Chapter 24
Marco sipped his chai with exaggerated slowness, staring at me over the rim of his cup. I’d successfully ignored him for three whole minutes, but since we’d pushed two of the desks together to form one “superdesk”—his words—he’d learned how to get my attention.
I put down the pen I’d been using to take notes and met his gaze. “What?”
“When are you going to tell me about Cole Mathis and the very interesting bruise on your neck?”
Through sheer will, I kept my hands in my lap. “When you tell me why you really broke up with Shonda.”
His eyes narrowed. “A fair exchange. I agree, though you might not want to hear this. Shonda liked me well enough when I was a newspaper shut-in with no friends. She liked me less when I started going to hockey games and developed a social life with a beautiful badass. In the end, she gave me an ultimatum—her or you.”
My brows shot up as guilt squeezed my chest. “Marco, I’m sorry. I never meant to ruin your relationship.”
He reached across the superdesk and wiggled his fingers until I put my hand in his. “No. Shonda ruined the relationship. I picked you because you’re my friend, and you’d never ask me to choose.”
“I don’t want you to be unhappy.”
“I promise I’m not upset at all. We weren’t good for each other anyway. Plus, now I’m single for all the hockey hotties you keep throwing my direction.”
I rolled my eyes and retrieved my hand. “One time. It was one time, and all I did was ask you to give Sellers a ride home.”
Marco whistled low. “I don’t know what they put in the sports drinks here, but the entire hockey team could have their way with me, and I’d say thank you, sir, may I have another.”
“Slut,” I coughed into my hand.
He laughed and jerked his chin at my souvenir from last night’s skinny-dipping adventure. “You’re one to talk. Now spill.”
“You already know I’m hooking up with Cole.”
“I also know you’ve never let him mark you before.”
I wasn’t going to discuss how I’d gotten lost in the moment, lost in Cole—enough that a thrill had shot through me when I’d felt the pull on my neck. I wanted his mark on me, even though it would cause problems as soon as I got home and my dad saw it.
Marco must have sensed my unwillingness to talk because he shook his head. “Fine. At least tell me you’re taking this seriously, because he sure as hell is.”
I forced out a scoff. “It’s not like that.”
He sent me a look questioning my intelligence and held up a finger. “You can’t sleep unless he’s next to you.” Another finger. “You spend all your free time at his house or texting him.” A third finger. “You’re madly?—”
I grabbed his hand, stopping his diatribe. “You’ve made your point. Also, I can sleep without him next to me, just not as well. It has nothing to do with him. His bed is massive and perfect.”
Marco snickered. “Sure. It’s his massive, perfect bed you’re after.”
“Not everything is about sex.”
He sat back with a smug smile. “Exactly. You and him aren’t only sex, so you might as well admit you want to marry him and have his giant hockey babies.”
I rubbed my temple. “Why can’t I enjoy the middle ground? There’s plenty of space between only sex and baring his children. Cole makes me happy. He’s kind and strong and so freaking smart. He lights up when he sees me, and every day, I count the seconds until I can be with him again. Every day.”
“Tell me again how it’s not serious,” Marco drawled.
I flipped him off, but his smirk only widened. He knew he was right. Dammit.
My phone buzzed on the desk between us, and I flipped it over to check the notification without thinking. A text from an unknown number popped up, and I pushed the phone away in disgust. I wasn’t interested in anything Scott had to say, but he hadn’t gotten the message yet.
“Asshole,” I muttered, then remembered too late Marco’s addiction to gossip.
He snatched my phone out of my reach and read the message.
“We really need to discuss the concept of boundaries, Marco.” My mild rebuke went right over his head as he frowned at the screen, then scrolled up.
“Have you read these?”
The mild annoyance from Marco forcing me to admit my feelings shifted into dread. “No. I’m not interested in his bullshit.”
He pushed my phone toward me. “Why not block him?”
I hadn’t read the messages after the first few because I hated the way I reacted to Scott—guilt followed by the urge to apologize. Fuck him. I’m not the one who should apologize. He brought his own downfall on himself. I only helped it along a little.
Blocking him, though, felt like turning my back on something dangerous. Not physically. He never hurt me, but he was a master at getting me to do what he wanted. Deep inside, I thought I might need those messages one day. Especially if I needed to defend myself for the article.
Marco held my gaze, waiting patiently, and I couldn’t make myself lie to him or brush him off again. The weight of what I’d done wasn’t unpleasant, but it got heavy sometimes. Telling Cole had helped, maybe telling Marco would too.
“I dated Scott for two years as he emotionally manipulated me, then I came home to find him in bed with my mom. I left and never came back.”
“Is that why he’s upset?”
“Scott was so convinced of his own invulnerability he didn’t even try to hide his shit in the end. I collected evidence and published an anonymous tell-all article detailing all the ways he was cheating, including but not limited to paying for papers, bribing assistants with drugs to change his grade, and fucking one of his teachers. Not a good look for a senior member of his business frat. The school didn’t appreciate his extracurriculars too much either.”
Marco’s mouth dropped open. “Holy shit, Avery. Remind me never to cross you.”
“He didn’t know it was me, would never believe his meek little girlfriend had claws. Except I was only ever meek with him. So no. I don’t read his messages.”
“Maybe you should,” he said mildly.
I tucked my phone away in my messenger bag and stood. “Maybe I will. One day. See you tomorrow for delivery duty.”
His fingers tapped out a rapid drumbeat on the desk. “Since we’re dispensing unwanted advice, I have one more.”
I sighed and waited for him to tell me to move in with Cole or something ridiculous.
“You should talk to your dad.”
All the sass drained out of me. “What?”
“I did his interview, remember? He’s a nice guy. Gave me his number and said to call if I ever need anything.” He leaned forward and met my eyes, completely serious for once. “And he thanked me for being a good friend to his daughter.”
His admission hit me square in the chest. Dad and I had been on better terms since Christmas Eve, but I still suspected he was counting the days until I found a place of my own. We never talked about anything serious, and other than the time he got annoyed when I told him I planned to move out, he never seemed to care if I came or went.
“We talk,” I insisted. “We don’t have much to say to each other though.”
“Have you considered there’s a lot more going on under the surface with him, but he doesn’t know how to express it?” Marco gave me a pointed look. “Sound like anyone else we know?”
“I express myself.” My brain helpfully supplied a montage of the times I kept my thoughts to myself, which was almost always.
He held up his hands. “I think you could benefit from realizing you two speak the same non-language and finding a way to communicate. He cares about you a lot, Avery. Give him a chance.”
“I’ll consider it.” It was the best I could offer.
“I like your claws,” he said to my back as I climbed the stairs.
I waved over my shoulder and kept going. The pressure built inside me from all the emotional forces demanding my attention. As usual, I kept the maelstrom locked down until I was alone on the drive home. Exactly as Marco expected me to react.
There was nothing wrong with thinking before reacting, but as I worked to actively ignore Scott’s harassment, Cole’s growing importance, and the potential of a better relationship with my father, I admitted I might avoid thinking so I didn’t have to react.
I freely admitted I wasn’t entirely good when it came to my mental health, but I had a therapist—I was working on it. Mostly. I pulled into the driveway at my dad’s and frowned as I realized I never thought of this house as home. When I wanted comfort, I went to Cole’s place. His room was where I felt like I didn’t have to hide behind layers of protection.
Shit. Marco was right about Cole. My head dropped to the steering wheel for a second and I groaned. Was he right about my dad too?