Chapter Eight #2
Before she could ask, he brought milk from the fridge and nudged it toward her. She poured it in, and he handed her a spoon before she could ask for that either. She stirred, trying not to think about how they still moved together like this.
“And, uh…” He looked at her left hand, at the tattoo they shared. “Thanks for staying last night. I really didn’t want to be alone.”
He never did. Jay had always been terrible at silence or stillness. It was why the band and all the tours worked for him—there was always someone nearby. Being alone was when Jay became his own worst enemy.
“When have I ever denied you a sleepover?”
His laugh came out smaller this time. Sadder.
He poured his own coffee and turned back to face her, leaning heavily against the counter like he needed the support.
The reality hit her: this was Jayesh Wyler—her Jay.
After a while, he’d started to feel like an imaginary friend, but he was right in front of her now with his dark eyes, his floppy hair, and arms she could reach out to.
She wrapped both hands around her mug and held on.
Five years she’d spent getting over him, and one night on his couch had undone all of it.
That wasn’t fair. He didn’t get to show up looking like this—being like this while remembering how she liked her coffee and almost saying he loved her.
He couldn’t do all this and expect her to just stand here like a normal person.
“My, uh, therapist also said I need to be honest with you.”
She gripped her coffee mug, focusing on the heat from the ceramic instead of the heat attempting to settle in her stomach. “Be honest about what?”
He took a slow sip of his coffee. “How seeing you last week made me realize I never stopped loving you.”
His words crashed into her, and she didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved.
Taking in her reaction, his eyes trailed up and down her body before he looked away. She was suddenly very aware that her sweater and tights were discarded beside the couch, leaving only a halter top and skirt to cover her. Too much of her was on display. She was too exposed.
“I understand if you don’t want to hear me out.
I’m not trying to make excuses or beg for forgiveness.
I fucked up.” He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“I walked away because the world needs Dr. Davenport. It doesn’t need another useless drunk’s girlfriend.
” He hesitated. “Blocking your number, avoiding you when we were in town—it was my way of trying to protect you.”
Ava had stopped breathing at some point.
He’d chosen the band and the alcohol over her. That was always clear, wasn’t it?
“I’m sorry. For everything.”
Part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms. That part was embarrassingly loud.
Because she’d spent more than a decade learning him in ways no one else ever had.
The way he hummed when anxiety crept in.
How his best lyrics came at one in the morning, when everything else went quiet.
The soft exhale right before he woke, like he was bracing for whatever the day had waiting for him.
The precise shift in his voice just before he broke.
The subtle tremor in his left hand when he was fighting the urge to drink.
He’d known her just as completely, had been there for every moment that mattered.
Until he decided she’d be better off without him. Without asking her.
She felt the grief first, not only the loss of what they’d been but the years she’d spent trying to unlearn all of it and failing completely. Then, underneath it, something harder.
Anger.
“You seriously thought cutting me out was for my own good?”
He swirled his coffee, studied it. “I didn’t want you wondering where I was or if I was okay when you needed to focus on curing heart disease or whatever.”
“Did you ever consider I might have wanted to worry about both?”
His eyes lifted to meet hers, and she noticed how raw they were. “I would’ve held you back. You saved my life countless times, and the world fucking needs you.”
“Did you ever consider that I might have needed you too?”
Losing contact with Jay during the most stressful years of her life, after having him by her side for so long—did he not realize that felt like punishment?
“I know it was stupid. I was so caught up in the band and needing to dissociate all the time. I only ever wanted to be drunk, high, on stage, or with you.” He set down his mug and pressed his hands onto the counter.
“I was angry, Ava. And I was afraid of taking it out on you. I saw what happened with my parents. I didn’t want to be that. I couldn’t let you get hurt.”
He turned back, expression tight. “It was safer that the threat…that I…left. And I’m sorry.”
It hit her all at once. Graduation night.
Her old apartment. Him swaying in her doorway smelling like vodka and cigarettes, fifteen hours late, his fist going through her wall when she told him he was becoming his father.
The guys never care if I’m drunk or not.
Maybe I’m better off with them. She’d reached for his arm at the door, but he’d shoved her off, choosing people who would let him corrode in peace.
Ava blinked, the memory loosening its grip. She let his apology wash over her. For years she’d convinced herself he cut her off so he could be the rockstar he always wanted to be. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll didn’t have the same feel when tied down to someone. But his eyes were so sincere.
She needed this years ago, though. Not now.
“I can’t do this, Jay.”
Ava set down her mug and crossed to the couch to pull her sweater over her head. When she reached for her tights, he was there in front of her, all glorious tawny skin and thick furrowed brows on the face she’d watched crumple last night.
“I didn’t say all of that to run you off. It’s just—I’ve owed you that.”
“Yes, you have.” She shoved her right foot into the tights and lost her balance. Plopping onto the couch, she continued wrestling with the fabric.
Jay sat beside her, awkwardly perched on the bunched-up blanket. He wrapped his hands around hers, and Ava relented. She dropped the tights that weren’t cooperating anyway.
“I never meant to hurt you. I wanted to do the opposite and…yeah, it was a bad move.”
He intertwined their fingers, and the familiar fit of his hand in hers made her chest ache. They’d fit together like this last night too—against the wall, her hands in his as she pulled him back from the edge.
But who pulled her back?
“This is a lot to take in.” She stared down at their joined hands. “When you left that day, I…felt like I lost a limb. I was stumbling around, and now that it’s been so long, I’ve finally figured out how to walk again. But you’re back and throwing me off balance.”
She traced the tattoo around his wrist, studying the tendrils leading up his sleeve. “I moved on. Well, I tried to. Are you telling me you haven’t?”
“Are you with that guy from last night?” he asked, sounding slightly defeated.
“No.” She looked up to meet his gaze. “Henry and I tried, but it wasn’t right. His career will always come first, and I can’t hold that against him. And I…I would always compare him to you, which isn’t fair.”
His eyes darkened, which made her smirk at his obvious jealousy.
“What, are you going to tell me you haven’t been with anyone?”
She didn’t want to hear his answer, but she wasn’t naive.
“I mean, yeah. I’ve been with other women.” He laughed nervously. “But no one will ever be you, A. I’ve spent countless nights sleeping next to you, and if I wake up with someone else, it feels wrong.”
Then why did you leave?
Ava reached out and touched his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath her fingertips.
Last night, she held his face like this while he panicked.
Now the wild fear was gone, replaced by a rawness that pulled her in.
He closed his eyes, leaning into her hand, and she instinctively mirrored him, drawn closer.
But memories flooded her of unanswered calls and all the moments where she wanted nothing but him at her side. Growing up, she hadn’t noticed how enmeshed they’d become—how much of herself she’d built around him and how much of her daily life assumed his presence. When he suddenly disappeared…
She didn’t want to feel that loss again. She needed to protect herself this time.
“I…” She stood, out of reach. “I need to go. I have to feed my cat and get ready for work. I need a raincheck on this conversation because I can’t do this right now.”
She gathered what little she had and made her way to the door. She didn’t hear Jay following her. Instead, he’d gone to the bookshelf, crouching to retrieve a brown leather journal from the bottom shelf. He turned it over in his hands before taking a deep breath.
“Take this.”
Ava stepped forward, accepting the journal. She started to flip through the pages, recognizing Jay’s handwriting, but he stopped her, closing her hands gently around it.
“Don’t read it in front of me, please,” he said, eyes on their hands. “Just…read it before you decide on that raincheck, okay?”
“Yeah…okay.”
“Thanks again for staying last night.” He looked up at her then, and the vulnerability in his expression nearly broke her. “Sorry if it’s been too much. You know how it is—us Wylers don’t know how to half-ass anything. If it’s going to be dramatic, we go all in.”
She laughed a little, but it came out sad. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
He nodded, looking away. “You too, A.”
The journal felt like it was burning in her hands.