Chapter 18 #3
“Sure it is. You’re afraid. You’re strong, smart, independent—God, I’m so proud of you.
But you’ve got walls around your heart so thick, I’m not sure anyone can scale them unless they’ve got a battering ram, some dynamite, maybe a nuclear warhead, and a security clearance.
Baby, you’re the emotional equivalent of Fort Knox. ”
“For good reason.”
“Of course, for good reason,” Mandy says, her voice delicate but her eyes never wavering.
“Love has been unfair to you. It’s knocked you down in a way no one should experience.
But baby, hiding inside Fort Knox doesn’t stop the bombs from dropping—it just means no one can get in to help you clean up the rubble.
At some point, you’ve got to let someone through the gates.
Not because you need saving—God knows you can save yourself—but you deserve someone who stands shoulder-to-shoulder with you, carries the weight when you’re tired, and adores you. And that man definitely adores you.”
“What if I let someone in, and they leave? What if I hand them the keys and all they do is… prove me right?” Her voice dips, thin and uneven. “I don’t want to go through that again.”
“You’re scared because he’s showing up right now,” her mom says gently. “And deep down, you want to believe he actually means it.”
Ava’s voice cracks. “What if he doesn’t actually mean it?”
Mandy steps closer, her expression firm, motherly. “He isn’t Jon.”
Jon? Who the fuck is Jon?
“You’ve got to let go of the past,” she adds.
“I know he’s not Jon,” Ava responds, picking at loose threads on her sleeve. “But I’ve learned that what looks good on the outside typically comes with splinters underneath.”
Mandy’s face softens. “Soren probably will hurt you. At some point. That’s love, baby. You hurt each other sometimes. Not on purpose. But we’re human. And loving someone means handing them the sharpest parts of yourself and trusting they won’t use them to cut you open.”
Ava leans over onto the counter, her head falling forward and resting across her arms.
Her mom walks over, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Love isn’t a feeling. It’s not butterflies or chemistry or what your brain says when watching videos at four in the morning. It’s a choice. Every day. To trust. To forgive. To keep showing up, even when it’s hard.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Then you’ll lose him. And you’ll probably live a very lonely life.”
Those words sound cruel, but they aren’t. They’re honest and slice straight through flesh, through ribs, into my beating heart.
“You like him, Ava.” Her mother strokes Ava’s hair. “I know my daughter better than she knows herself, and you are gone for that man. You just haven’t accepted it yet.”
“Guess I should get in line behind the thousands of others.”
That sentence hurts.
It doesn’t just sting—it burrows into my chest and splinters. She still refuses to see me as nothing more than the caricature I’ve been selling to everyone else.
I press a hand over my heart, holding it in place like it’ll fall out if I don’t.
“You know what I see?” Mandy says, glancing toward the hallway I’m hiding in. “Yeah, that man upstairs has women throwing themselves at him online, in person. And he could’ve spent the holidays with any of them. But he didn’t. He chose to be here. He chose you.”
Ava lets out a short, incredulous breath. “So, what? I’m supposed to be grateful? I’m supposed to gush over the fact that he didn’t spend Thanksgiving holed up, sticking his dick into a pack of thirsty groupies?” Her voice wobbles at the edges, heat blooming in her cheeks.
“Watch that mouth, Ava,” Mandy scolds.
Ava’s expression isn’t embarrassment, more shame, frustration, maybe even fear—a reaction that only happens when someone hits too close to the truth with her.
Mandy steps closer. “No,” tone matter-of-fact, “but you do need to see it. His choice means something. He’s not chasing attention. He’s chasing you. And denying the version of himself the world expects. Maybe it’s because he’s found someone worth changing it for.”
A pause. Then, the kicker.
“Maybe you are that change.”
Ava’s eyes water before she can stop them, and for a moment, the room holds its breath.
“We barely know each other,” Ava counters.
Shaking her head, Mandy chuckles. “Still trying to hide behind those walls, baby? You get to decide. Stay safe and alone. Or risk it for someone who could be everything to you.”
Mandy turns to pour the tea, humming a tune under her breath.
I stay put. Breath shallow, feet frozen to the floor. What I just witnessed wasn’t meant for me, but it sure as hell was about me.
Per her usual, Ava’s scared. Walled up. But she’s thinking. Considering.
I’ll fucking take it. And when she’s ready—actually ready–I’ll be there. This one’s worth it. Every biting edge of her.
In the meantime, I’ve got a new mission: Find out who the fuck Jon is. Then figure out whether to send him a thank-you card or break his nose.
Maybe both. Depends on the story.