Chapter 15 Avery
Avery
Gemma joined Avery and Bel for a girls’ movie night. She’d recovered most of her usual bounce, though it looked a little forced. They changed into pajamas, argued for a while over what to watch, and eventually curled up on the couch with blankets, popcorn, and The Hating Game.
Bel’s cell pinged before Joshua had uttered his first “Shortcake.”
“It’s girls’ night, Drew!” Avery and Gemma shouted in unison, each throwing popcorn in Bel’s direction.
Bel studied her phone. “It’s not Drew. It’s Tanner.”
Avery’s hand stilled in the popcorn bowl. “Yeah?”
“Why’s he messaging you?” Gemma looked confused.
“He says he got my number from Sam because Sam doesn’t have Avery’s.” Bel glanced up. “He wants to know if you’ll meet him for coffee tomorrow. Any time.”
Blinking far too many times, Avery swallowed hard around a kernel of popcorn that seemed to have grown in size. There were damselflies in her chest that didn’t belong there. She was a fortress of solitude, goddammit. She didn’t do emotional angst.
“O . . . K . . .” Her voice hitched on the drawn-out word as temptation won out over common sense. “Why not?”
One of Bel’s eyebrows climbed into a teasing arch. “Don’t want to refer back to your list of all the ways that he’s no good for your health?”
“Even breathing is bad for you if you do it underwater,” Avery mumbled defensively.
“And we’re talking about coffee, not a lifetime commitment.” Bel smiled, neat white teeth showing her approval. “So shall I give him your number then?”
Avery hesitated for another second, then shrugged. There had been a time, years ago, when Tanner had been in her contacts, and her in his. But numbers could be deleted. She’d done it before. “OK.”
Gemma gave a dramatic sigh. “Leave it to you to hook the NHL hottie without even trying, while I get friend-zoned by the love of my life.”
“Don’t be dramatic.” Bel spoke as she typed, her admonishment kinder than the words implied. “Leo’s not the love of your life. He’s just a guy who is incapable of hanging up a towel and sneezes like the world is ending. There’s someone better out there for you.”
“There’s no one better than Leo.” When Gemma faceplanted into a cushion, Bel and Avery exchanged eye rolls. It looked like Leo’s continued attempt to avoid cruelty had worked against him.
Avery’s cell pinged.
Unknown number:
Hope it’s OK Bel gave me your number? Can delete if not.
Another notification. The second message brought a shadow of a smile to her lips.
Unknown number:
This is Tanner btw!
Avery added his name back into her contacts and did what she’d wanted to do so badly ten years ago. She answered him, keeping the message light.
Glad you cleared that up. Thought it was someone looking for foot pics.
Tanner:
Well, I won’t turn them down if you’re offering.
Even you couldn’t afford my feet, Ace Face.
Tanner:
I bet that’s not something you imagined yourself typing tonight.
Avery fought a chuckle.
“When you’ve quite finished your flirt-fest over there, we’d like to carry on with the movie,” Bel nudged, but her tone was indulgent.
“That’s fine—I can multitask.” Avery passed her the remote as another text came through. “I’ll be done in a minute.”
Tanner:
So, coffee tomorrow?
I could meet you in the morning. 11 at the diner?
Tanner:
Looking forward to it already
“All done.” Avery set her phone down beside her and Bel pressed play.
But the movie wasn’t enough to hold her attention anymore. It faded out entirely as Avery’s memory rolled back ten years to the worst night of her life and the very last message she’d had from Tanner.
The soft cord fabric of the couch disappeared, replaced by the coarse material of the stained gray chair that had scratched her thighs in the relatives’ room at the hospital.
Avery could still remember how the exhaustion had permeated her bones, while the clock above the door had done nothing to break the 4 a.m. silence, frozen as it was at quarter past eight.
She’d tried so hard to push her mother toward anger after her dad left, desperate to witness anything other than the endless well of grief, but without success.
Her mom had made Joseph Delgado her whole life.
Without friends to turn to or enough of herself that wasn’t just an extension of him, Violet had descended into a despair that was frightening.
She wouldn’t get out of bed, wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t talk, and Avery couldn’t keep her afloat.
An overworked doctor said they’d pumped her mom’s stomach and she was resting comfortably.
He’d laid a kindly hand on Avery’s shoulder before immediately answering a pager call and hurrying away again.
Avery had known she’d have to phone her father once the night was over but she wasn’t sure he’d come.
It was part of the reason she’d put off contacting him until she knew her mom was going to be OK.
To pass the time, she’d reread each one of Tanner’s first few texts from college.
They were full of sunshine and positivity.
There were scouts at the training sessions.
More scouts at the games. His teammates were cool.
His coach was impressed. The frat parties were crazy.
Message me back! he wrote. Don’t leave me hanging.
But Avery’s life was spinning out of control, and she had no reply to send him. When she’d left him on read, Tanner’s subsequent texts grew steadily more stilted.
The last one was brief. He’d said he was sorry to hear that her mom and dad had split up. He hoped things were OK. She should let him know if there was anything he could do.
But there was nothing anyone could do. And Avery was left grappling with the feeling that something very special had slipped beyond her grasp.
She gave an involuntary shiver as the featherlight reach of the past trailed a finger up her spine.
If she’d realized in the parking lot that stepping in to help Tanner would lead to her father’s affair with Principal Harris and the downward spiral of her life as she knew it, would she still have lied for him?
Despite all the heartache between then and now, Avery suspected she knew the answer to that.
“You OK, babe?” Bel poked her with her foot.
“I’m all good.” Avery summoned a smile. “Just old ghosts and popcorn deficiency. Hand the bowl over . . .”
Tanner was ten minutes late getting to the diner so she got to witness the full impact of his arrival.
You’d think he was a gladiator, striding into the Colosseum.
Heads turned, smiles fluttered, conversations died and resumed in whispers behind hands. There was much metaphorical swooning.
In a movie, he’d have crossed the floor in slow motion to the swell of an instrumental soundtrack.
Again, there was nothing flashy about him.
He wore faded jeans and a khaki t-shirt.
Avery suspected his boots had a designer label, but they were scuffed and well-worn.
Obviously old favorites. One hand scrunched the top of a paper shopping bag, the other juggled his key fob.
Nothing about his appearance shouted “Do you know who I am?” And still, he was as mouthwatering as a hot, buttered waffle.
Drizzled in maple syrup.
With blueberries on top.
Tanner slid onto the bench seat opposite her, a ready grin on his lips, and she snorted.
“Jeez. Could you make any more of an entrance?”
“I was only walking, Stretch. Same way I get most places when I’m not driving.” Tanner ran his eyes around the diner and everyone who was staring turned away in a unified wave. Apart from one old lady with startling blue eyes at the table behind him. She caught Avery’s eye and winked.
Avery plucked the menu from between the condiments, even though she knew every item on it.
“You used to be the one getting all the attention.” There was a smile in Tanner’s voice.
“I did not.”
“You didn’t see what I saw. People always noticed you.”
“You’re wrong.” She kept reading the menu.
“I noticed you.”
He had a way of stealing her breath even when she tried to stay unmoved. Avery’s eyes bounced to his face and hung there. No wonder everyone looked. Tanner was magnetic.
“Your hair’s wet.” Last of the great conversational gambits.
He swept at some messy strands that were the color of biscuit crumbs. His biceps bunched, the tattooed pine trees rippling, and for a moment he looked tired again, inside and out. “I got in a workout this morning. Is it OK if I order food? I’m starved.”
Avery guessed that explained the weariness. “You’re always starved, but it’s fine by me. I skipped breakfast.”
Ducking his head, Tanner examined the wound on her temple. “That looks better.”
She wrinkled her nose. The bruise had now turned an unflattering shade of yellow but the cut was healing well. “It’s getting there. I mend quickly.”
“Tanner Stone. As I live and breathe.”
Avery blinked. Aunt Delia did not wait on tables unless she’d exhausted every avenue of local youngsters to terrorize. Or the universe was ending.
Was she— Eww . . . Was she—simpering?
Tanner flashed a grin. “Hey, Ms. Feeney. How’re you doing?”
“Very well, thank you. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you in here.” Avery’s aunt stretched her mouth into a smile that must have hurt, and there was lipstick on her teeth.
“I’ve not been home for a bit. It’s good to be back.”
Avery caught the eye of the same lady over Tanner’s shoulder.
Her eyebrows were as raised as Avery’s own and she whispered something into the ear of the gentleman beside her.
He sent Avery a charming salute, his lined face filled with a gentle mirth, as if they were all sharing a joke.
Recognizing them both as regular customers, Avery turned a snicker into a cough before refocusing on Tanner and her aunt.
“How’s your mother?” Delia wasn’t smiling any longer. She pinned Avery with the unblinking gaze of a gecko. If she’d swept her tongue out and over one eyeball, it wouldn’t have been a surprise. Disgusting, yes. Unexpected, no.
“Uh, she’s well, thanks.”