Chapter 36
ANDERSON
My chest feels warm as my eyes grow heavy, my body sinking into my bed.
The night felt so easy. So right.
So real.
I keep getting glimpses of that side of Ava—the one I thought she kept hidden, but it’s the one I think she’d be if she wasn’t so wrapped up in that beautifully complex brain of hers—and I cherish them.
She seemed a little caught up in her mind when she got home from work, but I wanted to make sure she was fed and relaxed. I was hoping she might want to stay up and talk, maybe just spend some time together after Georgie went to bed, but I don’t think we’re there yet.
Maybe one day.
Because I refuse to accept that there’s anything fake about this.
And I plan on proving just that to Ava.
We have a few weeks before the adoption will be finalized—there’s no doubt in my mind that it will be. Ava is everything Georgie needs.
And I need them both.
I decided the moment I said “I do”, and our lips met in just a whisper of a kiss, our closest friends cheering as the officiant introduced us as the Montgomerys, that I needed to tell Ava how I feel about her.
How the feelings have only grown since that Valentine’s Day night.
The night I was going to pour my heart out into her hands and watch with bated breath for what she was going to do with it.
She needs to know how I feel.
I drift off to sleep, my mind on Ava and the feeling of her skin, her hair, her lips. Everything and anything about her, because she’s better than any dream I could ever have.
My heart leaps in my chest as I resist the urge to let out a scream that would be quite embarrassing for me. I rub my eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness, making the dark figure standing in my living room clear enough for me to see who it is. “Georgie? What the hell are you doing up?”
I just needed some water, and now I’m almost peeing my pants on my kitchen floor.
Letting out a dry chuckle as my heart rate goes back to resting, I grab a water bottle from the fridge. “Is this a new hobby of yours? Standing in the dark until someone notices you?”
Georgie doesn’t say anything, but I see her bring a hand to her eye, swiping just under her lashes. She sniffles, and I immediately set my water down, closing the distance between us.
“G,” I start, leaning down to meet her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head, taking a step back from me, and the urge to pull her close, demanding to know what’s wrong so I can fix it is almost too strong to ignore.
As my vision adjusts to the darkness, I find her eyes red-rimmed and glassy, her shoulders folding in as she wraps her arms around herself, and I can’t stop myself from reaching for her, bringing her into my chest where her sniffling immediately turns to sobs, and I can feel my heart breaking in half.
It’s at that moment that I realize I will do anything for this girl. I will find whatever she’s lost; I will fix whatever was broken; I will kill whoever hurt her.
My love for Ava has been a fire I feel deep in my soul, one that has been burning for months and months, slowly growing stronger the longer I tried to ignore it.
But my love for Georgie, while just as certain, is the kind of fire that catches all at once—a sudden blaze that somehow settled into my chest without me realizing.
Like it’s always belonged there.
Georgie’s breaths become slower as her sobs fade into muffled cries against my chest, her body settling into me as if realizing that I’m here to hold it all together, so she can fall apart.
She reminds me so much of Ava—putting on a strong front until it all becomes too much.
The tension in her body begins to release, and her arms, tightly wound around her waist, fall to wrap around me. I hold her closer, hoping she feels safe, here in my arms, from whatever made her cry.
I don’t know how many minutes pass—it could’ve been two, or it could’ve been twenty—when she finally lifts her head from where it rests against me, pulling away just enough to stand on her own.
Just like something Ava would do.
“I’ve been having nightmares,” she admits, whispering into the silence of the house, the darkness of the middle of the night.
I nod, gesturing to the couch for us to sit. “Do you want to tell me about them?”
Georgie lets out a sigh and sinks down into the cushions.
Moments like this remind me just how much of a kid she is, even when she’s pretending that she isn’t.
“They started the night before you and Ava left for Las Vegas.” She brings her knees up to her chest. Her eyes water again as I wait for her to say more, giving her the room to tell me more, or for me to just be here with her, reminding her she’s not alone.
We left for Vegas four days ago—and she’s been dealing with this alone since?
After a moment, she explains, “I keep dreaming I’m standing in the middle of the road at night, and there are these headlights coming toward me, but I can’t move no matter how hard I try.
And then, right before the car hits me, I hear my dad’s voice calling my name from somewhere behind me, like he’s trying to warn me, but when I turn around, he’s not there.
” She shakes her head, as if wanting to rid herself of the thoughts.
I reach for her hand, which is resting on her knee, and give it a squeeze.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, wishing I knew the right thing to say. “It’s just a bad dream. You’re safe.”
“But when I turn back toward the car, I see it’s my mom in the driver’s seat,” she says, her voice cracking as tears begin falling down her cheeks.
I wrap an arm around her shoulder, holding her against me. “I’m so sorry, G.” I feel my own eyes water, wishing I could take these feelings from her and claim them as my own—taking them on so she doesn’t have to.
“Tonight, I thought staying awake as long as possible would help. And then, I set an alarm to wake myself up to try and stop the nightmare from coming.”
“G,” I start, the ache in my chest deepening to a point I didn’t know was possible. “You need to sleep.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “It’s the same alarm I used for waking myself up to make sure my mom was in bed and dump out all the alcohol bottles I could find.”
It’s like the ground beneath me gives out, something inside of me collapsing in on itself, an intense anger making it hard to see straight.
“I know it might not feel like it, but you’re a kid.
You deserve to feel like one, to be one.
And, Georgie, that means being able to sleep at night, at the very minimum. ”
“I’d rather be tired than scared,” Georgie whispers, and I wish I could make her understand that she deserves so much more than just feeling safe in her home.
Safe enough to get some decent sleep and not be afraid of whatever her mind will conjure up, using her trauma to remind her of all the ways the universe has been so unfair to her.
“Yeah. But staying awake all night?” I offer as her head falls against my shoulder. “It doesn’t fix anything, especially doing it alone.”
“I don’t want to be alone,” she admits quietly.
“You’re not. Not right now. Not ever again,” I promise, my head resting on hers. “You can let yourself sleep. I’ll be right here.”