Chapter 21
Ava
Some hugs are gentle, like being folded into dove wings.
Eli’s arms circled me firmly–a living, breathing roller coaster harness.
Solid. With intention. So different from the ghosts following me for the past year.
I could’ve fallen asleep curled in his lap.
But that ever-nagging sense of responsibility called.
Nina would need an explanation and assurance that I was okay.
When I straightened, Eli smothered a grunt, and the flash of pain from the arena rushed back at me.
I flew off his lap in alarm. “Oh, my God! Did you get kicked?”
His chest dropped in a slow-motion exhale, but he shook his head.
“But I saw you. You were hurting. You are hurting.” I crouched in front of him and grabbed the hem of his shirt.
“Ava, it’s fine.” He tried to pull my grip away. “Don’t worry about it.
I lifted the fabric a few inches, void of gratuitous intent. “Oh, my God! Eli!” And higher, until his shirt practically smothered his face.
“Ava, it’s nothing.” His hands circled my wrists and tried to pull them down, but they lacked the strength.
“Nothing?” A horrible, dark purplish-black bruise ran from his collarbone to his navel. “Wh-what happened? When did this happen?”
He collected my hands in one of his, using the other to fix his clothing and hide the offense from view. “Don’t worry about it. You have enough on your plate.”
I shook my head. “Eli, you look like you broke a rib! Or ribs. Have you been to see a doctor?”
“What can a doctor do? It’ll heal. This stuff happens all the time.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“It does for me.”
I realized I knew so little about him. “Well, then you should consider a career change, because this …” My hands slid out of his grip and back to his shirt.
He didn’t fight me this time when I shifted it up, studied the patterns, dusted my fingertips over the discolored skin.
“Did you ice it? Does it hurt when you breathe?” Anger snuck back in.
“You were going to get on a horse like this?”
His chest shook, and when I glanced at his face, it portrayed pained humor. He was laughing.
Laughing! “Excuse me?”
“I’m just enjoying you finally fawning over me.”
I dropped my hands. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You don’t have to stop.”
“Forget it. Clearly, you're fine.” I rose, fully intending to storm out, but he was on the floor because of me.
With a sigh, I held my hand out to him. He did a poor job of hiding his discomfort as I hauled him to his feet.
“Let me take you to the doctor.” Before he could form a “no,” I added, “It would make me feel better.”
“Ava ...”
“We’ll take your truck. It has a smoother ride.”
“No. You gotta get Nina home. You have work in the morning.”
“Yeah, I do. So, stop wasting time arguing about it.”
His eyes met mine in challenge, studying me, hopefully noting that I wouldn’t relent. He ran a tired hand down his face.
“Okay. Just don’t tell my dad.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want him worrying about me.”
I considered him for a moment. “Fine. We can tell him we’re getting ice cream. I just need to check in with Nina before we go.”
Day two at Rock ‘N Roll flew by much like the first: chaotically. I fought off a wave of exhaustion as I parked next to Bill’s truck that evening. Eli’s and August’s were down by the stables. So much for doctor’s orders. I knew he wouldn’t refrain from heavy lifting or vigorous activity.
I grabbed my purse and the white pastry bag before making my way to the house. Nina’s face popped up in the kitchen window, then disappeared to greet me at the door with a huge smile.
“Mama! Guess what?”
“What?” I stooped to scoop her up.
“We sawed a fwog eat his skin!”
“What?” Did we have frogs in Phoenix?
“On the TV. Abi showed me.”
I peeked into the living room and saw several encyclopedias spread open on the coffee table. Bill’s glasses rested on top of one. “Well, that sounds gross.” I wrapped her in a tight hug.
“Mama, you’re squishing me!”
“It was gross,” Bill called from the kitchen.
I waddled in as Nina slid down my leg. “Abi?” I asked him.
“Oh. Something August said, and it stuck, I guess.”
Huh. Abi, short for abuelo? I liked it, but the lines were beginning to blur. “Thanks for watching her.”
“My pleasure. How was your second day?”
In truth, not exciting at all–typical office work that stole hours I’d never get back. But I didn’t want to appear ungrateful. “It was good.” I set the pastry bag on the counter in front of him.
“Ooo, for me?” Paper crinkled as Bill dug out his apple fritter.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. God, this was embarrassing. “I, um, I want to apologize for yesterday. My husband was thrown from a horse, and he died, and I guess I’m still a little … tender about it.”
“Understandable.” He didn’t sound surprised at all. “There’s only one in here?”
My smile returned. “Yes. I’m saving you from yourself.”
“In that case,” he said, taking a large bite, “go find Eli and tell him to get his clothes out of the laundry. I’m not his maid.”
“That sounds more like I’m saving Eli.”
Bill shrugged, then sauntered out of the kitchen with his pastry and a bottle of iced tea.
I considered doing the task for Eli. Was that too domestic? Too intimate?
“You’re not alone. I got you.”
Not any more intimate than cradling me in an empty room, mascara smeared down my face in creepy clown fashion.
He’d seen me at my worst. Sadness, anger, and loneliness were suffocating me, squeezing all the air from my lungs, convincing me I’d never be able to refill them.
Then there he was, reminding me to breathe. With two broken ribs, no less!
“I was thinking,” I said to Nina. “We should help Eli, since he’s been so nice.”
“Yeah!” Her enthusiasm locked my decision.
“Come on, let’s find the washing machine.”
The long mudroom jutted off the kitchen and stretched its way to the garage. A washer, dryer, counter, and sink lined the left wall. Windows over a bench lined the other. An ideal layout with tons of light to make the task downright pleasant.
I grabbed a basket from the counter and started unloading the dryer, shaking out each item so it didn’t wrinkle. “What should we have for dinner tonight, Crackerjack?”
“Pizza!”
“Pizza? Didn’t we just have that?”
“We eated it for lunch!”
“Well, then we’re definitely not going to have it again for dinner.” I tried not to blush when I removed a pair of boxer briefs. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“I wuv pizza!”
“I can tell, but let’s pick something different. How about salad?”
Nina reached into the dryer to help, but ended up dragging several items to the floor. “E-why doesn’t like salad.”
The way she said his name made my heart stutter. I picked up a shirt by her feet. “He doesn’t? How do you know that?”
“He tolded me.”
“Well, then I guess it’s good we’re not making him dinner tonight.
” I tucked the basket of clean laundry into my hip and eyed the door that led to the garage.
I figured it would take us to his studio.
What did Eli’s room look like? Was he the kind of man who made his bed or left dirty dishes everywhere?
Nina followed hot on my heels as we entered the concreted double-bay.
To my left, I found a staircase that folded around itself to a second level.
We climbed, and as I reached for the door handle at the top, I wondered if this infringed on his privacy.
Then I remembered all the times he’d inserted himself into my bubble, and I threw the door open.
The garage studio boasted more square footage than our entire apartment. Eli’s bed dominated the rear wall, and the crevices in the mussed sheets fueled my already tingling imagination. So, not a bed maker. But otherwise, tidy.
Left of the door stretched a modern kitchenette with trimmed wood cabinets.
No dirty dishes. Just a little pile of coins and receipts.
An open door in the back, left corner revealed a full bathroom.
But I veered right, to the wooden desk under a large window, and admired the view.
You could see from the line of trucks in front of the garage, all the way to the front gate.
On his desk, papers mingled, overlapped. Numbers littered the margins–equations–but one value stuck out with its dark, double underline. Lifting the top page, I studied the surrounding notes and surmised it must be related to Bill’s ranch and that final notice envelope.
“Mama, what’s dis book?”
I turned to find Nina holding a magazine with a very attractive, very bare woman on the cover.
“Nina!” I dropped the laundry basket on Eli’s bed and snatched the publication. “This is not for kids! Where did you find this?”
Her eyes grew glassy. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? You just picked it up.”
Her mouth pinched.
I fixed my tone. “I’m not mad. I just want to make sure it goes back exactly how you found it.”
Nina remained silent. With a sigh, I scanned the bedside area, looking for clues, but in the end, I guessed and left it on the single wooden nightstand.
“Come on, Crackerjack. Let’s see what the boys are doing.” Before we found anything else.
Beyond the stables, a series of metal poles sprang out of the ground at regular intervals, forming an elongated oval. August walked the perimeter, shaking each post in turn, checking its sturdiness. I smiled. Eli must’ve agreed to a paddock.
“Mama, watch!” Nina ran ahead, approaching the nearest post, and swung herself in a sweeping circle. Like a pole dancer.
I grimaced, hoping the cement had finished setting. “Wow!”
As if he heard my inner thoughts, August walked by and gave her post a good shake.
He bent down to tell her something, and soon she shadowed him, laughing as she gave each pole the same treatment.
Eli wandered out of the tack room behind me, headed for a pile of tools near the edge of the work zone.
“Hey, you.” His warm greeting had me falling in step with him.
Could I pretend I hadn’t just been holding his porn?