8. Avery
8
AVERY
L ight rain mists up the living room window, making the house across the street appear hazy. It’s been two days since the will reading, and I haven’t seen Ed come out of Jake’s house. Ed’s house, I remind myself.
If it wasn’t for the dim glow of orange light coming from the attic, I’d assume the place was still empty.
“Have you decided what to do with it yet, hon?” Mom leans on the back of the chair next to me.
I draw my gaze away from the house across the street and glance at my laptop. Numbers dance on the page, and I rub my eyes.
I’ve been trying to get my head around the investments Jake left me. I didn’t know he was putting so much money away. The house, the investments. My brother planned for a future he’ll never get to have.
Mom’s hand rests on my shoulder, and the warmth of her touch is comforting.
I’m glad I moved back here when I took the job at Hope Medical Center. I haven’t lived with my parents since before I went away to college, and staying here was supposed to be temporary. But I’m in no hurry to move out now. I couldn’t leave Mom and Dad on their own, and I’m glad they’re here. We’re going through our grief together and comforting each other.
I glance out at the dark house across the road. Who does Ed have to comfort him?
Jake told me once that Ed grew up in foster care. I can’t imagine what that’s like. Ed has lost his best friend and his career. I won’t let him go through this alone.
I push my chair back and stand up. “I’m going across the road.”
Mom smiles. “I told Ed he was welcome here anytime, but I know his type. He won’t come over without an invitation. Invite him for diner tomorrow night, honey. It will be nice to have the company.”
The gate swings open too wide, and I flinch as it bangs against the fence. If Ed didn’t see me coming, he’ll have heard me now. It shouldn’t make me nervous, but my stomach flutters as I take the path to Jake’s house. Ed’s house.
In one hand is the peace lily I picked up at the store yesterday as a housewarming gift. With the other hand, I knock on the door. It opens immediately, and my stomach does a double flip. Ed takes up the entire door frame. His dark hair falls in shaggy waves over his eyes, and there’s a layer of stubble over his chin. It doesn’t cover the long scar from the surgery.
He stares at me with his intense brooding gaze that draws me in like a magnet.
“Hi,” I say.
He doesn’t respond, and I squirm under his gaze for two sharp breaths before I remember why I came. “I bought you a housewarming present.”
I hold up the peace lily, needing to put something between us. I’m not sure if Ed was always this intense or if his silence makes him more so.
He doesn’t move, and I wonder if he’s going to continue being an ass like he was at our first therapy session.
“Can I come in?” If he wants to be an ass, he’ll have to communicate his ass-ery. I won’t let him be rude by default of his silence.
He steps away from the door, and I take that as a sign to enter.
The place is exactly how I remember it. Jake’s coat hangs by the door, and his old sneakers that he wore around the garden are by the doorway. The heel is pushed down as if he’s just toed them off.
My hand goes to my mouth as pain erupts in my chest.
The grief strikes me, and my knees go weak. I put a hand out to steady myself on the wall, but instead I find Ed. He’s suddenly beside me with an arm around my shoulders, propping me up. With his other arm he takes the plant off me and places it on the entrance table. Then he guides me to the living room and onto the sofa. Jake’s sofa, with his old Navy sweater thrown over the back.
Nothing has changed. Ed may have moved in, but nothing has changed since Jake was here.
A sob erupts from my chest and rattles my body.
I’ve learned grief is like this. It hits you out of nowhere. All I can do is ride the tsunami of pain as it crashes over me, battering me against the rocks of my heartache.
I let the emotions come out in huge body-shaking sobs. Ed pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me. Through my sobs, I notice the steady beat of his heart and the smooth rhythm of his palm as it moves in circles over my back.
My breathing slows to match his, and the waves of grief subside.
Ed’s silence is reassuring. And as the grief ebbs away, embarrassment sets in. I came over to check in on him, to make sure he wasn’t suffering alone. I’m not supposed to break down in front of him.
My tears turn to sniffles, and Ed grabs a tissue out of his pocket. He tilts my chin up to face him and dabs the tissue over my tear-stained cheeks.
I must look hideous with puffy eyes and tears streaking down my cheeks. I try to turn my head away, but Ed captures my chin in his palm. His gaze finds mine, and he fixes me with a compassionate but stern expression as he gently wipes away the tears.
It’s an intimate gesture, and my heartbeat races as his breath warms my face.
I take the tissue from him sit back on the couch. “Sorry.”
He frowns and shakes his head.
I don’t need his words to understand what he’s saying. He doesn’t want me to apologize. But I want to explain.
“I didn’t expect to see all of Jake’s things.” I blow my nose in a less than ladylike fashion, but I’ve just sobbed on his shoulder and he’s wiped away my tears. I’m beyond trying to be ladylike. “It just hit me. You know?”
Ed nods, and his sad expression tells me he does know. He must feel it too. Which reminds me why I’m here.
“I wanted to check and see if you were settling in okay.” He sits back on the couch, but one hand remains on my arm. I like the warmth coming from him. It’s comforting.
“We’re just across the road. I moved back into my old room when I got back from college. Just until I can get some money together to find a place…”
I trail off, because I have money now. I have Jake’s investments. I could put down a deposit on a home, or I could pay off my student debt, or I could keep investing it for retirement. I squeeze my fingers into my forehead, because that’s too much to think about right now.
Ed squeezes my arm, and I glance up at him. He gets off the couch and goes into the kitchen. I wonder if I should follow him, but he comes back with his notepad and a pen.
He scribbles something and holds it up for me to read.
You can have the house.
I put my hands over my chest and shake my head. I don’t know why Jake left Ed the house, but it was his wish and I respect that.
“No.” I shake my head. “That’s not what I meant. I wouldn’t leave Mom and Dad right now anyway.”
His brows knit together, and I can tell he’s not happy about the house.
“We don’t want the house, Ed. Jake left it to you. My family respect his wishes. It’s yours.”
He frowns and scribble something on the paper.
Even Amos?
“Yes. Even Amos. Amos only cares about one thing. Getting back to wherever the hell you guys were and getting the guys who killed our brother.”
Ed’s eyes darken, and it seems like he’d like to do the same thing. But instead he’s stuck here. In a house he doesn’t want surrounded by a dead man’s things.
“Do you want to have dinner tomorrow night?”
His eyes widen, and I realize what I’ve said sounds like I’m asking him out.
Heat creeps up my neck and I ramble on, not looking at him. “I mean, at our house. Mom’s cooking chicken pot pie, and we’d love to see you.”
I steal a glance, and he looks uncertain. “Mom would like to see you,” I blurt. Ed won’t turn down an invitation from Mom., It would be bad manners.
He nods once, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
I tell myself it’s because I’m pleased he’s getting out of the house because he doesn’t have to grieve on his own. It’s not because my heart races whenever I see him, and my body turns to jelly at his touch.