Keeping Ava

by Elena M. Reyes

  “So, no parental figures?”

  “All asleep upstairs.”

  “Did they come in through a gate?”

  “Our neighborhood was a relatively safe neighborhood, so it wasn’t a high priority for my dad to lock it. Hell, most nights it stayed wide open as did the family’s across the street and even Anthony’s.” We were stupid. Too trusting. I’ve learned the hard way that security in itself is fickle and can be taken at the snap of a finger. “And that night they did just that, strolled on in and took a seat on either side of us. How they knew we were there? I still have no clue or why the late-night visit, but you can imagine who I got stuck with.”

  “Jason Ripley.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ask them to leave?”

  “No, and I’ve regretted that decision.” I open my eyes and look at him, let him see all of me. Please don’t be angry with me. Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly and continue. “At first, it was weird, but a tiny bit cool. You know what it’s like at that age...the thought of someone older wanting to hang out makes you feel as though you’re the shit. They were somewhat cute, and seventeen—mature in our eyes—and struck up a conversation out of nowhere...asking questions and wishing me a happy birthday. We felt popular and important.”

  “When did it get out of hand?” he asks, thumb rubbing across my knuckles.

  “About thirty minutes into the impromptu visit, they pulled out a joint and lit up. They tried to puff puff pass, but I said no while Rose went for it. You can imagine it didn’t turn out so great for her when she coughed up a lung on her first hit, but hey, Anthony was rubbing her back, so she was on cloud nine.”

  “Then what? No one smelled the weed?”

  “Not when it’s a semi windy night and all windows are closed. To everyone it’s just boys being boys and listening to music at home while staying out of trouble.”

  “Trusting parents.”

  “Exactly,” I say lowly and nod. “Then, after they tossed away the end, Anthony asked Rose if she wanted something to drink.” I lick my dry lips and pull my hand from his as I grab my bottle to take another sip, trying to distract myself from the slight shaking of my limbs. “Of course, she jumped at the chance to walk next door. No matter how much I begged her with my eyes, she had blinders on and left me without thinking twice.” My heart races and palms sweat. My breathing gets a tiny bit choppy. “It happened so fast. One second I’m watching Rose walk past my gate, and the next I’m on the paved ground with Jason on top of me. I went to scream, and his hand covered my mouth, body pressing against mine.” I’ve waited long enough, Ava. No more. “Beneath his hand I yelled for him to get off, and just when I thought he would, the asshole brought his face closer and I froze. His lips stopped just a hair’s breadth from mine as his hand traveled lower, stopping a few inches from my chest. I remember my eyes watering and the feel of his breath on my face...the stench of cheap beer and weed made me nauseous. I was so scared and—”

  “You don’t have to continue, Ava. I can put it together, sweetheart,” Elijah murmurs against my neck, and that’s when I realize that I’m no longer on the bench but sitting astride his lap. I’m in his embrace. Moreover, I don’t want to move or get up because right now, this is exactly what I need. He soothes me. “Just breathe in and out for me. That’s it. Slowly.”

  “I’m okay.” My voice sounds off to my own ears. A tiny bit panicky, and yet, the more my body follows the rise and fall of his chest against my arm, the tension drains. Breathing gets easier. “He didn’t get to finish, Eli. Jason moved to touch me and I reacted, driving my knee as hard as I could into his balls. In agony, he rolled off and I took the opportunity to run inside and lock the door.”

  “That’s my girl.” He goes rigid beneath me. I know he didn’t mean to say that, and I’m not going to make a big deal out of it. Not now. Not when I shared something with him that’s worn me down for years. Elijah clears his throat and mutters a low Christ. “And Rose?”

  “Came back a few minutes later swooning over her first kiss.” Elijah lets out a small groan as I shift in his lap, covering it with cough. It’s a horrible sound, and I almost laugh. I would even find it mortifyingly hilarious if I didn’t feel so drained after my confession.

  “She wasn’t a good friend,” he says, and the tinge of anger in his tone warms my heart. It shouldn’t, but it does.

  “Trust me, I know.”

  After a few minutes of silence, Elijah nudges me with his shoulder. “Want to get out of here? Do something fun?”

  That’s one way to change the topic. “Is that your way of saying enough with the heavy?” It’s my attempt at a joke, but neither of us laugh.

  “It’s my way of saying I need to see you smile again.” Turning my face toward his with the tips of two fingers, he raises a brow. “How can I make you happy, Ava? How can I make it better?”

  You already are. I almost say it. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I chicken out.

  My face heats up, and my emotions are all over the place. From scared to angry to happy to in lo—

  “Baking,” I blurt out before completing that thought. A thought there is no going back from. “I miss baking.”

  The hot water pelts down my back inside his shower. I’m sitting down on the floor, knees to my chest as I process today. The tears have stopped, yet my emotions feel out of whack.

  Everything we shared continues to replay in my head:

  What he told me. What I confessed. What I still haven’t.

  As I grew up, Jason’s attention always lingered. Looks, trying to hold my hand, punching my first boyfriend in the face for kissing my cheek after a school dance. My parents and friends all thought that it was him seeing me as a little sister—being protective because that’s the bullshit line he fed them.

  My only solace came from him never trying to touch me again. Just that once.

  His moving away gave me peace, but the return was deceiving. I thought he took my rejection well.

  I’ll come for you...

  This nightmare will never end. Realizing that this is a lost cause is a punch to the gut and another sob catches in my throat, causing me to bite down hard on my bottom lip so Elijah doesn’t hear me.

  I’m screwed no matter which way I turn.

  It’s why I’ve been hiding in here since we came back to his apartment. Avoiding. Trying to make amends with a puzzle full of broken pieces that fits within its new perimeters. It’s not supposed to.

  I’m not supposed to think past surviving, and yet, I do. Want to.

  With him, I have hope. Have a chance at something uniquely normal, and it’s scary because how can I think of more when I don’t know what tomorrow will bring?

  Will they take me from here too?

  Will Jason get to me?

  Will Elijah be there past this?

  And yet, despite all those lingering questions, there’s a blooming force growing within that scares the bejeebers out of me.

  A woman running for her life shouldn’t be focusing on her handler. I shouldn’t like how good he feels against me. How much I want to kiss him.

  How much I want all of this to be over so I can focus on the after. On the chance for something more.

  Will I be alive to celebrate my birthday next month? A somewhat sobering thought.

  My heart aches for all the families he’s destroyed. For the lives taken because I didn’t speak up when I should have.

  “Why did I ever listen to you, Rose?”

  “Where the hell have you been?” I whisper harshly, wiping away a tear as I wait at the now locked gate for her. The minute a hobbling Jason left, I ran out and closed it, standing watch and listening closely for any screams. I’ve sent her multiple messages, called her phone, and was seconds away from yelling for my dad when she walks back over.

  Alone and smiling.

  Chill. I’ll be right over. ~Rosie

  I didn’t tell on her, and it’s all because of that single te
xt. That, and the fact that I still don’t know how to process what happened.

  Maybe it’s the shock. My anger and confusion.

  The fear. Disgust.

  “You’re being a Debbie Downer when I’ve just had the best night of my life, chick.”

  “Are you kidding me right now? What you did was unsafe, Rose.” My heart’s still beating fast and my limbs are jittery—the area around my jaw is sore from Jason’s hold. “What were you thinking?”

  “That he’s hot. That I like his attention.” She giggles, touching the right side of her neck with the tips of her fingers. “Don’t be mad, but I was busy enjoying myself. He’s so amazing, Ava, and—”

  “Jason forced himself on me,” I blurt out, choking back a sob. A harsh shudder runs down my spine; I feel disgusting. Can still smell him on me. “He knocked me down and climbed on top of me. Pressed himself while covering my mouth with his hand...I couldn’t scream.”

  “Are you sure?” She’s still smiling, nudging my shoulder as if I’m joking with her. “It’s probably a huge misunderstanding. A dick move, yes, but I’m sure Jason’s just messing with you.”

  “He tried to—”

  “No, he didn’t.” Rose grabs my hand then, her eyes pleading. “Don’t ruin this for me, please. He’s my future boyfriend’s best friend, and no one will believe you.”

  “What the—”

  “Ava?” Elijah calls out, tapping gently on the bathroom’s door. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m almost out.” Standing, my muscles protest from being in one position for a while. God knows how long, and as I rush to lather and rinse off using his shower gel, again, it hurts. My legs are half asleep, and I hold onto the small built-in alcove for balance. “Give me five.”

  “Take your time. I’m actually going to—”

  “Can’t hear you! One sec,” I yell out, slightly panicking. Turning the temperature knob to a cooler setting, I dip my face beneath the water to wash away the tears that I’ve shed, hoping any redness calms down enough that I’m not questioned.

  It takes a few minutes for me to regain full feeling and then turn the water off, grabbing a towel as I step out. Cool air hits my skin and I shiver, tightening the fluffy fabric around me.

  He’s still just outside of this door. I can hear the heavy steps of his boots on the wooden floors.

  I know when he stops just outside the door again. Hear the ringing of his phone. It starts and then stops, only to start all over again.

  “Motherfuck,” Eli spits out, and I have a feeling it has everything to do with whomever is calling. “Sweetheart, I need to—” he trails off as I open the door, stopping in front of him in a terry cloth robe. I’m not trying to tempt him, but there’s no choice but to step out like this again when I left my clothing inside my room.

  The same electrical currents flows between us—the palpable hunger and intensity from the last time—yet we don’t react.

  Instead, his body tenses and jaw ticks, but his eyes remain on mine. Ever the gentleman, and I appreciate it.

  Now’s not the time. We can’t be. I can’t.

  No matter how much my body yearns for his arms to hold me. For him to comfort me.

  “You need to leave, and something happened.”

  Elijah swallows hard, giving me a small nod. “He’s been spotted in Arizona.”

  “Go on. I’m fine.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Ava.”

  “I will be when you find him.” It’s the best I can do, and his expression tells me he understands.

  Elijah takes a few steps in my direction, closing the gap between us. My skin prickles in anticipation at his nearness. For a minute or two the man looks at me with so much warmth that it creates butterflies in my stomach. Soothes my fragile soul.

  It also makes my lips lift into a tiny smile no matter how much I try to fight it. I lose myself in his stare.

  “I’m going to give you your life back one surprise at a time.” Bringing a hand to my face, he cups my chin and rubs his thumb across my rosy cheek. “Please enjoy my kitchen while I’m gone.”

  That’s all he says before walking away and out the door. It’s confusing. Leaves me breathless.

  Wait...his kitchen?

  Chapter 10

  Ava

  As soon as I’m dressed, I rush out to the kitchen and upon entering, stop dead in my tracks.

  Oh.

  My.

  GOD!

  “How? When?” Every single inch of counter space is full of items—baking necessities to make some of my most favorite creations. From pots and pans to sugar and flour—chocolate and fondant and even my favorite kind of piping gun set.

  A giddiness I haven’t felt for months blooms deep inside my chest with the rush of a freight train. It helps me push away every negative thought—momentarily bury the nightmare I’m residing within into the back of my mind as ideas form. As another reality takes center stage.

  It slams into me, and I can’t stop the tears from forming or the small, sob-like giggle that escapes. This thoughtful act touches me in a way that nothing else has before. My heart beats rapidly inside my chest and my body feels light, as if I’m floating, and as I see a small note attached to a bag of semi-sweet dark chocolate, everything becomes clear as day.

  I have no idea how it happened or why, but it did. I am.

  My desire for him grows and feelings morph. When this is all over, the flip-flopping emotions are going to give me a mental breakdown.

  It’s bad and oh so good and dangerous. Could be fatal for me. For him.

  “I fell for him.” Even as I say the words aloud, the truth behind them is undeniable. This is romance-book fast and makes no sense, but I did. I walk to the island and pick up the note, reading his quick words. They’re simple and sweet, and that butterfly fluttering in my belly takes off at a rapid speed, making a smile stretch across my lips.

  Go nuts, sweetheart. Have fun.

  AND most importantly, I like all things chocolate.

  Yours, Eli

  “He’s freaking adorable,” I whisper to myself and then turn on my heels toward his office. After my fail at avoidance and our truce, Elijah offered me the use of his laptop anytime I need it.

  Well, today I need it.

  I have a Google folder full of recipes, and one in particular is calling my name. It’s a chocolate and hazelnut torte with a hint of spiced rum that is to die for. My mother came up with this recipe when I was twelve, but over the years I’ve tweaked it—made it my own with an alcohol glaze each of the seven layers gets bathed in.

  His personal laptop is on his desk; however, I notice the files from earlier and his work computer are now gone. Don’t think about that. Don’t ruin the moment.

  “Right. Get the recipe, and for the rest of the day pretend that everything is perfect. Enjoy his generosity and gift.” Or as best I can. And I plan too, but my curiosity is also tingling, and instead, I take the opportunity to snoop a tiny bit.

  See more of Elijah.

  The room is a decent size and decorated with a warm sandy color on the wall and a white trim. A desk sits in the middle of the room with a wall of bookcases behind it, both in a dark and rich wood finish. On the left is a small table that holds what looks to be a signed basketball and a football helmet: teams in the state of California.

  There’s also a rug and a large picture of some sort of mechanical item that I can’t identify.

  Other than that, he has a lot of books: on his shelf, on the left side of his desk, and stacked high on the chair opposite his work area.

  I love it.

  My feet carry me to his shelf, and I inspect the titles there, noticing that he owns a few of my favorite classics. There are also a few mysteries and psychological thrillers. The one that catches my eye, though, is a very worn copy of the Art of War.

  Taking it in my hands, I open to the first few pages and notice his notes within. From a favorite line to his interpretation, he’s made it a mission to de
cipher each word into a way that works along with his way of thinking.

  It’s endearing and as I read a few, I find myself smiling.

  “Too cute.” Placing it back on the shelf, I take notice of a picture on the next shelf. There’s no denying the younger version of himself wearing a graduation cap from his high school, and the woman beside him has to be his mother. They look so much alike—black hair and hazel eyes and wide, infectious smiles. She looks so proud, and he’s letting her have her moment.

  He really is perfect.

  I move onto another, and it’s him at his academy graduation. A younger version, but more of a man—bulkier and with less of a baby face. Here he’s all well-defined jawline and kissable lips, strong arms and sexy eyes.

  You came here for a recipe, not to drool over a picture.

  “Right. Recipe.” Taking a few steps back, I turn around and sit down in his chair. There’s no password, so I’m inside and typing my email information within seconds. The very moment it opens, things change for me and the happiness I’ve felt since walking into his kitchen evaporates. There are hundreds of unopened emails, and all from the same address.

  Each subject line is more desperate—angrier than the next as my eyes skim down the page.

  “How the hell has he been able to do this?” Clicking on the arrow that takes me to the very last page, I look at the dates and realize that some of these go as far back as Jason’s time in custody. Multiple times a day. Every single day. “No. I’m not going to look at this anymore.” Leaving the emails, I get up and rush out of the room. I’ll wing the dessert. It’s better for me that way. “I’m safe, and Elijah won’t let anything happen to me.”