14. Ed
14
ED
I stand in the living area taking in the piles of boxes that take up the space in front of the bookshelf. Over the past week, Avery has helped clear out the living room, the kitchen, and the spare bedroom. I’ve gone through most of Jake’s gear stored in the attic, and tonight we’re tackling the only place left. Jake’s bedroom.
I hear footsteps outside and open the door before Avery can knock. She’s wearing my sweater and my gaze flicks down her body, taking in the way her breasts push up against the fabric and how it hangs over her legging-clad thighs. She tried to give it back, but I insisted she keep it. I like her in my sweater.
I open the door wide, and she follows me into the house.
“It was a good session today.”
She refers to the appointment I had with her at the clinic. I’ve been doing the exercises she gives me, but my damn tongue doesn’t move like it should. I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever speak again and if that even matters.
I’ve been getting on fine without talking. I spend my days clearing land for Joel and listening to Marcus and Hudson’s banter.
It feels good doing physical work, and I don’t need my voice for that.
The evenings are spent with Avery clearing Jake’s things. Avery doesn’t seem to mind my silence, and I like listening to her chatter.
“I bought another outfit for Noah from Gina. Paige says he’s got enough, but it was just too cute.” She tells me about the baby booties, and I watch her talk. I enjoy hearing the smile in her voice and seeing the light in her eyes.
I fix a pot of coffee and pour it into two mugs, adding cream and sugar for Avery. I slide the mug in front of her and she looks down at it, stopping mid-sentence.
This is the routine we’ve gotten into. She comes in and chats to me about her day while I make coffee. Once the coffee is made, we get to work on Jake’s things.
But tonight she stares down at the coffee like she doesn’t want it. The light fades from her eyes, and her shoulders sag. She feels the same way I do about tackling Jake’s bedroom.
I take a step toward her and chuck my finger under her chin, tilting her head up so she has to look at me.
I want to tell her I’m here for her, that we’ll do it together, but my mouth can’t form the words. Instead, I move my hand to her shoulder and give it a squeeze.
She searches my face and must see the reassurance I’m trying to convey.
She takes a deep breath and picks up her mug. “Let’s do this.”
I follow Avery up the stairs and into Jake’s room. We pause on the threshold, and I take Avery’s hand. She glances up at me and her eyes are wet. I squeeze her hand, and we walk into the room together.
I haven’t been in here since I took over the house, and it smells musty. It’s a cool night, but I pull the curtains back and open a window to let in fresh air.
Avery sets her coffee down on a coaster on the bedside table and looks around. “Where do we start?”
I figure the wardrobe will be the least painful, so I pull open the doors. Jake’s clothes hang with military order, t-shirts to the left and pants to the right. A neat row of shoes sits on the bottom shelf, and a rucksack sits tucked into the corner.
“They can all go to Goodwill. It doesn’t feel right to auction his clothes.”
I nod my agreement.
It’s a double wardrobe and we work side by side, taking clothes off hangers, folding them, and putting them into a black garbage bag.
It doesn’t take long to clear the wardrobe. Like most military men I know, Jake kept to the basics: simple, practical wear.
Once the wardrobe is clear, Avery starts on a chest of drawers. It’s more clothes and an easy one for her.
I check under the bed and find a storage box. It’s got papers in it, mostly bills. Under the bills is a bundle of letters with a rubber band around them.
It’s Jake’s writing on the front, and they’re addressed to a Sofia Eaves.
I hold the letters up to Avery and she takes the bundle off me, frowning.
“Sofia Eaves.” She reads the name. “I don’t know who that is.”
She undoes the rubber band and rifles through the envelopes. “Who writes letters these days?”
Jake does, apparently. Avery looks as confused about them as I do. She peers inside the envelope, and there’s a handwritten letter inside.
“Why would Jake write letters to someone? Unless he had a girlfriend we didn’t know about.” She frowns, probably thinking the same thing I am. Jake would have told me if there was someone special. We shared everything.
Or I thought we did.
I take the letters off her and tie the rubber band around them. The family can keep them and do with them what they will.
The next item in the box is a worn-looking photo album. Avery peers over my shoulder and gasps.
“This is from when we were kids.”
Her hand goes to her throat, and her eyes go wet. She reaches for the album, and I stop her hand.
Are you sure? I want to ask. This is sure to be painful, and I want to shield her from that.
She blinks rapidly, banishing the tears.
“I want to look Ed,” she says softly. “But not here.”
I carry the box downstairs and put it on the sofa. I picked up a gray throw from the store to drape over the sofa so it looks less like Jake’s.
Avery pulls out the album, and I sit next to her.
She takes a deep breath and opens the first page. A young Shona smiles at the camera, holding a pink-faced baby whose face is screwed up in a cry.
“Jake’s baby pictures,” Avery says softly. “Mom will want these.”
Next to the baby photo, there’s one of a toddler sitting on a colorful rug with the baby in his lap. He drapes one hand protectively over the baby. I’d pick out Amos anywhere. Even as a three-year-old, his expression is as serious as always.
The first several pages are the two of them with their parents. In a stroller, on the swings at the park. Jake looks terrified as his mom holds him on Santa’s knee. The baby grows into a chubby toddler smiling at the camera while his brother has a permanent frown.
Each page tracks Jake’s growth from a toddler to a boy. There’s Jake’s 5 th birthday party with a red fire engine cake, the boys standing with their dad in his Navy uniform, Jake in a white softball uniform, then standing proudly with his dad, a hunting rifle between them. There are more birthday parties, and a few pages later, Shona’s holding another baby.
“There’s me.” Avery smiles at the picture of her mom in a tight white t-shirt and baggy jeans, sitting on a picnic blanket holding Avery while the boys sit beside her.
Jake is smiling at his baby sister, while Amos, a grumpy adolescent, looks off camera.
The next few pages are mostly of the kids. Avery growing into a chubby toddler. Jake’s 10 th birthday party, the cake a green army tank, the kids dressed for Halloween.
Avery’s hand pauses on the page, and when I glance at her, tears slide down her cheeks. She lets out a heart wrenching sob, and her shoulders slump.
Gently I take the photo album out of her hands and place it back in the box. That’s enough for tonight.
I brought several boxes of tissues to keep around the house, and I pluck one from the box by the sofa.
Avery takes it and swipes it over her eyes. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
A sob erupts from her chest, and I pull her into me. One arm goes around her shoulders and the other draws her into my body. My heart aches for Avery, and I wish I could take all the hurt away.
She leans against my chest, and I rub the backs of her shoulders as the grief consumes her.
After a few minutes the sobs turn to sniffles. She peers up at me with red raw eyes.
“Why did he join the military?” Her fists bang against my chest looking for answers. “Why do any of you join?”
She’s not expecting an answer. She grew up in a military family. I expect Jake’s reasons for signing up differed from mine.
He followed in his dad’s and brother’s footsteps. The Monroe family are proud patriots. They’re good people. Jake had a sense of duty and of honor. He signed up because he answered the call to serve.
For me, it was different. At least at first. I signed up because the judge said it was that or juvie. They gave me one chance, and I took it. Some of the kids I ran around with joined the army, so I joined the Navy. I wanted a fresh start.
Patriotism and duty came later. The Navy gave me discipline like I’d never had before. It pushed me in new ways and gave me a sense of purpose, a chance to be a part of something. By the time I graduated as a SEAL, I was ready to die for my teammates. That’s what the Navy gave me. A place to belong.
Avery pushes against my chest, and I release my hold so she can look up at me. “Why did it have to be Jake?”
I rub her back, absorbing her pain. I’ve asked myself the same question a hundred times. Why not me?
If it was me, no one would be in pain, no one would grieve. I would have served my country and died with honor, which is more than I ever thought possible for a foster kid from Kentucky.
But Jake left behind a world of pain.
I can’t convey any of this to Avery. I can’t take her pain away. But I can comfort her.
She bunches her hands into fists and thumps my chest.
I stop her fists, and she struggles against me.
“Why Jake, why Jake, why Jake?” she says repeatedly.
I hold her until she stills and suddenly she’s breathing hard, her face inches from mine. Our eyes lock. Then she leans in and presses her lips to mine.
Avery’s lips on mine are persistent and firm and everything I’ve been imagining for the last several weeks. Ever since I saw her at Jake’s funeral.
A better man would pull away. A better man would not take advantage of her grief. But instead of pulling away, my palm slides up to her neck, cupping her head in my palm. The kiss deepens, and my tongue moves lazily to explore her sweet mouth.
The shuddering stops, and her body relaxes as a moan escapes her lips. It jolts me back to reality and all the reasons this can’t happen.
I pull away, and Avery grabs my cheeks in her hands. “Don’t do that, Ed. Don’t pull away from me.”
Her eyes are red and raw from crying and full of pain and pleading. “Don’t deny this attraction between us, Ed.”
I glance behind me, looking for the notebook, desperate to communicate why this is a bad idea. Because she’s raw from grief, because she’s my best friend’s little sister, because I might have gotten her brother killed, and because if I kiss her again, I might not be able to stop.
Avery clasps my arm with a vice-like grip. “I don’t want to read all your excuses why you shouldn’t kiss me.” She pulls my head around to face her.
“I need this, Ed.” Her eyes are pleading, and it makes my chest ache to see her in pain. “When I kiss you I forget. Help me forget.”
Her lips brush against my cheek and I close my eyes, inhaling her feminine scent of citrus and soap.
Her lips press the corner of my lips, the side without the scar, and the tenderness makes my chest ache.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” she whispers. “Just kiss me. Kiss me until I don’t feel anything.”
My breath comes in shallow puffs, and my dick aches with need. It’s been a long time since I was intimate with a woman, and having Avery this close is driving me wild. I’m not sure how much more I can take without giving into my need for her.