Chapter 25 #2
“I really am sorry, Ava. Again. I seem to be saying that a lot lately. I’m not even sure I can blame my behavior on the TBI. I think we could have something here. I want to try. But I do need to know if me being the way I am would be enough for you.”
Her arms cross over her body. “And I need to know if you being here is simply out of obligation.”
“I really don’t think it is. But I guess we both have a lot of shit to figure out.”
She stares at me oddly.
“Okay, I have to ask. Did I never curse before?”
“There are a lot of things you do now that you didn’t do before.”
“Like what?”
As she lists them off, I try not to get pissed, because I did ask.
But all of this falls under the ‘can you accept me as I am’ category.
So while it does upset me, I once again try to put myself in her position.
She has to get used to an entirely new me while I’m starting from scratch without any expectations of her.
I’m not the one risking feelings of disappointment here, she is.
My eyebrows hit the ceiling when one of the things she says is that I make love differently.
“Wait,” I say, stopping her. “I don’t fuck the same way?”
She winces. “We never fucked, Trevor. We made love.”
So many angry words are on the tip of my tongue right now. Is she seriously dissing the way I was in bed? That’s something any man would take issue with, right? But I need to rein myself in. Most of those words might have her tossing me out on my ass.
Do better.
I run a hand across my jaw, and then look at my palm, remembering she said this was one of the things I never did before.
I search my brain for something non-confrontational to say.
Because I get the feeling saying something like ‘well, your two orgasms sure as hell prove how much you liked it’ might earn me a slap on the face before she shoves me back out the door.
Instead of going on the defensive, I take a completely different approach. I push off the doorway and stroll slowly across the room. Trapping her against the counter, one arm on either side of her, I raise an authoritative brow. “But did you like it?”
She swallows hard as she gazes up at me. And damn it if a blush doesn’t sweep up her face.
Internally, I gloat. She liked it, alright. She just doesn’t want to admit it.
She lowers herself enough to slink underneath one of my arms and clears her throat. “How about I help you make up the sofa bed?”
When I don’t follow, she looks back over her shoulder.
“Do you, um, need help with your things?”
I shrug a backpack off my shoulder and hold it up.
It’s not even very heavy, I haven’t accumulated much in the way of clothing or personal items. “This is it. I don’t have any things to bring, Ava.
I live here, remember? All my stuff is between these walls.
” I stride toward her and come within an inch of her back.
Then I whisper, “I got the sofa as a backup. Maybe we should sleep in the same bed.”
She spins, looking more than a little surprised. “What happened to baby steps, Trevor?”
“I think baby steps flew out the window after what we did earlier.”
She scoffs. “And you’re thinking now that we’ve slept together you can just get it whenever you want it? Trevor, what we did this morning wasn’t some well-thought-out escapade. It was spontaneous, and maybe a little reckless considering… well, considering we barely even know each other anymore.”
I want to remind her of the two orgasms I gave her earlier.
But again, I’m biting my tongue. Because apparently, my spontaneous jackass remarks are also one of the things I never did before.
I was actually trying to be romantic or whatever, but she took it completely the wrong way.
Or maybe I said it the wrong way. Either way, I can tell by the look on her face there’s not a chance in hell I’ll be joining her in bed tonight.
I back away. “How about you just show me where to find the sheets. I can make up the sofa bed myself.”
She points to a closet in the hallway. “I keep the spare sheets there. They should fit.” She disappears into the master and comes back with a pillow, shoving it at me. “You can use this. Goodnight, Trevor.”
Before I can say a single word, the door to her bedroom closes.
Fuck.
I open the hallway closet and get out the spare sheets.
Then I make up the bed and sit on the edge, slumped over, elbows on my knees, thinking of how badly I screwed this up.
It didn’t go at all as I’d planned. I should have just told her I wasn’t expecting sex.
That it was great, and I had fun, but that I shouldn’t have left that way and can we please start over and maybe go out to dinner or something.
But I didn’t. Because apparently new Trevor is shit at saying things in a way women understand.
My phone pings with a text from Jaxon.
Jaxon
The media is at it again.
There’s a link to a news article. The headline reads: Amnesia Doctor in Calloway Creek, NY performs emergency tracheotomy on coffee shop floor.
For fuck’s sake, won’t they ever get tired of writing about me?
I haven’t seen any reporters in over a week. Got my hopes up that they were leaving me alone. Apparently, they were still lingering in the shadows. Either that, or someone at the coffee house blabbed.
Not bothering to read the article, I go to plug my phone in. When I set it on the desk, something next to it gets my attention. It’s the box of letters Ava had under the tree that day. And next to it, her diary.
Is this where she sits and reads them? Does she even know they’re in here?
Or did she leave them here deliberately, hoping I’d go on a trip down memory lane?
Deciding them being here is an invitation, I pick up the diary and open it to a random page. And then I start reading.