Chapter 22
Eli
I didn’t sleep. Not a wink.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ava’s drunk stare, felt her hands on me. My brain started asking, what if? What if I kissed her? What if she wanted me, too? She had to, right? Why else would she go through my stuff? I hope she knew how much hotter she was than any of the women in my magazine.
Her truck crunched up to the house, and I met her on the porch.
Nina ran straight to me, holding a rock bigger than her hand. “E-why, look!”
“Whoa! Cool rock, monkey.”
“I’m not a monkey!”
“No?” I crouched to her level. “But you like bananas.”
She stomped her foot. “I’m not a monkey. I’m a girl!”
“Okay. Okay! But, I like bananas.” I pretended to think. “Maybe I’m the monkey.”
“No!” she giggled. “You’re sexy!”
I swear, the whole world went silent.
My eyes cut to Ava, who stood still as a statue. Her face matched Nina’s ladybug backpack.
“I’m what?”
“Sexy!” Loud and clear.
I had no control over the smile that hijacked my face. “Where’d you hear that?”
Ava suddenly reanimated, rushing over with Nina’s stuff. “Can you bring this in? I have to run. We’re a little behind this morning.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
Her skin brushed against mine as she unloaded all of Nina’s bags into my arms. It made my hair stand on end. The woman was magnetic. She was halfway back to her truck as she called, “Bye, Crackerjack!”
I dumped the stuff in a chair and chased after her. “Hey, uh, Dad’s got a doctor’s appointment. So, I’m gonna watch Nina solo today.”
Her face fell. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just some routine thing.” She was close enough I coulda tucked her hair behind her ear again.
“Okay. Um, make sure Nina eats three food groups for lunch? It’s all in there.” She pointed to the lunch bag.
“Three food groups, got it.”
“And she takes a nap at one-thirty.”
“Yup.”
Her eyes veered to my smile. “Don’t let her sweet-talk you out of it, or she’ll be a nightmare later. Oh, and I need to make a stop after work.” She grimaced. “It might be an hour?” Then, she glanced around the property, everywhere but me. “Is August coming today?”
“No. Hey, Ava?” I waited till her gaze hit mine. “You look nice.”
“T-thanks.”
I shifted my weight, leaning closer. She froze as I pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Have a good day.”
I knew I would. She thought I was sexy.
Shit.
Shit! Ava’s gonna kill me. Dad went outside to meet her in the driveway. The day couldn’t get any worse.
I sat with Nina on the leather couch in the living room, bouncing my knee, but the kid started moaning, so I made it stop.
The couch was too stiff and too brown. It needed one of Mom’s bright pillows.
‘Course, we didn’t have them anymore. My muscles itched to move, but Nina was leaning on me, cradling one skinny arm.
Her eyes looked just like her mom’s when she cried.
The front door opened, and feet fell in rapid succession across the tile.
Here it came–my slow, brutal death. I wasn’t ready.
“Nina?” Ava ran in, dropping her purse on the floor. “Nina, baby, are you okay?” She landed on her knees in front of the couch and inspected the kid, oblivious to how her body rubbed against my leg. Oblivious that I was there at all. “Does your arm hurt?”
New tears leaked as Nina reached her good limb out to her mom. Ava pulled her into her lap.
“We iced her arm,” Dad said. “But she moans every time we touch it.”
Ava nodded, rubbing Nina’s leg, her head, her good shoulder. “Okay.”
The arm was broken. I knew it was. And I hated being helpless. When I popped off the couch, Dad eyed me with a warning. Still, I said, “Want me to pick up some baby aspirin, or something?”
“No, thank you.” Ava combed Nina’s hair with her fingers. “Hey, Crackerjack, we need to go to the doctor, so they can x-ray your arm.”
Nina wailed, adding another layer of tears and snot to her face.
I squatted next to them. “Hey Kiddo, listen to your mom. She knows what to do.”
Ava’s sharp, angry eyes sliced to me. “Back off.”
“Come on! It’s not like I dropped her off the roof. It was an accident.”
“Jesus, Eli.” Dad tipped his head back as if the savior might drop through the ceiling and fix this.
Ava stood with Nina, fitted in her usual hip spot.
I followed. “Ava, I’m sorry.”
“I can’t believe you let her climb the rails!”
“She’s a kid. Kids climb. I was watching her the whole time.”
“Until you weren’t? What were you thinking?” Ava squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose.
Great, now she was gonna cry. Two for two. One of Mom’s cushions would’ve been handy right about then. To smother myself with. I already felt shitty about the whole thing. “I get you’re upset. Let me help.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“Because of this?” This being the broken arm.
Ava inhaled, and I braced for it. “Did she eat lunch?”
I didn’t answer.
“Did she nap?”
“Her arm was hurting.”
“That’s why, Eli.” She shook her head. “I should’ve just brought her to work with me.”
I wasn’t a total screw-up! We had a great day until she fell. “You had her car seat! I couldn’t leave her here to pick up pain meds. What should I have done, huh?”
“Eli,” Dad warned, again.
No. I wouldn’t stand there and not defend myself. “Kids climb. It’s what they do, Ava.”
Her expression turned so dark that the last few weeks of my life flashed before my eyes. “Fine. Let her climb one rung. Maybe two. But to the top of the fence? I mean, come on, Eli! She’s three! Have some common sense!”
I’d been accused of a lot, but lacking common sense? Never. “You can’t protect her from everything. Kids get hurt. That’s life!”
“No. This accident was totally preventable! You made a bad call.”
I raised my voice to be heard over Nina’s crying. “Lots of people make bad calls. Even the parents, sometimes! Casts come in colors for a reason. She can pick a pink one! Unless you feel the need to choose one for her!”
“Elijah Tremain Anderson!” Dad hollered. “Take a lap and cool your engine.”
But Ava wasn’t done. “She shouldn’t have to pick a color! Or spend the day in a hospital being poked and prodded!”
“Ava, you’re being–”
“What? What am I being? A mother?” Ava’s glare was lethal, on the verge of drawing blood. “Well, I was a mother long before I met you. So, don’t tell me how to raise my child!”
“That’s enough!” Dad’s authority boomed through the room. “Ava, take Nina to the hospital. Eli, take a minute somewhere else.”
I clamped my jaw shut long enough for them to leave the house. Let her be mad. Life happened. It didn’t wait for permission. She should know better than anyone.
Dad closed the front door, and the room filled with silence.
This was high school all over again, me staring at my boots, waiting for a scolding.
After the customary pause meant to light the flame of self-reflection, all he said was, “That could’ve gone better.
” Then he crossed the tile floor and disappeared into the master suite.
He didn’t call me reckless or rag on me for being hot-headed.
He didn’t have to.
For the first time since Ava showed up, I felt the pull of the open road–no expectations, no responsibilities. No one to disappoint. Did it make me happy? Maybe not, but it beat the cocktail sloshing around in my stomach.
“Damnit.”
I stormed through the mudroom, up the garage stairs to my studio. Opened all the cabinets and drawers and stared at their contents. How long would it take to pack it all up? Less time than it takes to cast a kid’s arm, I bet.
Even with the big windows, the room was suffocating, the walls closing in.
What the hell was I doing there? I hadn’t managed a single task Dad asked me to do.
The place was losing money. Even if I found him a manager, how would he pay them?
What was his deal with this house? This ranch?
I took off my hat, flexed the faded bill, stared at the frayed seams. The hat my mom gave me on my first day of seventh grade. Her last gift.
Dang it. I couldn’t leave. Dad loved this place, and long before this asinine summer commitment, I’d made a promise to Mom. I paused at the window, frowned at the tire tracks Ava’s truck left behind.
If I’d learned anything about emergency room visits, it’d be late when they got home. Would she grab something to eat on the way back? Or skip dinner to get Nina into bed? I ran a hand through my hair, then returned my hat to where it lived nearly every waking hour.
What would Mom do?
The container of spaghetti sat in an insulated chest on the seat next to me. Ava’s truck wasn’t at her apartment yet.
I shut off my engine and waited. Shadows stretched as the sun went down, but the heat refused to follow.
My mind chewed on the ranch, Luke, mornings that smelled like frying bacon instead of cheap hotel soap.
I couldn’t take my weights on the road. Having laundry so close was a huge plus.
But those were comforts, not necessities.
People were always saying, “Less is more.” And I’d always been fine with less.
A familiar set of yellowed headlights bounced into the parking lot.
My chest squeezed. Should I jump out to help her?
Or wait until she put her stuff down? She slid out of her Chevy, threw a bunch of bags over her shoulder, then trekked to the passenger side, reappearing with a sleeping Nina draped across her chest. Spaghetti soured in my stomach.
A bright red cast ran all the way up the kid’s arm.
As Ava hoofed up the stairs to her apartment, I grabbed the cooler, hand on the door handle, but I hesitated.
Here, Ava, have some mediocre spaghetti.
This plan felt stupid now. Especially seeing how late they rolled in.
And sitting in that sterile hospital room probably killed her appetite.
I was just about to abort this stupid mission when movement caught my eye on the lower level.
“Oh, hell no.” I left the spaghetti in the truck.
A familiar suit started up the outside steps. Steven made quick work, crowding Ava on her own stoop.
“What do you want?” she growled.