Chapter 20 #2
Her phone rang, fracturing the moment. It vibrated on the counter near Jay, the screen flashing: Samira Wyler. His eyes narrowed as he snatched it up, turning the screen toward her.
“Why is Mira calling you?”
Ava scrambled for an excuse that wouldn’t betray Mira’s trust. “She’s…staying with me,” she admitted, choosing her words carefully. “Just for the last couple of days.”
Jay went very still. “You’re seriously going to lecture me about hiding shit when you kept this from me?!” He was properly shouting now. “You know I’ve been worried sick about her—whether she’s safe, where she’s staying. You knew she was okay and didn’t tell me?”
“It wasn’t for me to tell you.”
“You didn’t think I should know my own sister is okay? That she’s with you?” He paced into the living room, his movements growing more erratic. “Why is she even at your place?”
Ava hesitated. He wasn’t super drunk—not slurring or belligerent—but the glassy sheen in his eyes and the edge in his voice screamed the alcohol’s influence.
“She—uh…” Ava floundered as her phone went off again.
Jay grabbed it.
“Mira, what is going on?” he demanded, answering the call. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
Ava stayed where she was, catching Mira’s muffled voice on the other end. She couldn’t make out the words, but fragments slipped through: “CT scan,” “nose,” “bleeding.”
“You went to the ER?” His entire body was rigid, his eyes briefly flicking to Ava. “Why would you go back to him?”
Mira’s voice sped up, a torrent of words Ava couldn’t fully follow, but it was clear Mira was spilling everything.
“So he hurt you again…”
Ava could see it happening in the way his shoulders hunched, his free hand coming up to grip the back of his neck.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly before ending the call.
He stood there, phone in hand, staring at nothing. His breathing was audible now, coming in shallow gasps. Then he moved, jerkily handing Ava the phone before walking to a cabinet and yanking it open. Inside was another bottle of Absolut.
“Jay, no.” Ava marched over, grabbing for the bottle. “Please don’t.”
“Leave it!” He yanked the bottle back.
“You’re having a panic attack. Put the bottle down and let me help you.”
“I said leave it!” He turned away from her, fumbling with the cap.
“Stop. Please.” She tried to keep her voice soothing. “Just breathe. We can work through this.”
“I don’t need you to fucking fix me!”
“I’m not trying to fix you. I’m trying to help.”
“I’m fine.” But his hands shook as he poured, vodka sloshing over the rim of the glass. “I need…just need to calm down.”
“That’s not going to help.”
“You don’t know what helps!” His voice cracked, and she saw his chest heaving now. “You—you don’t know what it’s like—”
“Then tell me!” She stepped closer. “Talk to me instead of drinking!”
“I can’t!” He slammed the bottle down on the counter, making her jump. “I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t—” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Mira’s hurt and I wasn’t there and Ari’s in a coma and I can’t—I can’t fix any of it—”
“You don’t have to fix it.”
“Yes I do!” He dropped his hands, his eyes wild. “That’s what I’m supposed to do. For years, I wasn’t there. I failed them. I’m supposed to be there and now—” He grabbed the glass, his hand trembling so badly that more liquid sloshed over the side. “I need this to stop. I need my head to stop.”
Ava watched him take a long drink. “Jay…this isn’t working. You’re making it worse.”
“I’m handling it,” he growled, but his breathing was still too fast, his face still pale.
“You’re not handling it. You’re running from it.” She reached for him, but stopped and put her arms to her sides. “You’re angry with me right now because it’s easier than admitting you’re scared.”
He grimaced and took another drink. “Scared of what, Ava?”
“Scared of feeling anything bad.” She held her ground. “You’re terrified. And instead of letting me help you through it, you’re pushing me away because that feels safer.”
“Not everything is a fucking case study.” He turned away, glass in hand, and walked toward the balcony.
“Don’t walk away from me,” she said, following him and ignoring the jab. “I told you we would fight this together, didn’t I? That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“I’m so tired of fighting, Ava.” His voice wavered. “Just let me have a drink.”
Ava froze, thinking of his letter from the night he overdosed. He was tired of fighting then, too.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He wiped his eyes, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the balcony table. “I don’t want to have this conversation.”
Ava drew a shuddering breath. “Well, I do.”
“I think you should go, A.” His voice was still tight, still fighting for control.
“I think you should let me stay and help you.”
“I don’t want your help!” He spun around. His eyes were wet. “I want you to go before I say something I can’t take back.”
“I’m not leaving you like this.”
“I want you to go.”
He took another shaky drink before lighting his cigarette and turning away from her. He leaned over the balcony railing, head hanging low and eyes closed. His Freddie Mercury tattoo warped against the metal bars. Smoke curled up into the night air.
Ava took a moment to compose herself before pushing again: “And if I don’t go?”
“Why are you making this harder?” He straightened, gesturing with his cigarette.
Ash fluttered toward her. “Ari’s basically dead because I’m a shit twin.
The band’s gone because I’m a shit person.
Riley could’ve killed Mira because I’m a shit older brother.
” He took a slow drag, not looking at her.
“And you’ve been hiding things from me for days.
What does that tell you? I should clearly be alone. ”
“Will you stop being dramatic for once?” Her upper lip twitched in irritation. “You are not better off alone.”
He laughed derisively. “Why, because I’ll kill myself?”
Ava’s face went white. “Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t I dare what?”
“Use that against me.” Her voice shook with fury. “Don’t talk about that like it was nothing. Don’t you dare say that to me.”
He looked away, jaw working. “That’s not what I—”
“Yes, it is.” She stepped closer. “That’s not fair.”
He took another swig. “Why’d you even come back? Why give me a second chance when you think I’m still dead weight?”
Frustration twisted her features. “What are you talking about, dead weight?”
Jay shrugged, taking another drink. “That’s why you didn’t tell me about Mira. You know I’m a basket case you have to tiptoe around.”
“That’s not—”
“Leave, A. I want to be alone.”
“You’re not—”
“LEAVE!” His voice rose to a shout that echoed off the surrounding buildings.
She threw her arms out. “Fine. If you want to be alone, then be alone! I’m done being your collateral damage!”
Jay deflated. “I didn’t—”
“No. It’s my turn.” She held up a hand, silencing him. “I have always, always put my feelings aside for you. My entire life has been dedicated to keeping you happy—literally nursing your wounds!”
Taking a breath, she steadied her voice.
“Even when we were apart, I couldn’t move on.
I didn’t know how to take care of myself because all I ever did was take care of you.
” She vigorously swiped the tears away. “Then there was the feeling that everything I accomplished was worthless because what was it worth if I couldn’t even save you in the end?
Why do I think I can be a doctor and save lives when I can't even save you?”
She paused, his pained expression cutting into her. “If you can’t see past your self-loathing to notice I have feelings too, then what are we even doing?”
“I know you have feelings,” he protested weakly.
“Do you really?!” She scoffed, all of the pent-up rage begging to be free. “I don’t think you realize how much you eviscerated me when you left. You took the easy way out, made the rules—no contact—without considering me. You’re doing it again.”
“That’s not—”
“I’m not done,” she snapped, stomping her foot on the concrete. “I’ll be damned if we keep repeating this cycle. Believe it or not, Jay, I have my limits.”
They both stood, staring into each other’s eyes.
“You pushing me away makes me feel like everything we’ve shared was for nothing,” Ava said, her voice trembling. “After all this time, you still don’t see what I need from this relationship. You’re so trapped in your own head, letting your problems suffocate you until no one else matters.”
“Ava, I’m…” he trailed off, looking away and downing the rest of the vodka. He set the glass down with a thud that rattled the table.
She dug the keycard out of her back pocket and threw it onto the table beside his glass, the plastic skittering across the wood. Her fingers went to her neck, unclasping the emerald necklace—the real one, the second chance one—and she set it down beside the keycard.
“Here. Be alone then.”
His eyes tracked the necklace like she’d ripped out his heart and placed it on the table between them.
“Ava—” His voice broke.
“No.” She stepped back. “You wanted space. You wanted to be alone. So be alone.”
His face—that beautiful, haunted face. She could see every word landing like a needle piercing through whatever armor he’d tried to build. Part of her ached to take it back, to pick up the necklace and put it back on, to fix him.
But she couldn’t keep pouring herself into someone who kept shutting her out.
So Ava turned and strode away from the patio and back into the condo.
Jay didn’t follow.
The curry and dal sat on the stove, still warm, rotis stacked on a plate beside them.
She yanked on her jacket, slipped into her shoes, and walked out, refusing to look back.