41 | The Storm
I blink more times than I can count but he doesn't go away.
Every fragmented memory, every piece of him that still lingers, has materialised in front of me.
It hits me like a fucking truck. Air is knocked out my lungs, words suffocating in my throat.
Sickness claws its way through my stomach, large and unavoidable.
Everything around me blurs, fades into nothing, even Nolan disappears.
He looks the same, or worse, I can't tell.
Greasy brown hair falling limply across his forehead, the same shade as his uneven stubble.
His clothes are crumpled, large hoodie falling off his shoulders, jeans littered with faint stains.
Wrinkles sag under his eyes as his lips twitch, close enough to a smile that my body stiffens completely.
"Ava..." He murmurs. It's that same tone he had on the phone call. The word bounces around my head, throws back faint childhood memories.
How did he know I was here?
Was he following me?
The world narrows as my dad takes a step closer, only slightly, but Nolan's large body bolts in front of me before he can even get a fraction further. I can still see his face, those eyes the same shade as mine. It makes my stomach spin.
"Who's this?" He pushes out, voice almost croaky, "A boyfriend?"
I can feel Nolan's muscles tense in front of me, propelling him into full defensive mode. I want to say something, want to help, but my tongue has become completely useless. I watch my dad huff a strained laugh.
"Guess I've missed out on a few things, huh?"
A few things? Is he serious?
He's trying to joke but it all sounds stiff and stale to me, like nails on a chalkboard. He doesn't get to care, he doesn't get to know things about my life.He can't just fucking turn up out of nowhere!
His foot steps forwards again, edging closer, but Nolan's hand flies out immediately, a warning. "Don't move."
I'm still frozen, still wordless, still trying to make sense of the chaos. City noise blurs into something numbed and my vision stings, like maybe I should be crying but can't even process the emotions that would lead to that.
"What do you want?" Nolan asks, carefully. He doesn't know what my dad did, what he's like, why I don't want him in my life. But he knows enough to hold me steady behind him, fill his voice with brittle venom that doesn't even sound like him at all.
My dad pauses, like he wants to tell Nolan to mind his business, but he instead focuses his attention on me, our eyes meeting. They're withered, filled with an irreparable ache, like some sparkle has been missing for years.
"I just want to speak to you, Ava...my beautiful daughter. I'm ready to come back into your life, be the father you've always needed."
Every word is like a spear to my chest, a lie, a flashback to the past. I'm about to choke on my words again but my skin is crawling so hard I find something to say.
"I don't...I don't want you in my life."
My dad doesn't crack. He knew I would say that. He knows, somewhere, that this damage is irreparable.
"I understand why you might say that...I have a lot of things to apologise for," I can feel Nolan trying to read the situation, pick it apart and gain some meaning, "But things are better now, let me show you that everything is better."
I shake my head like a reflex, communicating every thought bouncing around in my brain. I want to scream and cry and curl up into a ball all at the same time. I want my mom, her soft voice and affectionate hugs. I don't want to be here.
"You should leave," Nolan asserts when I'm quiet again.
My dad blanks him completely, "Look, meet me tomorrow, we can have a real conversation... that's all we need, okay? Just you and me-"
"She won't be here tomorrow."
That finally gets his attention, forces him to acknowledge the much taller man hiding me with his presence and finding the words I can't. Nolan won't budge, I know that, especially when he's protecting me.
My only worry is my dad has an insane level of fucking entitlement, one that could challenge Nolan's possessiveness.
"I get that you play a role in Ava's life, but I'm talking to her, not you," My dad says, voice brimming with barely-concealed fake politeness.
He shouldn't have said that.
Nolan takes one intimidating step forward, jaw clenched, hands tensed like they're trying not to make fists. My brain whirrs with images of old Nolan, Nolan with unexplainable bruises. For the first time I wonder if that streak is still in there, that person who got into fights.
"I think she's made it pretty fucking clear she doesn't want to talk to you. Fuck off to wherever you've been being a useless piece of shit instead of harassing your daughter you clearly don't care about."
The words hit me so suddenly, like a slap to the face. It's what I feel, what I should say when faced with my dad.... but they came from Nolan, not me.
I don't know whether to let the part of me that likes this bleed through.
I want to be defended, want to be anything but a spluttery mess when faced with my past. But it's also not worth it, and Nolan's getting progressively closer to my dad the longer time trickles on. Warmth burns in the air around us.
"You gonna let him talk to me like that?" My dad scowls, offended, "A little fucking boyfriend who won't even let you speak for yourself."
Nolan moves forward again, about to reach out but my hand finds his arm, only gently. Still, he pauses, turning back to look at me. There's something dark in his pupils, something swirling and angry and almost not him. It stalls my words for a second.
"Don't," I murmur, "He's not worth it."
It's not just about whether Nolan would actually fight my dad, but about him being different.
Yes, I wouldn't be mad about my dad getting a fist to the face, but by Nolan?
After all of this, cracking open this caring side of him, some of his secrets.
He knows he shouldn't go back to anything violent.
"He might be," Nolan growls under his breath.
My dad groans, "Listen, I just want to talk, make things right. I don't appreciate being insulted...but this is about you. We could be a family again, a real family."
His words hang in the air, caught between his pleading face, my touch only holding Nolan back in principal and my own thoughts. The sickness still swirls in my chest but something has settled.
This isn't working, this isn't a solution.
I don't believe him, don't want to forgive him, but maybe listening to his soulless plea might make him leave me alone. If I reject him, to his face, maybe he'll finally get the fucking hint.
"Fine. I'll talk to you," I croak out.
The air stiffens. Nolan's face flickers into one of heated concern, my dad pauses mid rambling sentence.
"But right here, right now," I insist, gulping down any regret.
"Are you sure you don't want to-"
"I'll give you five minutes."
His mouth opens, then closes, then he nods, "If that's what it takes for you to listen to me."
The fake care, the slimy tone covered up by something sweet, makes my skin crawl. His mouth curls into a crooked smile, just like the ones he would give me as a kid. Faint memories claw at the edges of my mind. His promises, the arguments, the late nights.
Before time can hang suspended for any longer Nolan faces me fully, caging me away from my dad for a second. "Is that a good idea?" He hums in a low voice, studying me like I might break.
I attempt a nod, "You're here, right? It's only a few minutes. Maybe if I hear him out he'll stop stalking me."
Nolan runs his tongue across his top row of teeth, thinking. He's not happy about this but with furrowed brows eventually agrees, "Fine. But if he tries anything with you, I'm not holding back."
I nod, before stepping to the side a bit, enclosing all three of us in a slightly hidden alley. We're a bit out of sight, shrouded in shadow as I try to gather all the nerves spilling out of me. It's just a conversation.
My fingers grip the sleeves of Nolan's jacket as I emerge out in front, face to face with my dad properly for the first time in eight years.
I can see him better now, every facial feature, familiar but strange.
The messy hair, creased eyes, dishevelled appearance - it's someone I only really know the shell of.
Nolan hovers back but I can feel him, waiting, watching. He'd be by my side in a split second. Some part of me is dreading that I'm going to have to explain all this to him when it's over.
"How did you find me?" Is my first question.
"A buddy of mine figured out your phone number...said that info isn't all too hard to find..." He hesitates, "And I have people, in Ivefield, who...check up on you and your mom every now and then."
My brain almost explodes, "You have people followingus?"
"Not following...just keeping an eye. You have to understand it hurts to not know what your own kid is doing...not being able to see you, it breaks me, every single day."
"If you didn't have a restraining order then maybe you would be able to see me."
I hear Nolan raise a subtle breath. He's learning these secrets for the first time.
My dad tuts, "That's not important-"
"You're supposed to be staying away from me, from mom. No one kicked you out our lives, you did that to yourself," My words dwindle, losing their power. I try to ignore that cracking in the back of my throat, the threat of tears.
"And I'm sorry, really sorry. I made some stupid decisions that I regret," He pauses, "I'm not that person anymore."
It's hard to believe, hard to comprehend.
He made promises back then, told me over and over that things would get better.
But they got worse. Maybe a small part of me hopes desperately that the man who looked after me as a kid is still in there, my dad.
But then the bad things rush back, the pain, the violence, the drowning. I can't trust him.
"So you're not involved with those people anymore? You don't owe anyone money? You're not addicted to throwing your life away?" I say with my heartbeat jumping out my chest.
His eyebrows crease, hands crossing over his stomach. There's a deep sigh, like he deserves grace before his next explanation. Everything in me sinks, the world narrows to just this moment.
"It's complicated..."
Of course.
"Are you serious?"
"I took out a loan, just to cover some costs for a while..." He can't even look me in the eye. Coward. "I thought if I won big, it would finally get me out of this mess...but I made a loss bigger than I anticipated..."
I can't even make out words, or deal with the memories slicing through this perfect day that's come hurtling down. I remember sitting in my bed at 16, drinking in bed, hoping when I closed my eyes the thoughts of him wouldn't stir beneath my eyelids. I'm so nauseous I could throw up.
"When I can pay this off everything can be normal again, we can be how we used to, Ava."
I hate hearing him say my name.
"What do you even want from me, dad?" It's almost a sob, vicious with all the composure breaking beneath everything, "You haven't even changed, so why do you want me back in your life?"
Nolan inches a step closer behind me, a grounding force. Part of me wishes he'd come forward and hug me completely, let me cry in his arms. I know he'd let me in a heartbeat.
My dad kisses his teeth, like he'd trying to come up with some more bullshit that doesn't sound as bad as it really is.
"The truth," I insist, "No more lies."
"I...wanted to ask you for a couple hundred dollars...to help me back on my feet..."
Whatever dizzying feeling has gripped me spirals downwards and through the floor immediately.
Like the nail in the coffin, he's said the worst thing he possibly could.
Not only is he still the same person, he wants me to fucking fund his life.
After he ruined mine? After he's been stalking me?
"What is wrong with you?" Is all that comes out my mouth, hollowed and raw.
"I know it's a big ask...maybe you could ask your mother-"
"Don't fucking mention her," I hiss back. She put up with him more than I did, she gave him chance after chance and he abused her kindness. Harassing me is one thing, dragging her into this after everything she suffered is just fucking cruel.
"I wanted to apologise to her too, for everything, for how I treated her-"
"You fuckinghurt her," I croak, eyes stinging, "You're not sorry, you don't care about her. You don't deserve mom, or me, or anything."
"Please, it's not like that-"
"Leave me alone. Never contact me again or I'll call the police."
I go to step back, let Nolan deal with my new shell of a person. I can't listen to this, look at his face, hear all these things lacking remorse. But my dad's hand catches my forearm, holding me in place.
I freeze, the bruise grip turning red almost immediately. It stings, my weak first attempt at slipping out the grip nothing under his strength. When I look up his eyes are darker, flared with desperate anger.
"Let me go!"
"Let her go before I do something you're really not gonna like, asshole," Nolan warns, right beside me. I hadn't noticed him move, so quickly beside me. His fists clench and I know it's not an empty threat.
He ignores him, "Ava, you need to hear me out-"
"I don't have to do anything," I tug again, but nothing. His fingers dig harder, claw into my skin.
"You bitch-"
The word doesn't even make it out his mouth before Nolan's fist collides with his face, throwing him backwards and into the floor almost immediately.
The force is instant, shockwaves rippling through the air.
My arms stings, stained with the imprint of unwanted fingers.
I can't speak, watching my dad writhe in pain as blood trickles from his nose.
He sits upwards, cursing loudly as Nolan towers overhead.
"If you speak to her ever again, you'll spend the rest of your life rotting in jail, you understand?" He threatens, pushing his sleeves up his wrist, "Say it."
My dad laughs, but clearly dizzy, maybe even scared. I don't know how just a punch to the face has managed to take him out so easily. He wipes his arm across his nose, smearing blood.
"I'm serious. Promise you'll leave Ava alone, or I'll make a punch to the face seem like a slap on the wrist."
My dad looks defeated, angry, reluctant. He's a stubborn asshole, he'll want to say as much irritating shit as he can, even if it gets him beaten up completely. But when Nolan steps forward, threatening as ever, his face loses any smug edge.
He clears his throat, "Is this really who you want to date?"
Nolan's foot comes down over his hand still planted on the floor, threatening to crush his fingers, "Say. it."
My dad winces, then swears, "Fuck, fine. I'll leave you alone. Jesus fucking christ. You people are insane."
"That wasn't so difficult, was it?"
Nolan looks satisfied, drawing back and leaving my dad abandoned on the floor, still bloody and out of it.
All my words have been wiped from my brain, my stomach so lopsided my senses have melted into one.
He turns, finally addressing me and scooping an arm over my shoulder.
He kisses me lightly on the head and cheek, asking me if I'm okay.
I don't really remember if I answer or not.
The trip back is a blur. I can't make sense of much, or process enough to cry. I keep seeing my dad falling to the ground, his promise to leave me alone which might be the only thing he's ever said that I actually believe. There was some defeat, real fear. Nolan meant it, his threat, all of it.
That clouds my head too, Nolan. When was the last time he ever hurt someone like that?
It picks at the edges of my old memories, the ones where I painted him as this scary guy with a life somewhere in the underworld.
But he's still my Nolan, the guy running a hand over my thigh in the car and softly stroking my hair as he leads me back to the hotel room.
Did my dad bring out his old self? Is it my fault that he went back to that? If it wasn't for my dad just returning like a psychopath he wouldn't have had to do that.
"Hey, Ava," Nolan's calm voice coos, coaxing me out my thoughts.
I blink up at him in the hazy lights of the room, memorising all the features of his face.
"Is there anything you need? A bath? Water?" He asks, sitting down beside me on the edge of the bed.
I shake my head. Instead, my eyes fall down to catch his wrist, the rough edges of his fingers where skin threatens to break.
The remnants of his punch. The moment echoes through my mind again.
My dad, falling to the ground. When I run my fingers over his knuckle he lets me, watching curiously.
"It's like before..." I say quietly.
"Before?"
"When I walked into your room by mistake, and you were cleaning blood off your knuckles."
He mentioned it, three days after he came back, when I brushed past him in the kitchen. It was so weird then. I felt so threatened by every comment he made, like not hating him would push me into liking him. Which I guess I now do.
Nolan hums, lowly. Maybe he's waiting for me to explain what happened with my dad. I don't know when my brain will let me spill.
"Did you like me... back then?"
I twist to face him, meeting hazel eyes and a curious gaze. He sucks in a breath, jaw clenching like it always does when he's thinking. I know it's a heavy question, but it's been lingering and I needed to ask it.
"I...don't know," He admits, finally, "Maybe. I found you interesting, more interesting than most people. I thought you were pretty, good in front of a camera... but I think I was too out of it to really like anyone."
The air twists as he hesitates.
"But at the same time...the only thing I really remember in that darkness is you."
It's funny because maybe it's the same for me and I hadn't even noticed it. I spent so long thinking about him, his looks, his camera - all whilst my family was drowning.Maybe he wasn't ever just Riley's brother. The vulnerable truth makes more words tumble from my mouth.
"My dad started gambling when I was ten, or at least, that's when I noticed it.
He would stay out late, fumble into my room when he thought I was asleep," I recount the memories with a shaky voice, "Mom would get mad at him.
They'd have small arguments that they thought I wouldn't notice. .. but I did."
I always did. Kids pay attention to more things than adults realise. It doesn't matter if they whisper it or wait until you leave the room, I could feel the world stretch tighter every time they spoke.
"It got worse...really bad," All the emotion that had gone numb starts rushing back, too quickly, "He would lose hundreds, then thousands. Every time he would beg my mom to forgive him, grovel, insist he could change....but he always went back."
Nolan drifts a hand behind my back, rubbing in soothing circles. It's a reminder that he's here. Even though these words make me want to implode, finally saying them out loud feels like filtering out years of internal chaos.
"He used to pawn stuff when my mom stopped giving him access to money. When I was 14 our TV went missing and I think that's when mom stopped hiding how serious it was from me. He was really fucking addicted."
"I'm sorry, that must've been really difficult."
"It's just...in some way it wasn't his fault. He needed help, a way out, but he was in too deep. He started taking out loans from sketchy people to get his money. The losses kept growing, he started owing debt to more people...that's when everything went to shit."
I can hear it. The crying, the yelling, sitting in my room staring at the ceiling. Numbing myself down to nothing, trying to blur out all the noise. That sickness that weighed heavy in my chest.
"He used all his savings, then my mom's savings, then my college fund, to pay back loan sharks. He basically bankrupt us. Then he kept going, took out more money than we had, submerged us in debt."
"Fuck," Nolan mutters, and I can tell he doesn't know what else to say.
"He broke my mom, she was so overwhelmed that she could barely get mad at him anymore.
We thought we'd lose the house. I didn't understand why she didn't just kick him out then.
..but I get it now. She was focusing on me, on making sure we didn't completely go under.
Divorces cost money and mental energy she didn't have. "
Tears prick behind my eyes, stinging in the worst way. I can feel my vision going glassy, my throat closing up. The hazy image of what I'm about to say swells in front of me.
"But then he started hurting her..."
"I don't know if it had been happening for longer, but if it had, he stopped caring about hiding it. I saw bruises, heard things break when I wasn't in the room. My poor mom was fucking scared, all whilst my dad kept throwing everything away..."
"Shit, I didn't know...I can't believe all this was happening," Nolan murmurs, "I'm so sorry, Ava. You and your mom didn't deserve any of that."
His reassurance helps but the tears have made it out, slightly slipping down my cheeks. When he notices he pulls me into his chest, smoothing a hand through my hair. I try to speak between small sobs, find words in my cathartic breakdown.
"When I was 15... they got into the worst argument I'd ever seen...right in front of me. They were yelling, my dad was drunk, my mom was sick of all his bullshit. He grabbed her arm, just like he grabbed mine today, then...shoved her back and slapped her, hard."
My chest tightens as the world dizzies. It's the first time in years I've even thought about that moment. I feel like a teenager all over again, watching everything around me sink and not being able to do anything about it.
"I tried to say something, tried to stop him, but he turned on me with this... anger in his eyes. Before he could even touch me my mom lost her shit, forced him out the house. I'd never seen her that angry, but it worked, enough to kick him out."
I let tears fall gently down onto Nolan's lap, little salty specks dotting his pants. He keeps stroking my hair like he'll never let me go. I can tell he wants to speak but is giving me space to let everything out.
"After that she hired a lawyer, figured out the easiest divorce route.
She got a restraining order put in too, so he's not allowed near our house, or within a certain distance of her.
It wasn't cheap. She put us in even more debt just to get him out of our lives forever, not just for herself, but for me. "
The world tilts sideways as my thoughts reach a close, my brain melts into sludge. I don't want to speak anymore, I just want to stay here in familiar arms, letting my tears consume me whole.
"I can't believe no one knew you were going through this...not even Riley?"
I shake my head. I couldn't ever bring myself to say it. My mom was too embarrassed and Riley was my way out. When I was with her, I didn't want my burden of home weighing over me.
"Thank you, for telling me," He mutters, still dumbfounded, "You shouldn't have to carry that all by yourself. Jesus, Ava, now I wish I'd hit him harder."
Maybe I wish he had too.
Maybe I wish he hadn't at all.
It's too confusing to make out so I stay quiet.
"He'll leave you alone now, I promise. That asshole won't invade your life anymore, you've got me to keep you safe."
I huff something like a tired laugh, amused at his protectiveness, even when my mind is mentally exhausted.
His hand finds my chin, tilting me upwards to look at him. Tears stain my cheeks, glisten as he watches me, "I'm serious. You deserve to feel safe, you deserve everything. Your past won't hurt you anymore."
And for once, maybe I believe it.