Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
TY
“Hey, where are you going?” Avery stomps up behind me.
I don’t stop walking. “My room.”
“Can I see?”
I turn, peering down at her.
Her cheeks flush. “I just… I’ve never really been up here before. Downstairs, sure. Up here… Whole new world. What if there’s an emergency, and I need to get you out?”
“If there’s an emergency, I’ll be the one getting you out.”
“You don’t know that!”
It’s cute that the girl who has no sense of danger is suddenly concerned about safety.
“If you want to see my bedroom, just say that.” If it’s possible for her cheeks to flush any more, they do. Satisfaction that I’ve stunned her into silence thrums through me as I approach my door. “How long are you planning on staying anyway?”
When her footsteps fall silent, I stop, glancing over my shoulder. “Not long.”
“No game plan?”
She shakes her head. “I’ll give myself a couple of weeks. If that’s okay.”
“You really think you can find somewhere viable in two weeks?”
She shrugs. “I was hoping some of the girls might have a connection and maybe I can find a roommate that way.”
“What is it with you and moving in with strangers?”
She frowns, and for a second, I hate that I’m the one who wiped off the cheery look she always has pasted across her face.
Even when I think she’s trying to act mad, she still looks so happy.
I’m even more grateful I scooped her out of the parking lot.
A girl like that shouldn’t be out on the streets.
“It’s not like I’m going to kick you out,” I add to break the silence, then hurry to amend my words as a V forms between her brows. “Stay as long as you need.”
“Thank you. That’s… that’s really sweet of you, Ty. It’s a little scary out there in the roommate world, ya know? I had one a couple years ago that was secretly stealing my socks. Just a single sock from each pair.” She laughs when I grimace. “Yeah, it’s weird. But harmless, right?”
“At least it wasn’t your underwear.”
“Exactly! That’s what I tried to tell my sister, but she freaked out.” She giggles, the trill wrapping me in an unexpected warmth.
“You can stay until the holidays.” The words are out of my mouth before I can think better of them.
“Then if I host any family get-togethers or whatever, we don’t have to explain anything to anyone.
You don’t have to hide out in the shadows the whole time.
Plus, my mom’s planning a Christmas wedding. ”
“A Christmas wedding?”
I shrug. “We’ve tried to talk her out of it, but she says she’s old and can do what she wants. I’ve learned not to argue.”
“The start of the holidays? So Halloween?”
I cock my head. “I was thinking Thanksgiving. That’s the start of what most people consider to be the holidays.”
“Says you. Halloween is technically a holiday.”
I arch a brow. “If you want one month less to find a place, then that’s up to you.”
“No, no, no. I like your plan. November. Before Thanksgiving. So that gives me…” She counts her fingers, tallying up her remaining time here. “Three more months to pay you back and find a place.”
“Just worry about finding a place.” I turn back toward my room.
“And paying you back,” she chirps, fluttering along behind me like a determined little bird.
“How are you supposed to do that, Avery? It’s not like the Kings pay their cheerleaders well.”
She groans. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. But that’s why I have my business. The plants will save me.”
“And how is that going for you?”
“Pretty good. It got me a room, didn’t it?”
I shake my head at how pleased she looks with herself and tamp down on the urge to curve my lips up into something that will only encourage her more.
She sizes me up. “There has to be something you need. It doesn’t have to be money. While I live here, I’ll take care of the plants and—”
“That’s it. That’s good.”
She shakes her head. “No, it isn’t.”
“There’s nothing you don’t like doing that I can do instead? Laundry? Dinner? Mowing?”
“You’re not mowing my yard.” Something tells me that although Avery has a love for plants, cutting grass may turn into a disaster.
Or an injury. Still, I can’t get the image out of my head of her pushing the mower along in some type of cropped shirt, sweat trailing paths down her bare back.
Because who mows with an actual shirt on?
I push the thought out of my head. Avery is off limits.
She may be living in my house, but we’ve signed papers.
Thoughts like that will only derail what we both can’t stand to screw up.
And I get why these rules exist. The team wants to protect their image, among other things.
It’s understandable, but it’s times like these when I wish I didn’t thrive on the structure—the dependability—rules provide.
She sighs. “Fine. I’ll do your laundry.”
Another image of Avery pops into my head, this time with more clothing on. But now she’s elbow deep in my dresser, tucking away my favorite shirts and socks and underwear… I shake the thought from my head.
A V forms between Avery’s brows. “There has to be something you hate doing.”
There is one thing I have to do that I hate, but there’s literally nothing Avery can do to help.
Because it’s not a household chore. It’s not a bill.
It’s something I’ve been dreading ever since their announcement, and especially lately as my mother dives full speed into her newest hobby—wedding planning.
Before I can stop myself, I open my mouth. “Yeah, you can go in my place to my mom’s wedding.”
“Perfect. I’ll bring a cardboard cutout of you and move it around strategically so it seems like you’re actually there.”
I tilt my head. “You said that way too fast. As foolproof as that plan seems, Cardboard-Ty can’t walk her down the aisle.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“Cardboard-Ty definitely can’t do the father-daughter dance.” When she cocks her head, I explain. “My grandpa passed away a few years ago, so I’m kinda standin’ in for him.”
“I’m so sorry,” she says, leaning against the wall like we’re settling in here.
Which we aren’t because I’m definitely not having this conversation with her. Not about my dead grandpa or the fact that my mom and Johnny have been acting like teenagers since they met. I guess, in theory, that should make me happy, but I’ve seen her like this before.
Just because Johnny offered up an engagement ring doesn’t mean he’s different from anyone else who’s broken my mom’s heart.
She’d been engaged on three separate occasions by the time I turned eighteen, and each guy abandoned her—us—for a worse reason than the last. One reconnected with his ex-wife, another got his high school band back together at the ripe age of forty-five.
And one was a cheater. They promised her the world and left anyway, crushing three spirits in their wake.
“Yeah, well, if I didn’t show I’d break her heart, and I’m not gonna be the one to do that,” I say, starting back on my path to my bedroom. “It’d be a little easier to tolerate if I wasn’t expected to dance.”
A throaty gasp sounds off behind me. “You don’t like to dance, Ty?” Avery sounds offended.
I shrug, finally turning into my bedroom. She follows but freezes as she steps into my doorway.
“What are you, some kind of vampire? You can come in,” I say.
“That’s a weird thing to say.”
“Why? You have to invite them in, or else they can’t enter. It’s usually a house, but it’s my room, so…”
My words fall on deaf ears as she spins around in a little circle, taking in the room like she’s a kid at a candy store.
My room is nothing impressive. It’s relatively bare, “sleek” as some have said.
Beyond the vaulted ceilings and the luxury items some interior designer suggested, it looks like any other room.
But I’ll admit, I do have an impressive collection of books that stretches from floor to ceiling in one corner.
She spots it and gasps again, pointing and covering her mouth. Her hand drops, and she’s smiling so big, her eyes almost disappear behind the apples of her cheeks. “I never would have guessed you’re a reader.”
“I’m choosing not to take that as an insult.”
“You shouldn’t.” She flies over to the wall of books, her delicate fingers tracing the spines. “I feel like Belle.”
I smirk and tuck the fact away that if she’s Belle, I must be the beast. The irony that she’s now staying in my home is not lost on me.
Her hands press against her cheeks. “This is an impressive collection.”
“Thanks,” I say.
Avery walks from side to side, reading the spines like we’ve got all the time in the world. Today, with no practices, I guess we kind of do.
I watch as she mumbles title after title to herself before finding my collection of paranormal books.
She gestures animatedly to them. “I can see where the vampire reference came from. Did you read the whole Starless Veil series? I thought the movie adaptations were pretty good. A little cheesy, but hey, what’s wrong with a little cheese every now and then? ”
“Do you read?” I ask.
“I mean, I dabble with the occasional romance. That’s why I picked up Starless Veil. I’m a sucker for a romantic subplot. It took me months to finish it though. Too many distractions, ya know? But it was one series I had to know the end to.”
I nod even though, no, I don’t know. A book has to be diabolical for me to set it aside. I always try to finish what I start.
“Well, if you liked that, you should try Court of the Hollow Night. I’m almost done with it.”
I don’t mention that if she reads it, I can actually discuss a book with someone for once.
She continues to peruse the shelf. How does she already seem so comfortable here? It’s like a fatal flaw.
“I’ll keep it in mind.” She pauses. “Oh, wow. These are gorgeous.”
“Thanks.” I watch as she fiddles with the gilded lettering running down a collection of green leather spines. “They’re my Dickens books.”
“Did you know Charles Dickens had a pet raven?”
“Uh, no. I didn’t know that.”
“His name was Grip.”
“That’s… interesting.” I chew my lip, unsure of what to say to the random piece of information.
Avery powers on before I can catch up. “So you’re a collector?”
I shake my head. When she arches a brow, I know she won’t let it go until I give her a decent answer. Sifting through my words, I try to keep it brief. “They were my dad’s.”
“Were?” A noticeable sadness sneaks into her wide gaze.
This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. Any time my dad is mentioned in the past tense, people fear the worst.
“He’s not dead, just a deadbeat.” I attempt to smile. It must not land because Avery’s eyes widen even more, and I fear I’ve said the wrong thing.
But then she pipes up. “Well, he might suck, but at least he left you pretty books.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Did he like to read too?”
I nod, unsure if I should divulge more. It’s not something I like to think about. My parents being overwhelmed with twins, but instead of sticking it out and being a team player, he ditched us. Me, Maggie, my mom. He left her to fend for herself with two toddlers.
I clear my throat. “I don’t really have many memories of him. Left before we turned two. But I have a picture of him reading to me. And my mom said I got my love of books from him.”
Avery appraises me, her eyes scanning my face like she’s assessing if I’m about to crack or not. Which isn’t going to happen. I’ve spent years compartmentalizing that portion of my life. It’s locked up. Tight.
She must decide I seem okay because her face brightens as she steps toward me. “Sounds like he left you the only good things he had to offer: pretty books and pretty genes.”
Her nose scrunches as she smiles, like talking about my estranged father is as ordinary as commenting on the gas prices. It’s strangely refreshing. There’s no pity left in her eyes as they sparkle in my direction.
My mouth bobs open as all words vacate my mind. Wait. Did she just call me pretty? What am I supposed to say to that?
A guttural call echoes from the hall, and seconds later, Dollyboy runs into the room, a pink feathered toy clenched between his tiny jaws.
“He brought you a gift!” Avery coos.
And I’m grateful, not necessarily for the fuzzy present he drops at my feet, but for the interruption.
Avery has been switching the playbook on me left and right, and I’m trying my hardest to keep up.
A purr hums from Dolly as he stares up at us with content blue eyes.
I nudge the toy with my toe as Avery falls to her knees next to her cat.
She smiles and pets him, and he weaves between us both, eating up the attention.
Despite all of Avery’s chaos, I’m glad to have someone else using Maggie’s room.
I’m glad to have someone here who doesn’t tiptoe around tough subjects, no matter how awkward it may be.
And I’m glad that, despite the fact I’ve gotten used to sitting in a silent house flipping through my latest read, she and her cat are here interrupting me.
I hadn’t realized how much I needed it or how excruciatingly quiet this place had become.