Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Avery
This was going to suck.
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, anxiety corroding my mental state like battery acid. Mom’s house was just a few minutes outside of town. The driveway was long and rocky, my truck wobbling as I pulled between my brothers’ trucks.
I turned off the engine and sat still for a moment.
My childhood house wasn’t home anymore.
It had felt like home my entire life until Dad died. A four bedroom, two bath, with brick walls and a large flagstone wrap-around porch I’d spend countless days playing on. I used to spend hours drawing with chalk, creating art my dad would croon over and my mom would wash off later.
This house held a lot of good memories. A lot of frustrating ones. Some bad ones. And then there was the sadness that had bled its way into every nook and cranny.
I always knew losing someone would be hard. Everyone knows that. But when it actually happens, the grief is an all-consuming leech on life. All of the knowing could never have prepared me for how fucking hard life would be without the man who raised me.
I hoped I would make him proud. I tried my best with the studio and helping out where I could around town. It wasn’t necessarily the glamorous life I’d imagined for myself, but I still got to do what I loved.
Evie and June were going to kill me. I was tempted to text them now to fill them in on everything that had happened with Mateo, but I’d kept it all to myself over the last few days.
Texting him, openly flirting with him, staying up late in the night talking on the phone.
I hadn’t felt this sort of giddy happiness in so long, and I didn’t like keeping it a secret.
Not from them, of course. I’d fill them in soon. But, I knew it would be a four-hour conversation over cheap margaritas, a bag of chips, and bad 80s hair band music.
I glanced at my phone, wondering if Mateo’s seduction plan was working.
Ugh. I needed to put all of that out of my mind and ready myself for dinner.
I hated that I always felt the need to put guards up when I was around my mom. I did love her, but that didn’t change the fact that my relationship with her was far different than she had with my brothers.
My blood pressure was skyrocketing just from sitting in the driveway. I did what my therapist had suggested and drew in a slow, deliberate breath. I held it, released it, and reminded myself that this would be fine.
I did dinner every Sunday and was fine. Right? And if things went sideways, I’d remove myself from the situation. I’d hold my boundaries. I’d make sure that if she said anything mean or completely rude, I’d leave.
“You coming inside?”
Austin’s muffled yell from the front door was the end of my peace. I grabbed my bag and hopped out of the truck. I headed down the sidewalk and plastered on a smile, but who was I kidding? Austin had the same forced smile on his face.
I raised a brow. “Anything I should know?”
“Well, she’s asking Dallas and I when we’re going to give her grandchildren,” he said lightly. “So I’m happy you’re here. You can take some of the heat.”
“Oh joy. Great. Wonderful.”
Austin held the door open for me and I stepped inside, immediately met with the familiar scent of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and roasted veggies. I kicked my shoes off and hung my bag, rolling my shoulders and bracing myself for whatever mess this was going to be.
“Hi,” I called, heading straight to the kitchen.
I rounded the corner and wasn’t surprised to see Mom pulling a pan out of the oven.
My smile faltered as she stood up. She’d lost some weight and that concerned me, since I’d seen her only last week.
Her hair was pulled back into a bun and I noticed more gray than usual.
She turned, the angle showing me her face, and .
. . damn. Maybe Dallas was right to be worried. She wasn’t wearing any makeup.
My entire life, this woman got up before dawn to put her face on. It’s just how she was. In fact, I couldn’t remember a day where she didn’t have makeup on before eight in the morning—including the day of my father’s funeral.
“Avery,” she said without glancing at me. “Glad you made it on time.”
Just a little slap. “Just a couple minutes late. Where’s Dallas?”
“He’s hanging up some pictures of Dad for me.”
Well, fuck. Great. My stomach did a slow flip, but I kept that smile plastered on as I stepped up to the sink to wash my hands. “Want some help?”
She snorted. “Since when do you help in the kitchen?”
“Almost every Sunday,” I said. “Would you like some help?”
If I didn’t help, she’d grumble about it the rest of dinner.
Mom sighed. “Set the table. Use the green dishes. I’m tired of the blue ones.”
“All right,” I said.
The dining room was right across from the kitchen.
It was large and good for parties. A wooden hutch with glass doors sat against the wall, full of different dish sets that’d been in the family forever.
I opened it, carefully pulling four plates from the green section.
My gaze lingered on the fifth plate, but I let the door close and carried them to the table, setting everything quickly.
My spine stiffened as she slammed some of the cabinets, grumbling to herself under her breath. I was pretty sure I caught the words “ungrateful” and “always doing all the work,” but decided to tune her out.
For a while there, I thought it was going better. After Dad died, she’d been a lot nicer. She’d clung to me in a way that made me feel wanted. But now, I was pretty sure she’d completely swung the other way and wanted nothing to do with me.
I ignored the ache in my chest and returned to the kitchen, opening the silverware drawer. We didn’t say a word to each other until Austin came back into the kitchen.
“Can I help?” he asked.
“We’ve got it,” Mom chimed. “You can take a seat, if you want.”
I pressed my lips together and finished setting out linen napkins with forks and knives.
“I’ll put the food out,” Austin said, grabbing dishes off the counter.
He could ignore her like that without getting scolded.
Dallas walked into the room with a hammer in hand. He dropped the tool in the drawer next to the sink, then gave me a big hug. Tension radiated through him as he kissed the top of my head.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Good,” I lied. “Got the pictures up?”
Dallas nodded, but didn’t smile. Of the three of us, he didn’t pretend as much. His eyes were a little glassy, his jaw set. None of us were happy about the photos going up, because it would just be a knife to the heart every time we saw them.
“Where’d you hang them?” I asked.
“In the hallway going upstairs,” Mom answered.
Great, so they were unavoidable. “That’s nice,” I said.
“I think we’re all ready,” she said as she grabbed a pitcher of sweet tea and carried it to the table.
We all dragged out our chairs and took our designated seats, ignoring the empty one where Dad used to sit. I wished that she would just get rid of the chair. Hell, I wished I could break it apart. But, instead it sat there, solemn and dusty like a headstone.
“Thanks for cooking,” Dallas said. “This all looks good.”
“Of course,” she said.
“Maybe next Sunday we could do pizza,” I said. “So you don’t have to cook every week.”
“What—do you suddenly not like my cooking?” Her words dripped with accusation.
Here we go. “No,” I said as I piled my plate. “Clearly I like your cooking. I’ve been eating your food my entire life, Mom.”
“It’s a good idea,” Austin backed me up as he piled his plate with food. “Just to do something easy. How has your week been? What have you been up to?”
“No different than last week,” she said with a shrug. “Did some work around the house. Watched a show. I saw some video about a politician that was caught in a sex club.”
“That was fake, Mom,” Dallas sighed like he’d gone over this fifty times already. He probably had. “Some of that AI bullshit. It’s called a deep fake.”
“Oh. Well I guess that’s good news,” she said. “Computers can really do that now?”
“Unfortunately,” Dallas said. “You know not to watch the news unless it’s from the sites I gave you.”
She smiled and it almost reached her eyes. “It was on Facebook. One of the ladies I used to get lunch with shared it.”
“Speaking of,” I said. “Have you gone out for lunch with any friends recently?”
Mom narrowed her eyes on me, the mood shifting. “No. Why?”
“Seems like it would be good to,” Austin said. “You used to go out three times a week.”
“Used to,” she said. “Just trying to save money.”
“Mom, you know you have plenty of money to spend on getting lunch with friends a couple times a week,” Dallas said. “We’re just worried about you staying in too much.”
“I’m doing just fine, darling.”
Fine. God, that word was fucking cursed. Everyone at this table was fine, but none of us actually were.
It was always me that had to rip the bandaid off. “We think you need to see a therapist,” I blurted out.
The table fell silent and our mom stared at me like I’d grown two heads. Dallas leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stubble in a very stressed out way. Austin’s brows shot up as his expression hit the oh shit, Avery went there face.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“We think you need therapy,” I said firmly. “It’s a good thing. It’s healing. I go to therapy and—”
“Well you go because you’ve got problems up there,” she said, making a gesture toward my head.
“Jesus. Mom,” Dallas interjected. “That’s not an okay way to say that. And therapy is healthy, especially after loss—”
She sat her fork down, the metal clinking against her plate like a sharp exclamation point. “I’m not going. I’m doing just fine.”
“You’re not though,” I said. “You’re not wearing any makeup. You’ve lost weight. We know you’re not going out like you used to—”
“I’m saving money.” She tipped her chin up defiantly, and I got a glimpse at where my fucking stubbornness from. “None of you need to worry about me.”
“But, we are worried,” Austin said. “We all think you need to do this.”
“And I said no. End of discussion.”
“It’s not the end of discussion,” I said. “We’re not children anymore, and you can’t just shut us down.”
Her eyes narrowed on me. “Why do you always have to pick a fight with me, Avery? What did I ever do to you except give you a roof over your head?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was a hard thing to do, since you’re the one that chose to have me,” I seethed.
“Avery,” Austin said softly.
“No, really,” I said. “It’s not even that I’m picking a fight with you. I’m just not rolling over and doing exactly what you say anymore. You do need therapy. Half of the money I pay my therapist has literally gone to me trying to fix my relationship with you.”
“Well, they’ve done a shit job.”
Ouch. My eyes stung. “I’m trying harder than you are.”
“Are you? You never come see me. Never call me. Never do anything with me.”
“You don’t see me, call me, or do anything with me either. It goes both ways. I shouldn’t always have to be the one to reach out.”
“And I should be?”
“At least sometimes,” I said, exasperated.
She scoffed. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not your father. He always had a way of getting through your bullshit. I have no idea how, though, and never will.”
I stared at her for a moment and then pushed my chair back.
“Avery,” Dallas pleaded.
I stood up and grabbed my plate, taking it to the kitchen. My spine stiffened as my mom sighed.
“Avery, I take it back,” she said. She clearly didn’t fucking mean it. “Stop being dramatic.”
“Mom, you’re not being nice right now,” Austin said, his words stiff. “We’re trying to help you, and you’re not listening to us.”
“What? I’m not the one stomping around and being a bitch about it. She is.”
“Mom,” Dallas snapped. “What is wrong with you?”
I cleared my plate and put it in the sink. My eyes continued to burn as I swallowed back tears. I needed to get the fuck out of here, but I paused to look at the three of them. She twisted in her chair to give me an exasperated look. Austin was clearly angry, and Dallas was in shock.
I just couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep pretending our family was fine.
My words were calm and measured. “I’m not doing this anymore. I won’t be back next week. Until you go to therapy and start working out your issues and why you hate me, I will not step foot back in this house again.”
“Avery, I take it back,” she said again. “Your dad always understood you.”
“Because he tried to, and you never have.”
“Well, sorry he’s not here to mediate.”
“Me too.”
My mother scoffed as I fled. Dallas stood up to follow me as I headed straight for the door.
“Avery,” he said softly. “We need to—”
I spun around to look up at him and his expression died when he saw mine. His eyes shone as he dragged me into a full hug.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry she’s like this. You don’t deserve it.”
“I don’t.” A sob loosed in my chest. “I need to go.”
He gave me another squeeze and then released me. “Want me to text Mateo? I’m sure he could pick you up.”
“No,” I said quickly. Mateo is hopefully having mind blowing sex with your friend right now. “I’ll go to June or Evie’s.”
“Okay. Are you okay to drive?”
“I’m fine.” I wiped my eyes quickly and slid on my shoes. “I can’t keep doing this, Dallas. I’m sorry.”
“She went too far. Austin and I will talk to her.”
“Good luck.”
Voices echoed from the kitchen and Dallas turned slightly, making a face. “Fuck, man. I’m so tired of this.”
“I know. Call me if you need me,” I said.
“I’m sorry I can’t stay. I can’t keep doing this.
We can’t keep acting like everything is fine.
And until she starts to work on herself, I can’t keep putting myself in this position.
Every single week, I have to jump through hoops to make myself feel okay. I can’t.”
“It’s okay,” he said softly. He genuinely meant it, too. “Thank you for trying. I love you and I’ll see you this week. We’ll make our own dinner plans, okay?”
The tension melted just a little. “Okay.”
“I’ll text in a bit.”
I nodded and drifted outside like a ghost, pulling my phone out of my pocket as I headed to my truck. I pressed June’s name to call as I got in and backed out of the drive, tears streaming.
“What’s up, buttercup?” June answered.
“My mom is a bitch,” I sobbed.
“Oh no. Need to come over?”
“Yes,” I sniffled. “Can you call Evie?”
“That bad?”
“Yeah. I’m not going to family dinners anymore.”
“Well, shit. All right. I’ll see you in a few. Did you even eat?”
“Not really.”
“I’ve got leftovers and Evie can bring us stale bakery goods. And once you feel better, you can tell us about Mateo’s little morning coffee concha run you’ve been keeping to yourself this last week.”
It was a gross, snotty laugh—but I still laughed. “I’ll be there soon.”