Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
kane
WYD Now – Sadie Jean
Iwhistle as I drive my truck back to my apartment.
The glass microwave plate sits on the passenger seat, the sun hitting it now and then.
I chuckle to myself, one hand on the steering wheel, wondering when Avery will notice it’s missing.
Probably soon, given the sad mix of old takeout boxes and microwave meals that filled her fridge.
My gut clenched when I saw it, and coupled with the state of her room, it leads me to believe Avery’s been struggling more than she’d ever admit to me.
Before I left, I placed a delivery order of fresh produce and simple ingredients Avery can use to cook for herself—and won’t require the microwave, for obvious reasons.
She’s never been good at asking for help, which is why I made sure we ate together a couple of times a week, needing to know she was getting well-rounded meals.
I used to make extras to pile in her fridge for lunches she could take to work, making sure she had something to eat on her busy days.
I don’t even want to think about what she’s been doing since the breakup. The thought sends another pang through my chest.
My phone buzzes in the cupholder as I pull up to the townhouse.
I shift my truck into park in my spot, then grab it, expecting it to be a text from Avery about the missing plate.
My excitement is immediately replaced with frustration when I find a text from my father instead—that somehow snuck past the Do Not Disturb setting I have our conversation on—reminding me of my required presence at the estate this Thursday for my mother’s birthday.
I sit back and release a big breath, clearing my head before getting out of the truck, plate in hand. I close the door and walk up the steps, waving hello to my elderly neighbor who seems to enjoy the early morning hours as much as me.
When I walk inside, I drop my keys and the plate on the counter, ignoring everything else and heading to my room.
I shut the door behind me before lying down on my bed.
I slept like shit last night on Avery’s floor, waking up with every little sound she made, worried she was getting sick in her sleep.
I did help her puke three more times, holding her hair and singing to her softly.
As poorly as I slept, though, it also felt incredible being near her again. The unrelenting loneliness receded for just a few hours as I held my hand on her stomach. The gentle rise and fall of her breathing calmed me, feeling as if I was taking my first real breaths in weeks.
I glance over at the clock, noting that I have a couple of hours to get some sleep before my shift at the bar. The Sunday crowd starts mid-afternoon, which gives me time to get a few things done later.
I check my phone one more time, hoping for a message I’m not even sure is coming. When a blank screen stares back at me, I throw my phone next to me and roll over, letting sleep claim me before my racing thoughts threaten to bring me under.
“I’m telling you, she wanted me,” Marcus argues, looking at Grayson, whose shit-eating grin slowly takes over his face the longer he riles Marcus up.
The two of them stumbled in a couple of minutes after my shift started this afternoon, meaning they tracked my location to come to bug me.
Marcus insisted on all of us sharing locations, claiming it’s for safety reasons, but I think he just enjoys being a pest. The number of times I’ve gotten a text when I conveniently pull up somewhere for food asking me to grab him whatever he wants is astronomical at this point.
Although, I guess I should thank him for making us all share with each other because that means I can check up on Avery.
Not in a stalker way, just to make sure her car isn’t lying in a ditch anywhere.
I have gotten better at not checking it, though.
The first couple of days, when I felt out of my mind not talking to her, I checked frequently—so much so that Marcus locked my phone in his room…
and then proceeded to lock himself out of the room.
I knew I had a problem when he resorted to such extremes.
Now I check a couple of times a day, the need to reassure myself she’s okay sometimes the only way I can calm the rising panic that threatens to take root.
“She did not. She checked her phone at least ten times while you were there. I just know she was calling in reinforcements,” Grayson says, taking a swig of his drink.
Marcus snorts. “Oh yeah, you’re so familiar with a girl needing a way out of talking to you, huh?” he goads.
With my own thoughts swirling in my head, I haven’t offered much to this conversation—though I’m clearly not needed at this moment.
“Oh, so you’re saying I can’t get any girls?” Grayson flips his hat around to face backwards, revealing his fresh buzz cut. It’s some weird baseball ritual—buzzed at the start of the season and not cutting it again until the season’s over.
“I’m just saying, you seem mighty familiar with what rejection looks like, given how sure you are that’s what it was.”
“You’re such a fuck. Of course I know what rejection looks like, I’ve had to watch you pining over Morgan for years. How is that going again?” Grayson teases on a drink, a smirk taking over his face when Marcus’s smile drops. I chuckle at their idiocy.
“It’s going wonderful, yeah just last week she let me sit next to her without gagging, so I would assume we’re just about to send the invitations,” Marcus replies sarcastically.
Marcus’s pining over Morgan when she constantly gives him the cold shoulder has been a running joke between us for years.
I always thought he liked the chase the best, but when Morgan had her first serious relationship in college, he barely ate for weeks.
When they eventually broke up, Marcus insisted he was fine just being friends with her, even though he stayed in her orbit, constantly circling her as if he was the moon.
The way he looks at her is the same way I look at Avery.
“How about you, Mr. Chuckles over there?” Marcus turns his attention toward me. “How’s your relationship going, huh? Any sage advice to give us?” Marcus sits back down on the bar stool in front of me where I’m cleaning glasses.
“Great, actually. Yeah, I only cry maybe once a day now. Thanks for asking,” I reply, dry sarcasm rolling off me.
Grayson jumps in, shooting a sharp look at Marcus, who looks properly chastised for once in his life. “No, seriously. How’s it going with Avery, Kane?”
“I don’t know. Each time I think we might finally talk, she pulls away again.
Last night when she was wasted, I took her home, and it was nice.
It was like we were us again, but I ran away before she could wake up.
I couldn’t handle it if she woke up and decided to kick me out or told me last night changed nothing, you know?
” I sigh, wringing the dish towel in my hands.
The rings on my fingers shine under the neon lights of the bar, my newest one staring up at me—a big A engraved into a leaf design I had made months ago. It just came last week. My heart pinched when I opened the package and realized what it was. I wanted to rush over and show her what I’d made.
When the memory of the breakup hit me, I had to close the box.
There were two rings in that order, but I’ve only been able to open this one, which hasn’t come off my finger since. My ring finger on my left hand is the only one still bare.
I shake myself out of these thoughts and stare back at my friends, who wait for me to continue.
I still find it hard to be vulnerable with them.
My parents have never been the sharing sort.
The surface-level conversations go back as far as I can remember, every emotion being shoved down in favor of making it seem like they had the perfect kid, with the perfect family.
The backhanded compliments slowly ate away at my self-worth like a fungus infecting my whole body, until I realized being silent was preferred.
A different sort of silence to the one Avery grew up with, but the loneliness mirrors between us.
“My dad’s throwing my mom this birthday party.
I haven’t told them what’s happening and I’m dreading it.
He’s been on my ass more than usual since I got access to the trust fund my granddad left me.
I think he knows he’s losing his power over me and he’s scrambling.
If I show up without Avery, he’ll pounce, and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get out of his web again,” I rush out in one breath.
The truth pours out of me, and sharing it lightens a little of the weight I’ve been carrying.
“My dad is…a tyrant, to say the least. He was always this huge, imposing man when I was younger, and even when I got physically larger than him, he somehow still made me feel small. Saying no to him isn’t easy.
It never has been, and I worry that I won’t be able to this time.
Usually I have Avery, and while they tolerate her presence at best, they leave me alone with her around.
” I brush my hair back from my eyes, then drop my arms, trying to shake out the tension trapped all over my body nowadays.
My friends both look at me solemnly, matching faces of understanding.
I don’t know if I have opened up to them like this before.
Sure, I’ve told them pieces—they know the gist of my dysfunctional relationship with my parents.
But they don’t know the way I feel bled dry after a single encounter with them.
The way I shut myself away until I am ready to face them again, all my problems shoved so far back in the recesses of my mind until I feel human again.
The way the broken side of me hides under a mask of indifference.
Marcus moves to speak, but before he gets a word out, I see the door open out of the corner of my eye. My head whips up in recognition as Morgan and Avery walk across the threshold.