Chapter 11
“Why do you have so many photos of the car in here? Did the shop break it again?” Lori scrolls past the pictures of kittens and straight into another section.
“Oh, they’re for Dean.” Ava’s reply is reflexive and her regret instant.
She hasn’t talked to Lori about Dean and doing it now, while they’re discussing the incident with another inmate over coffee, isn’t how she planned to ease into the topic. If she had any plans at all, and at this point, she doesn’t. Anything she says about this fledgling relationship will come out wrong anyway, and this couldn’t be worse timing. Word spread through the grapevine like it always does and before she knew it, Lori showed up at her door, worried for Ava’s safety and insisting they talk about what happened.
“Who’s Dean?” Lori’s tone turns curious. She’s been trying to get Ava on a dating app for months.
“No one, just some guy from work. He used to fix cars, and I mentioned mine to him. I was showing him photos of the problem. It’s nothing. I’m trying to get someone to fix this thing for free, that’s all. I barely even know him. It’s nothing.”
She said it’s no one and nothing more than once, which usually means it’s something. Add to that her over-explaining of the situation and she’s only set herself up for more interrogation.
Lori side-eyes her. “Why not invite him over to see for himself?”
“Because I don’t want a man in my driveway or my house or my life. How about that?”
“And yet you did this thing when you said his name, a weird smiley sort of thing, and then you snatched the phone back like I was about to scroll through the dick pics he sent you.”
Ava gasps. “What? No! He didn’t…there isn’t…stop. It isn’t like that.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. But if it is like that, then I approve because you know all I want is for you to be happy, right? You deserve it. So long as he isn’t one of the inmates, then please continue whatever isn’t going on here.”
She’s about to force a laugh and speed right into denial, but her instinctual reaction to tilt her gaze to the side is guilty, and the slight cringe she can’t control doesn’t help matters.
“No.” Lori’s mouth falls open in dismay. “Tell me he’s not. Ava, tell me this Dean guy is not one of the inmates.”
She needs to lie to her best friend. Her only friend. Not to defend Dean or herself, but to avoid the disappointment she’ll see on Lori’s face at finding out the truth. The impending disapproval from one of the few people who gives a shit about her feels worse than she expected it to when she imagined how this conversation might go.
“It’s not what you think,” she replies. “He’s different than the others.”
Well shit, that sounds far worse spoken out loud. She’s only digging herself a bigger hole, judging by how Lori’s face falls. They stare at each other while her friend tries to formulate a reply, and the wait chafes at Ava’s remaining nerves, convincing her that Lori is about to phone her husband this instant and get her fired or have Dean reprimanded.
“I don’t know what I think. I’m worried,” Lori says softly, pausing to take a deep breath. “It’s not a good idea for any of them to have personal information about you. You know that.”
“I do know that. Especially after what happened, even before yesterday. I’m not giving him my address or my license plate number. It was a few photos, that’s it. It’s not as scandalous as you’re making it out to be. It was one time.”
They don’t talk about the obvious fact that all of this is against the rules and could cost her a well-paying job. That much is obvious. If it were up to Ava, they’d drop the entire thing. She’s not in the mood to justify what she’s been doing with Dean. Not now, maybe not ever.
Lori is still too worried to let this conversation die off. “Why though? I don’t get it.”
Why talk to this one? Why break the rules for him? Why is he different? All perfectly reasonable questions, but how does she explain it to someone else when she’s already failed to explain it to herself?
“He’s never been in prison before. He’s not dangerous. He’s kind to me, and what I said before was true. I asked him what he did for a living and he said cars and I just blurted out all the trouble I have with mine. Fast forward to showing him a few pictures. That’s really all there is to it, Lori. You don’t have to be worried about me. We’re only friends. I can have friends, right?”
“When you tell me something is going on with some guy from the prison, of course, I think the worst. You should hear some of the stories Greg tells me about the ones with pen pals, how they get women to give them things, money for commissary, gifts, bring them drugs…so yes, I’m gonna worry.” She pauses, palming her coffee cup, her words careful. “I know it’s been hard for you since the accident. A little lonely maybe and that’s normal, okay? I just don’t want to see you get hurt, Ava. In any sense of the word. You’re in a vulnerable position right now and I’d hate for someone to take advantage of your good heart.”
Lori is trying her best to be calm and considerate, but the pity in her tone taints the intent. She has every reason to worry, though. Ava already knows she’s a terrible judge of character and wouldn’t it be just like her to pick the wrong man a second time and get mixed up in a situation that’ll leave her heartbroken, or physically broken?
“He’s not taking advantage of me because nothing’s happening. I promise.”
“Of course. I’m sorry. I’m butting in and blowing this up. If you say it’s nothing, then it’s nothing,” Lori says with a small smile.
“Please don’t tell Greg. This man doesn’t deserve to get in trouble over this. He only has six months.”
‘Can you lie to your husband for me?’ is asking a lot, but she’s already in the trenches, so she may as well go all in.
Lori frowns. “I won’t bring it up, but if he does for whatever reason—”
“Okay, that’s fair. Thank you.”
It’ll have to be enough for now and Ava can only hope that Greg has no reason whatsoever to bring his work home with him and discuss Dean with Lori. She tries to forget this uncomfortable conversation as they shift to talking about all the new vegetables growing in Lori’s garden, but her comment about the inmates convincing women to give them things sticks in her mind.
She thinks back to all the little perks here and there that she’s been providing for Dean. She hasn’t given him money, but he’s gotten extra food and time in the infirmary that would seem like a vacation to anyone in the pod.
All those pieces of chocolate she’s handed him, every fluffy dinner roll, and every takeout meal make her wonder if she’s being played. If he only seems to enjoy her company because she has the power to make things easier for him. Not a lot easier, but perspective is skewed in there and a few candy bars are like gold currency in prison. It could be leading to something else. Get her comfortable offering smaller items and then work up to bringing him real contraband.
Her gut sinks. Lori could be right. She trusted too quickly and was too lonely and desperate to realize what was happening until he already had his hooks in her.
She doesn’t think Dean would take advantage, but she’s been wrong about men before. Her one and only relationship left her with broken bones and dislocated shoulders, trips to the emergency room, and black eyes. John was as kind as Dean in the beginning. Charming. Sweet. Disarming. It was nothing but a trick to lure her into a false sense of security and there’s a chance history is repeating itself.
* * *
By the next morning, she’s convinced that this was a mistake and Lori was right.
She should know better. She’s been reckless in allowing it to get this far and has every intention of telling Dean they can’t continue like this. He only has one more day left in the infirmary and once he’s back in the pod it’ll be easier to let it fade away. No smiles, no touching, no letting herself think she can rationalize this into something it never was.
It’s not too late to fix this.
When she sees Dean the following day, he’s looking away from her out the window, and there’s a split second between when he’s aware of her and when he schools his face, where she thinks he might grace her with a full smile. Not one of those guarded half grins that he censors himself with, but a smile that creases the corners of his eyes and betrays how happy he is to see her.
It almost breaks through the surface until he wrangles it back down to a more reasonable level. Dean is not the type to throw smiles out on a whim. He is careful and withdrawn, often choosing a shy duck of the head or a quick smirk instead, but today she almost got a real one and all she had to do was stand here.
His happiness to see her is instant and clear, even if he buffers back into a semi-neutral expression. It doesn’t last before a worried frown takes over. “Hey, is everything alright? You look upset.”
She’s upset because she’s about to tell him that they can’t keep doing whatever they’re doing. She has to get it over with before it drowns her or before she has second thoughts. Doubt already creeps in like she knew it would the moment she saw him.
“I um, I couldn’t bring any chocolate today,” she says with an awkward shrug, testing his reaction to her lack of offerings. “And you’re finished with your meds…I can’t give you more.”
“Oh. That’s fine. I’m feeling better anyway. You had me worried for a second. Came in looking like someone kicked a puppy across four lanes of traffic. Sure you’re okay?”
She spent last night and this morning running through all the reasons to put a stop to this, but now all she can think of are all the moments when he’d proven to her that he had no ulterior motive.
Every time he refused when she offered him something, not wanting to risk her job.
He’s never once asked for a favor. Never alluded to something he needed.
All the time they spend together enjoying each other’s company far outweighs anything that could be a transaction.
She takes up a seat by his bedside, leaning her elbows on her knees, keeping enough distance between them to avoid accidental touching. “What are we doing?”
It’s a blunt question because she doesn’t know how else to ask and pretending everything is fine wouldn’t be fair to him.
A look of confusion and then realization crosses his face. “I dunno. I was hoping we’d figure it out somehow.”
“I don’t have the best track record when it comes to relationships, not that we’re in one, or that we could be. I just mean that I don’t have a lot of trust in myself to make good choices.”
“Did I do something to make you think this is a bad choice?”
“No.” She leans back, shaking her head, frustrated at how complicated this all feels. “Quite the opposite actually, but someone got in my head about it and now I’m second-guessing myself. So…you know…if this is all some elaborate long game to con me into bringing you crack so you can sell it to the other inmates, just let me know now? We can laugh about it and pretend none of this ever happened.”
“You think I’m grooming you to be my drug mule?” He deadpans with a slow blink.
She huffs. “Well, not when you say it like that. Now it sounds ridiculous.”
There’s a flicker of hurt in his eyes that slices through her chest and makes a home in her heart, but then it’s gone again. “Listen, this is weird. I ain’t gonna say it’s not. Being here makes everything weird. But all I know is that I like seeing you. Like spending time with you, maybe more than I wanna admit.”
There is a reason she trusted him enough to tell him what happened to her in the infirmary a few years ago. There is a reason she ran to him the other day when she was afraid, her first instinct being to seek out the person she felt safest with.
“But hey, I get it if you don’t trust me. You ain’t got much reason to. If you wanna stop—”
“I do trust you, that’s not it. It’s me I don’t trust.”
Deans fingers twitch against the bedsheets before he reaches out for her, and despite her doubts, she takes his hand, letting him curl his fingers around hers. “I don’t have the best track record with relationships either. Never actually been in one. Not that I’m expecting anything here, I’m not.”
She is surprised by his confession, if only because he’d make such an appealing partner. She never asked if he had someone waiting on the outside because it didn’t matter. They weren’t doing anything that required that sort of conversation, but now there is a shift from all their talk of ‘just friends’ that opens the door to something more.
“I’m not either,” she replies softly. “Expecting anything. But I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”
She came here to put an end to their visits, and she’s doing the exact opposite. Ingrained insecurities remind her that she’s foolish to think he’d want her. They ignore every obvious signal he’s given and whisper instead that she’s hopeless, worthless, and everything John ever told her was true.
She waits for rejection, ready to crumble, but he only smiles. One of those rare big ones that she knew existed but hadn’t seen in the wild until now. Then he brings her hand up to brush his lips over her knuckles in a barely there kiss, so careful and chaste but more than enough to prompt her sharp inhale and make her heartbeat stutter.
“Ima need you to swallow a couple baggies of drugs for me first,” he says, staring at her a beat before laughing.
She pokes him in the arm, her own laughter joining his. “Not funny!”
“Come on, it’s a little funny.” His hold on her hand tightens a fraction, his voice serious all over again. “We’re good, right? You’re sure?”
Is she sure? If she isn’t, then now would be the time to say something. She convinced herself this morning that he thought nothing of her except that she was an easy mark. Someone useable. Someone simple to throw away once he got what he wanted.
Now, she only feels bad for doubting his character, even though she doubted her own judgment more.
“I’m sure. Are we still on for lunch today? You need to check your schedule?” she jokes.
“Pfft. Got a lot on the books but, hell yeah. Wanna know what happened on the next episode of that show.”
“Oh, I see now, you want spoilers. I should cut you off cold turkey and force you to watch it when you get out.”
He shrugs. “Sit next to me and I’ll watch whatever show you put on.”
Dammit. It’s not even the words that get her, but how he says them, always sincere, never a pickup line. Even now, he doesn’t seem to realize that he asked her to Netflix and chill with him. It’s endearing in a way she’s not used to, not prepared for, and didn’t think actually existed.
“I might hold you to that,” she replies.
“I hope so.”