Mother, Please! - By Brenda Novak & Jill Shalvis & Alison Kent Page 0,88
wasn’t talking about the leftover food or the dirty dishes at all. She could’ve ground the salad, the lasagna, hell, even the wine and salad dressing into oblivion, and nothing would change. She would still be caught up trying to fix what she thought was broken, to put her insular world back to rights.
She needed to understand that time had moved on without her. Or perhaps that was exactly what was going on. The very reason she was bent on destruction. God, but he hated seeing her hurt.
He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Avery, listen to me. I ate way too much and I need about twenty minutes on the couch before I can move. Then I’ll help you with the dishes.”
“I don’t need help with the dishes.”
“Maybe not. But I need to help you with them.” He took hold of her arm just above the elbow, yet he didn’t move until she made up her own mind to follow. They headed for the living room, and when she tried to sit in her overstuffed chair covered with blue-and-white mattress ticking, he guided her onto the matching loveseat and into his lap.
He snuggled back into the corner and took her with him, his legs extended and hers nicely draped over his. He liked the weight of her, liked it a lot. With one arm around her back, the other resting above her knees, he decided he could sit like this for a very long time and be a happy man.
Having a happy woman, though, would be even better. And to get there they were going to have to talk, no matter how much he enjoyed digesting in silence. With his eyes closed. And too often with his mouth open while he snored.
“Avery?”
“Humph.”
Not quite a full snort. He supposed that was a good sign. “Talk to me.”
“About what?” She settled farther down into his lap.
Another good sign. “Dinner went well, don’t you think?”
“I suppose,” she said, her tone not as petulant as before but still pensive.
“What did you think of Leslie?”
She hesitated for a moment, pushing her hair back from her face. “I thought you would’ve given me an I-told-you-so by now.”
“Gloating’s not really my style.”
She cast him a sideways glance. “What is your style, David? Just your average sneaky bastard type?”
“You think I’m sneaky?” He gave himself the benefit of the doubt and left out the bastard part.
“I think you have an agenda, yes.”
Well, yeah. He did. He wouldn’t be here otherwise. “That’s a pretty broad observation. I actually have several.”
“So you admit it?”
“Sure. Why not?” He shrugged, resting an elbow on the loveseat’s padded arm and playing with the ends of her hair. He was going to die if he didn’t get to feel her hair on his skin—and soon. “Doesn’t everyone have one or two? You included?”
This time she shifted away in order to face him straight on. “And, Mr. Know-It-All, I suppose my agendas are obvious to you.”
He shook his head, feeling his pulse pick up speed as he took this conversation deeper. “Only the one that’s kept you in Tatem all these years.”
Her expression blanked. “And that one would be, what?”
“Staying connected to your past, though I’m not sure of the why,” he added, then waited, expecting her to jump up and show him to the door.
When she didn’t, he began breathing normally again. He wanted so much from her, with her, yet knew he couldn’t force what she wasn’t ready to face.
“Where did you go when you left Tatem?” was what she finally asked.
“El Paso, why?” And why did he think she’d known that?
“Was it easier for you there than it had been when you’d come back to school here, you know,” she added with a hitch of her shoulder, “after your suspension?”
That suspension had been the hardest thing he’d ever had to face in his eighteen years. He’d never fit in; that was true enough. But school had always been a breeze. It was returning with a new reputation that had put stars in his eyes.
Yeah, he’d been cool. But he still hadn’t had Avery. “Easier? In a lot of ways, yeah. I blended. Didn’t stand out as a brain, or as the troublemaker that had my father moving us out of Tatem in the end.”
“But did you hate it?” she asked, yet what he heard was, But did you hate me? She was still caught up in their senior year because of what she thought she’d caused to happen