Make My Move (Hannaford Prep #5) - J. Bree Page 0,66
Avery safe and, fuck, alive so don’t give her shit just for helping out,” Harley says, his voice tense as we make our way down to the gym.
Blaise is hungover, the normal type for this early in the morning, but he side-eyes the fuck out of both of us like he wants to get a word in but just can’t bring himself to start this fight all over again.
I get the feeling.
All I’ve done this year is fight. With Avery, with the Mounty, Harley, and myself. It’s all been for nothing, I’m right where I didn’t want to be.
“I’m here to support Avery; I won’t say a word to the Mounty so just drop it.”
Harley gives me one last disbelieving look and then shoves the door open to the gym. The girls are both already dressed in gym clothes and Lips is running Avery through lessons, ignoring every grumble and whine that comes out of my sister.
I grab a seat to watch, dragging it over to have a better view, and Harley and Blaise both do the same.
The longer the lesson goes on, the more I wonder about exactly where the Mounty learned all of this and what her life looks like back in the Bay because… there’s nothing basic about this lesson. Sure teaching my sister not to tuck her thumb in is common sense but the stances and target points aren’t at all basic shit. She didn’t learn about that level of centering at a youth group self-defense class back in the Bay.
Harley shares a look with me, seeing it all as well.
Someday we need to figure out where the fuck she comes from.
When they stop for a break, Avery looks like she’s done a four hour hip hop class and isn’t at all happy about it. The Mounty is completely unruffled, calm and contained even in the thick hoodie she’s wearing.
“Do they teach this in Mounty school?” drawls Blaise, but his eyes are still glued on the Mounty like he wants to fucking jump her.
I don’t like it and neither does Harley.
Avery spots it from a mile away and comes trotting over to me, ready to deflect and distract so Lips doesn’t get caught in the crossfire. Always the fixer, the caretaker, and the glue to hold us all together no matter what.
We’d be lost without her.
“She’s good,” I say, and Avery smiles at me like I hung the moon just for her.
“She is, she’s the best. If I have to learn this, there’s no one better to teach me.”
I nod because it’s true and I’m tired of fighting everything. I’m just fucking weary, and Avery has always been my safe space to come home to, to be myself and feel whatever the fuck I needed to feel around.
The Mounty changed that and I hated her for it… but it was my own fault.
Lips calls out to us, “We still have more to cover, Aves, so get your ass back over here.”
She groans and drags her feet as she walks back over to her. “I’m not strong like you, Lips. I can’t do this.”
That’s a load of shit.
Avery is one of the strongest people I know; strength isn’t just the ability to fight.
Lips sighs and leans her ass against the boxing ring, her arms crossed against her chest as she gives Avery a look that says she sees through her bullshit. “You think that because you’ve always had Ash or Harley or Blaise around to protect you but you’re wrong. You exercise six days a week. Some days you do three sessions. You’ve never broken a bone, no nerve damage, and when you froze at what Rory was doing it was fear not PTSD. Physically, you are stronger than me. What I am teaching you is the basics of self defense but the most important, the most valuable thing you need is something you already have.”
Shit.
She’s fucking good.
I stalk back over to my seat, ready for them to get back into it.
Lips ignores Avery huffing and crossing her arms as she continues her assessment. “You’re observant and intuitive. You can look at a student and make a quick assessment of what weaknesses they have and how to exploit them to take them out. So far you’ve used that strength to socially ruin the sheep but you can easily switch to reading body language and defending yourself. You’re better at it than anyone I’ve met, you’re as good as I am. You may end up better than me