17 - Avery
Avery
By midnight, Wyatt’s house looks thoroughly wrecked.
The music has lowered to a lazy background hum, and empty bottles crowd every counter. Someone is asleep face-down on Wyatt’s sectional while half the hockey team argues about whether cereal counts as soup, which is surprisingly a very hot topic.
All night, I’ve bounced from conversation to conversation without having to face Grayson again. That doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed him, though.
I’ve watched him refill drinks, clean up spills, take plates from people’s hands, and make sure Wyatt doesn’t completely disappear into the woods to avoid hosting his own party.
Every time I accidentally look at him, he’s doing something… considerate. It’d be easier to ignore if it weren’t the exact opposite of what I expected.
Has he always been this way?
I’m leaning against the back door, talking to Liam while he explains why men should not be trusted if they own more than one chain necklace.
“It’s a character flaw,” he says seriously.
“You say that while wearing two rings.”
“That’s fashion. It’s different.”
I snort into my drink.
“So then this guy says to me,” Liam continues dramatically, “bro, crypto is about community…”
The back door slides open.
Sloane pokes her head inside, eyes landing on me.
“Avery.”
Her tone makes me straighten. “What?”
“I need help.”
“With?”
“Harper.” She starts dragging me toward the back door.
Liam raises his beer behind us. “Thoughts and prayers.”
The cold night air chills my skin when we step outside. The backyard is almost empty now, with only a few people lingering near the fire pit.
And right in front of the fire, sprawled across one of Wyatt’s outdoor blankets with Tank half on top of her, is Harper.
My eyebrows shoot up, and I look around for James since they’d come together. When I don’t see him, I look back toward her.
Harper is drunk and alone.
I haven’t seen Harper drunk since college. She’s usually the person holding everyone else’s hair back while offering them crackers and reassurance.
Her cheeks are flushed pink from alcohol and firelight, and her dirty blonde hair is messy around her shoulders while Tank rests his giant head on her stomach.
“Avery!” she gasps happily, like she hasn’t seen me in years.
Then she pats the ground beside her.
“Lay down with me.”
Sloane mouths good luck and disappears back inside.
Harper grabs my hand and tugs me down.
“I’m coming. I’m coming,” I mutter.
Tank immediately abandons her for me, climbing into my lap.
“Traitor,” Harper tells him solemnly.
He sneezes in her face, and I laugh before I can stop myself.
Harper points toward the dog. “I think he understands me emotionally.”
“That’s because you’re both drooling.”
She gasps, but then giggles despite herself.
I watch as the smile disappears from her face, replaced by a painful silence. The fire crackles while music muffles through the walls behind us. It would almost feel peaceful if Harper’s behavior weren’t so weird.
“Where’s James?” I ask.
“He went home. Said he had work stuff.”
“At midnight?”
“Apparently spreadsheets wait for no man.”
That asshole didn’t have work. But even drunk, Harper’s trying to protect his image.
I prop myself up onto one elbow. “Harper.”
She looks at me with a tiny crack in her expression that she’s trying desperately to hold together.
“He told me to catch an Uber,” she says softly. “But I don’t have my debit card for the app.”
Anger flashes through me. He left her here with no way to get home. Husband of the fucking year.
“It was shitty of him to leave you here.”
“I mean, he told me I could go with him.”
“Why didn’t you?”
The fire pops between us. Tank nudges Harper’s hand until she pets him again.
“I just,” she says, eyes glassy from more than alcohol now, “didn’t want to go home and sit alone while he was holed up in his office all night.”
My heart breaks for her because Harper loves so deeply, it practically pours out of her.
She’s spent years taking care of everyone around her without asking for much back.
And now, I’m thinking about the way she looked at dinner this week.
How even earlier tonight she’d looked lonely standing next to her own husband.
I’ve never liked James. He was a cocky, frat bro who expected the world to bend for him. But Harper loved him, and I used to think he loved her enough for the rest not to matter.
Right now, though, I’d be more than happy to shove him off a cliff.
“Let’s go,” I say, pulling her to her feet.
I tug her along behind me like a lost child until we get back inside. It looks like the rest of the party has cleared out, leaving Wyatt and Grayson in the living room cleaning up.
“We’re going to sit out front and order an Uber back to my place.” I don’t really say it to anyone in particular.
I hear them whisper back and forth to each other before Wyatt nods.
My eyes lift toward Grayson to find him already looking at me. For once, there’s no teasing or argument waiting in his eyes. That one look is all it takes for me to know he has no plans to let me Uber anywhere.
“I’ll grab my keys.” He sets down a trash bag and heads to the kitchen.
For reasons I can’t explain, I don’t fight him on it.
Tank circles Harper’s feet while we push on to the entryway, forcing Wyatt to stop what he’s doing and wrangle the dog before he escapes out the front door with us.
Harper drops to her knees and wraps both arms around Tank. “He loves me.”
“I’m sure he does.” I smile down at her.
“Wyatt,” Harper starts. “I think I like your dog more than my husband.”
My smile drops instantly because it might sound like a joke, but it’s not really. I can tell the difference.
Wyatt mumbles under his breath, “Yeah, after tonight, I can see why.”
I glare at him, but considering I feel the same way about that asshat, there’s not much heat behind it.
When Grayson turns back up with his keys, we head to his car. Harper climbs in the backseat, curling up against the window.
“Are you sober?” I ask him.
His mouth twitches faintly at our role reversal. “Had two beers three hours ago.”
I nod once and slide into the back beside Harper. If Grayson was expecting me to ride up front, he doesn’t show it. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or offended by that.
The drive begins quietly. Streetlights blur past the windows while music plays low through the speakers. I watch Grayson through the mirror, but his eyes stay fixed on the road as if trying to give us privacy.
Which turns out to be a good thing, considering what Harper says next.
“I don’t know how we got here.”
The vulnerability in her voice is like a punch to the gut.
Harper and James have always been a solid couple. They’re the kind of couple people point at when they talk about soulmates.
And look how that’s turning out.
Harper shifts toward me, laying her head in my lap. Without thinking, I start combing my fingers through her hair.
“I feel stupid,” she murmurs.
“You’re not stupid.”
“I’ve built my entire life around him.”
The terrifying thing is, I understand how that happens.
It happens slowly. One compromise at a time until you wake up one day and realize you’ve been orbiting someone else for so long you forgot how to stand still on your own.
“I know,” I say.
“You’d never do something that stupid.”
Her green eyes focus on me, waiting for me to agree.
But I can’t.
Because I was that stupid.
I force myself to forget Grayson in the front seat, who might be hearing every word out of our mouths.
“It’s not stupid, Harper. Loving that way is brave. And you’re not the only one who changed herself for a man. I hardly even recognized myself by the end of my relationship with Damon.”
Her brows furrow. “Why do we do that?”
“You did it,” I sweep her hair off her forehead, “Because you love James so wholeheartedly that you put him above everything. See? Brave.”
“Is that the same reason you changed yourself? Because you loved Damon like that?”
My eyes burn, and I swallow. “I did it because I wanted Damon to love me like that, and I thought that was the only way anyone ever could.”
“But I love you that way already, and Wesley does too.” Her hand reaches up, brushing my cheek.
The lump in my throat gets worse because Harper says things like that so easily, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. Even as her marriage implodes, she loves like love’s never once betrayed her.
A smile twitches at the corner of my mouth. “I love you too.”
Harper’s eyes are almost closed now. “I think something’s really wrong with my marriage.”
“You’ll be okay.”
Silence fills the car the rest of the way to my place. When we park out front, I tap Harper to get her back awake and off my lap.
“Okay,” I murmur, “We’re home.”
“I’ll help…” Grayson starts.
“No.” I shake my head. “Just wait out here?”
Something flickers across his face at the request, but he nods. “Yeah. Of course.”
I help Harper out of the car, one arm around her waist, while she stumbles slightly in her heels.
Getting Harper upstairs is slow but manageable. Once inside, I guide her toward the couch, but she points down the hallway.
“My makeup,” she says with drunken seriousness. “If I sleep in mascara, I’ll look haunted tomorrow.”
“God forbid.”
Ten minutes later, Harper is changed into pajamas and fully unconscious beneath a mountain of blankets after drinking half a bottle of water. I can’t help but watch her for a minute after she falls asleep.
I hate how unhappy she sounds. I hate that tomorrow she’ll pretend everything she said was nothing but alcohol talking. There’s nothing I can do to help. And even if there was, what the hell do I know about love? Nothing good.
With a sigh, I grab my jacket again and head back downstairs. Grayson’s headlights are still on when I step outside. A part of me expected him to be gone.
I pull open the passenger door this time instead of climbing into the back.
Warm air wraps around me immediately.
Grayson glances over from the driver’s seat, expression unreadable beneath the dim dashboard light.
“Is she good?” He asks.
“Passed out almost instantly.”
He hums once in acknowledgment.
At first, neither of us says anything, but then I clear my throat and force myself back into familiar territory.
“Sorry about all this tonight. She’s kind of going through some stuff.” I gesture vaguely. “And thanks for the ride.”
“It’s no problem.”
His voice is easy, and for once, I don’t even question his sincerity. I know he means it.
“Besides, I’ve had plenty of practice.” A faint smirk pulls at one corner of his mouth. “Three older sisters. I’ve spent half my life designated driving.”
“You have three older sisters?”
A piece of him clicks into place. The patience and calm that he always seems to manage, regardless of how hard I poke.
“Mhm.”
“That sounds terrifying.”
“It was.” He leans back against the seat. “Actually, it still is.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too wide as the quiet settles in again.
I should leave. I came out to say thank you. That’s it. Now that I have, I should go back inside and forget this entire night happened.
But then Grayson says, “You’re a really good friend to her.”
I snort. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I’m serious.”
Something in his tone makes me glance over. He’s watching me closer, and it sends a shiver up my spine.
“It must’ve been hard,” he says, nodding to my place, “not telling her her husband’s a piece of shit.”
I choke on a laugh because he’s not wrong.
“It wouldn’t have helped. She already knows.”
His brows pull together.
I add, “Maybe not fully yet, but deep down? She knows.”
“Earlier… what you said about yourself with Damon–”
“I was trying to make Harper feel better,” I cut in. “That’s all.”
He sighs, nodding once. It’s clear he doesn’t believe me.
And I am lying, so he’d be right not to.
“It’s not a big deal anyway,” I add, staring out the windshield. “Relationships end badly. That’s kind of how they work.”
“That’s cynical.”
“It’s realistic.”
I tick them off on my fingers.
“My parents were a disaster. Damon was a disaster. And now Harper and James, who were everyone’s gold standard for true love, are falling apart too.”
Grayson is quiet for a long moment.
Then he says, “My parents have been married for thirty years.”
I blink, rolling my lips together.
“They still dance in the kitchen,” he says with a small shrug. “Still hold hands everywhere. My dad still looks at my mom like she hung the moon.”
I hate how easily I can picture that.
I hate even more that even after everything, some small, reckless part of me wants to believe that it really exists.
“Okay,” I say. “So they’re the exception to the rule.”
“You really believe that?”
“Yes.”
Grayson studies me for another beat before huffing out a quiet laugh.
“What?”
“This might be the longest conversation we’ve ever had without fighting.”
I open my mouth with a comeback already loaded, but nothing comes out because he’s right.
“Huh.” I sink lower into the seat. “I guess I’m too tired to fight tonight.”
As if to prove it, a yawn immediately sneaks up on me.
Grayson’s expression softens.
“Go to bed, Avery.”
My name is Avery. Everyone calls me Avery.
But Grayson never does.
It’s always Chaos. Always some smartass remark or crooked grin designed to keep distance between us. Hearing my actual name from his lips makes the knot in my stomach tighten painfully.
I reach for the handle before I can think too hard about it.
“Thanks again.”
My feet carry me inside as fast as humanly possible, while I try not to panic. I slam the door behind me, locking it as if it’s a physical barrier between me and whatever the hell that was.
I lean against the wall, sliding down to the floor.
This is bad.
The fighting was fine. The mutual annoyance was fine. Hell, the hooking up was fine.
Those things are predictable.
But tonight, sitting in his car having a genuine, nice conversation about love was not fine.
It was dangerous.