I had something to do with that.

  I tossed aside the crown and tried to grow up too damn fast, and when I did, it took his light with it. That feeling—that reality—broke my heart just as much as he broke mine on Christmas.

  When Logan and I left that night, I hugged Luke as I always did, and he hugged me back more tightly this time—I think, anyway. I don’t know what is real and imagined in the story of Luke and me anymore, and that is one hell of a pill to swallow.

  I broke us. I broke that little girl who was as much a princess in her head as she was treated by all around her, and in doing that, I broke that sweet, protective knight. I will never forgive myself for it. Not ever.

  He left on New Year’s day, heading to Fort Bragg, and then he was off on another mission in the Middle East. I pray for him, and not the version of him I had imagined would be mine someday, but the version of him that was truly mine from as far back as I can remember.

  In allowing myself to imagine us together forever, I stole the beauty in the reality of what we were: a knight and a princess, friends, and yes, family.

  I sit in the window overlooking the city, thinking about the truths about love for the millions and millions of people in just this small area of this world, and it crushes me.

  I set the yogurt down and grab the journal Jade gave me, deciding I would write the truths about love today.

  Love is brutal. Love is beautiful. Love i
s broken. Nine words and my tears have found their way back to me. Three truths, and I can’t eat. How can one word mean so many things?

  T was wrong! Love is not just love. With him, I could have gotten through this. He was wrong about not hurting me, too. Damn him.

  I reach up, tempted to pull the deflated smiling sunshine balloon I hung in my window down. It serves as a reminder of the last time I felt true joy in my heart, even when I was at the lowest point in my entire life.

  Hope.

  I decide to leave it since the sun hasn’t shined in days. I am sure I lack in good old vitamin D. I can pretend it’s the real sun, just like I pretended my love for Luke was real love.

  I get up and toss my half-eaten yogurt in the garbage and sob. I sob because of who I am, who I was, and who I convinced myself I could be. I sob so hard I make myself sick.

  After throwing up, the dry heaves begin, and after they stop, I climb in my bed and fall asleep.

  ***

  Mom’s call wakes me. She is in her car outside of my apartment.

  I throw my hair up in a bun as I shove my feet in my boots. Then I grab my coat and purse and ride down the elevator as I use my phone’s selfie mode to wipe the smudges of mascara from under my eyes.

  I look like hell as I get in the car, and when I see Robert, I feel sick again. God, how could she go from Dad to that son of a bitch?

  “60 East, 65th street,” Robert tells the driver.

  “Ava, you look well,” Mom says, her nose stuck in her tablet. When she looks up, she looks like she could die.

  “I feel lovely,” I say, sitting back in the leather seat.

  She looks at Robert. “How about we head to the Spotted Pig?”

  As she says it, I look in my mirror at my splotchy face, wiping makeup off my face. I can’t help laughing.

  Over the past few years, my mother has changed in a big way. Her cracks don’t mean a damn thing to me, but mine, they send her to the … moon.

  “The Red Moon on West 54th has amazing sushi,” I say, smiling brightly.

  Her lips turn into a straight line.

  Logan had a few months where it was very hard for him to deal with my mother’s new life. He was the one who came up with moon face. He also asked that she not breed—and yes, he said “breed”—with Robert because he didn’t think he could possibly love or even pretend to love something that resembled him. She was so angry at him she didn’t talk to him for a month.

 

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