Chapter 31
Tower of Wrong
When I awaken the next morning, I discover that Gavin has already left the hotel room. There’s a text on my phone:
Gavin
Something came up. Had to fly to NYC. —G
I stare at the message, rereading it three times, waiting for my heart to do something other than sink.
I figure it’s a lie, or at least a half-truth. But I’m too wrung out to chase it. And, maybe a part of me is grateful that he’s disappeared before I had to face him in the morning light.
We crossed a line. And then I stopped us.
But the stopping didn’t make it any simpler.
The house is quiet and empty feeling, so I spend the day in the garden. The sun is out, but I can’t feel it. My hands are in the soil, but it’s not grounding me. I’m trying to plant something, but everything inside me feels uprooted.
I tell myself over and over that we stopped. Olivia didn’t deserve it. No matter how much I dislike her—which, let’s be honest, is a lot—she doesn’t deserve betrayal. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.
That hunger. That need. That unbearable clarity that something real was happening between us.
It’s not just guilt that’s following me. It’s wonder, too. The kind that rearranges you. I let myself feel it. Just for today, I tell myself. Then tomorrow, I’ll put it away and try to be his friend again. If I can be friends with my ex of eight years, surely I can be friends with a man I’ve only almost kissed.
But it was more than that, wasn’t it?
Gavin arrives home late the next day and walks through the kitchen, his jaw tight, expression unreadable. He doesn’t look at me.
“Hey,” I say softly, turning from the stove. “Can we talk about it?”
He pauses. Doesn’t meet my eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about. It happened.” He shrugs. “We stopped it. That’s what matters.”
I blink. “That’s all it was?”
“We had a moment. You were missing my brother. That night was complicated.”
He says it like a surgeon. No feeling. Just precision.
“Gavin, you don’t look like you’re fine.”
“Ava, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
The words hit harder than they should. He exhales, already regretting them, but not enough to take them back.
“I’m exhausted,” he adds. “And I have some things going on that I’m not at liberty to discuss. So please. I’m going to my study.”
He walks away, and I let him go. Because chasing him would hurt more than watching him leave.
Actually, I prefer the world not to revolve around me. But the truth is, we are all our own sun, no matter how much we don’t want to be at times.
I call Quinn. Not because I want to see him. Because I need to feel like someone still wants to see me.
“Dinner?”
“Sure.” I curl into the corner of the couch. “That sounds—”
The phone is snatched from my hand. Gavin presses ‘End Call’ like he’s swatting a fly.
“What the hell, Gavin?”
“You don’t need to throw yourself at Quinn.”
“Excuse me?”
He exhales. “You’re doing something reckless to feel wanted. I get it. I’ve done it. But don’t. Not him.”
“Wow. Thanks for the slut-shaming. And also—why do you care?”
His voice lowers. Rough. Tired. “Because I know exactly what he wants.”
“What do you want, Gavin? To protect me? Or to punish me for stopping something you were never brave enough to finish?”
That gets him. His eyes flash. But he doesn’t respond.
“Forget it. I’m going to dinner,” I say.
“I don’t want him anywhere near you.”
“News flash: I’m an adult, and you are not my father and definitely not my boyfriend.”
I grab my coat and bag. But when I reach the front door, I realize my keys are in the kitchen.
Of course they are.
I take a breath and open the door anyway.
Quinn’s car pulls up, headlights flashing across the drive.
Gavin follows me outside.
“You’re not going,” he says.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I do when it’s Quinn.”
“You’ve been weird about him since the beginning. What the hell is going on?”
He doesn’t answer. Just steps forward, putting himself between me and the car.
“Gavin.”
Quinn steps out of the car, his brow furrowing as he looks from me to Gavin. “Everything right, mate?”
“Turn around,” Gavin says quietly.
“Excuse me?”
“I said leave.”
Quinn laughs. “You’re not my bloody boss.”
Something dark flashes in Gavin’s expression. It doesn’t read as rage. It’s something worse.
“I’ve seen the photos, Quinn.” His voice is flat. Dangerous.
Quinn’s jaw tightens. Not anger. Something closer to shame.
“Gav—”
“Don’t,” Gavin says.
Quinn looks at me then. And for a split second, I see it—regret. Not for getting caught. For something else.
“This isn’t her fault,” he says quietly, then gets back into his car and drives off.
I whirl on Gavin. “What. The hell. Was that?”
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Rubs his hands over his face.
“I can’t,” he says. “Not yet.”
“Try.”
“I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt.”
“Funny, because right now, you’re the one doing the hurting.”
I haven’t spoken to Gavin for three days.
I think about texting Kiki.
But what would I even say? Hey, I almost kissed my ex’s brother and then stopped myself. Thoughts?
Kiki would come running if I asked. But right now, I don’t want to talk.
I want to un-feel. To undo. To forget.
I leave food out for him, but I don’t check whether he eats it. I move through the house like a ghost. The only place that still feels safe is the garden.
I’m halfway through texting Jared—half a tattle, half a cry for help—when there’s a knock on my door.
“Ava,” Gavin says quietly. “Can I talk to you?”
I don’t respond. I’m too angry, too afraid of what I might say.
“Dinner’s in the fridge,” I muster. “That’s all I have for you tonight.”
Minutes later, I hear the microwave beep. The soft scrape of a fork against ceramic.
I made him a dinner like I always do. And he ate it like nothing’s changed.
But everything has.
And we both know it.