Chapter Fifteen
It had been nine days.
Nine days since Ava had shown up at his condo in the middle of the night.
Nine days since he’d promised himself to be good for her.
Nine days of showing up—to the hospital, to her apartment, to therapy, to the small commitments that felt massive for someone who’d spent years perfecting the art of disappearing.
A vibrant orange-and-yellow crocheted blanket draped over Ari’s stark hospital sheets. Heather must’ve finished it after all. Jay could tell by its size that it had taken more than a few hours to make.
He’d settled into his usual spot beside the bed, surrounded by the beeping of machines and the low hum of Soundgarden’s “Black Hole Sun” on the radio. The more he visited Ari, the easier it became to block out the noise and talk to the ghost of his brother.
“It’s been wild,” he said, leaning forward. He told Ari about Ava and how they’d spent the last week in a blur of shared beds and whispered apologies. “I never even thanked you for introducing us. Remember that day?”
He chuckled at the memory: a hot, dusty afternoon in Nashville. They were six. Ari had a rattail, a hairstyle he thought made him the twin that stood out.
“I was speeding down the hill, but you heard that jerk call Ava chubby and slammed to a stop. I was too dumb to notice until you were already chucking rocks.” Jay smiled.
“Ava was crying by the time I caught up. I offered her my sweaty bandana for her tears. Challenged her to a race. I don’t think either of us expected her to win. ”
He had no idea back then what he was setting in motion—how important that girl would become.
“You’ll be stoked to see her. Ava always loved you. All of us together made sense.” His voice dropped. “I didn’t think about how I was taking her away from you and Mir when I walked away. Hell, I was taking you two away from her, too.”
He sighed, shifting in his seat. “I keep thinking I’m not enough for her. She deserves someone who won’t screw it up. What if I’m not the guy who can give her that? I’m always fucking stuff up.”
The radio transitioned into Nirvana’s “In Bloom.” Jay closed his eyes. The guilt of being happy with Ava again was a slow-acting poison. Ava was back because Ari was dying. The universe had traded his brother’s consciousness for his own second chance, and the math made him sick.
Jay opened his eyes when the song ended, letting out a breath. “I need you to wake up so we can move on, man. I need to ask you if I’m doing the right thing. Because I don’t fucking know anymore. I can’t even get Mira to call me back.”
A soft knock pulled his focus. Ava poked her head in, and even through her smile, he could see the exhaustion.
“You’re early,” she said. “Thought I’d be waiting on you.”
They had parted the night before with plans for breakfast after her shift. Though Ava wouldn’t finish until after six, Jay, ever the night owl, had walked to the hospital at sunrise to wait in Ari’s room.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Jay said with a shrug. He plucked a to-go cup from the counter beside him. “Got you coffee.”
She closed the door behind her and moved toward him slowly, like her body was running on fumes. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun on top of her head, strands of blonde poking out in random spots. The strain around her eyes gave her away.
“Why didn’t you sleep?”
“Just worrying that Mira’s not responding again.” He shrugged, trying not to think about it more. “So I started writing. Played with a song idea. Stopped when it got close to time for your shift to end.”
Ava sank into the chair beside him with a heavy sigh, taking the coffee gratefully. He draped an arm over her shoulders, squeezing gently.
“Hazelnut. Thanks.” She sipped and closed her eyes. “God, I needed this.”
“Rough night?”
“We were slammed. Had a patient code twice. Brought him back both times, but...” She shook her head. “I don’t think he’ll make it through the day.”
“You have a tough job, A.” Jay kissed the top of her head, rubbing her arm. “What’ll help, besides coffee?”
“Sleep. Got dinner with my parents tonight, so I’ve got to have some sort of rest for that.”
She hadn’t mentioned that until now.
“You have dinner with Ma and Pop tonight?”
“Yeah. I almost forgot, honestly. We’re meeting early for my birthday dinner. Their annual cruise lined up with my actual birthday, so we’re celebrating before they leave.”
The mention of her birthday hit him hard. He knew her birthday was October 12th, but he hadn’t realized how soon it was. His mind scrambled.
“You’re welcome to come,” she added. “I mentioned you to Pop last night, and he had a million questions.” She took another sip before adding, “No pressure, though.”
His heart warmed. The Davenports always treated him like family, even coming to a few early Wicked Smile gigs. But that was before he’d left their daughter—before the drinking and the hole in the wall.
How much had she told them?
“I’d love to see them.” He tried to keep his voice steady. “Don’t want to crash your birthday dinner, though.”
She smirked, some of her exhaustion lifting. “You basically lived at my house, and you think you’re crashing my birthday dinner? It’ll be like old times.”
Old times. Except he wasn’t the same kid who used to help her mom set the table or talk music with her dad. He was the guy who’d nearly destroyed himself and taken their daughter down with him.
“What if they hate me now?”
Ava’s expression softened. “They don’t hate you, Jay.”
“They should hate me.” He looked down at his hands. “If I were your dad, I’d want to punch me in the face.”
“Pop’s not going to punch you in the face.”
“But he wants to.”
“Maybe a little.” She smiled, but he could see the strain beneath. “Look, they were worried about you. Even after we split, Ma would ask if I’d heard from you. They saw the tabloid stuff. They didn’t hate you. They were more…scared for you.”
That somehow made it worse. Hate was something you could fight; pity was something you had to carry.
“What did you tell Pop last night?”
“That we ran into each other at the hospital. That we’re...figuring things out.” She took his hand. “I didn’t get into all of it. But they know you’re back in my life, and they want to see you.”
He nodded, but his mind was already spinning ahead. Her parents’ house meant driving through his old neighborhood, which meant seeing the house next door, the one with his father still rattling around inside it.
Jay’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and grimaced.
Luke: Meeting Fri @ 10. Don’t be late. Lionel will call soon w/ the details.
“What?” Ava asked, reading his expression.
“Band meeting.” He pocketed his phone. “Friday.”
“How are you feeling about it?”
“Terrified. Relieved. Like I’m about to burn down everything I’ve spent my entire life building.” He laughed, short and humorless. “The usual.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “And after that meeting, you’re going to walk out of there and figure out who Jay Wyler is without Wicked Smile. It’s going to be scary, but you’ll be okay.”
He kissed the top of her head again, breathing in the antiseptic smell that clung to her scrubs mixed with her shampoo. “What if your parents ask about the band?”
“Tell them as much or as little as you want. They’re not going to judge you.”
He wanted to believe that. Could he really sit at their table and be welcomed back like no time had passed?
“Then let’s head to your place,” he said, pushing past the anxiety. “I’ll make eggs and bacon, we’ll nap, and then wake up in time for Ma’s cooking.”
“I hope she’s making meatloaf,” Ava said with a laugh, but Jay couldn’t help frowning at the mention of it.
Though Jay distanced himself from this part of his life, the moment Ava turned onto their old street, a sick, strange darkness surfaced within him.
Being back felt like a betrayal to the part of him that fought so damn hard to escape.
Jay’s jaw clenched as Ava steered the car into the gravel driveway. The crunch of the stones beneath the tires grated in his ears. He kept his eyes locked straight ahead.
Stepping out, Ava filled the air with mindless chatter—how it was unseasonably warm for this time of year, how her mom had mentioned maybe planting new roses out front. He loved her for it. Her words kept him tethered to the present when his mind threatened to spiral back into the past.
Ava’s childhood home looked just as it did the day they moved in.
The shutters and front door were still painted the bright yellow her mother adored, and the front garden was still full of whimsical fairy and gnome statues.
He focused on those familiar details, but his gaze slipped left for half a second to peeling paint and dark windows before he jerked his focus back to the gaudy sign on the Davenports’ porch: “Welcome to the Beach House.”
Before they reached the front steps, Ava’s father ripped open the door, his deep southern twang booming. “Hey, baby!” Pop pulled Ava into his arms so hard Jay was surprised she could still breathe.
“Hey, Pop,” Ava said with a warm smile.
Then Pop’s eyes found Jay, his grin widening. “Jayesh, my boy!”
Jay barely had time to brace himself before he was pulled into the hug, Pop’s familiar charred wood and pine scent flooding him. The hug was tight—too tight—but Jay didn’t mind. It was a reminder that good things still existed here.
“Have you grown another foot since I last saw you?” Pop laughed, slapping Jay hard on the back.
Jay pretended it didn’t hurt, even though it definitely did. The man had always been stronger than he looked. “I think you might’ve gotten shorter, Pop,” Jay teased, slipping into the easy banter.
Pop gave him a mock scowl, turning to Ava. “Tell this boy to be nice or he’s eating scraps outside for dinner.”
Ava’s laugh was light, but her eyes flickered to Jay, checking on him. Always checking.
Inside, rosemary, garlic, and a hint of vanilla wafted from the kitchen.
“Jay’s a foot taller!” Pop bellowed.