Grumbling to myself, I remove my vomit-stained shirt and throw it into the bed of my truck before jumping into the cab and kicking over the engine. Ava tries to be discreet, but I feel the heat of her eyes running over my body as I pull my truck into the car-lined street. After she’s finished her avid assessment, she fans her cheeks and shifts her gaze to the pitch black sky.
“Don’t you dare vomit in my truck,” I warn, my tone deadly serious. “It’s bad enough you hurled all over my favorite shirt, but if you vomit in my baby, I'll spank your ass.”
My statement is not an idle threat. If she fails to adhere to my warning, I will not hesitate to spank her ass. It took me hours of scrubbing to get her Skittle spit marks off the leather on my dash, but at least that smelled refreshing. I’ll never get rid of the smell of vomit.
When a chill runs the length of Ava’s spine, I lean over and adjust the temperature of the air-conditioning. She flashes me a quick smirk in gratitude but remains quiet.
The short four-mile trip from Jorgie’s house to our apartment building is made in complete silence, and thankfully, it’s vomit-free. After throwing my key to the parking valet, I run around my truck to help Ava down. She rolls her eyes and mumbles something about her not being a child before she jumps down unaided.
Any further protests halt when the heel of her shoes gets caught in the crack of the concrete and she stumbles onto her knees. Seeing that her knees are bruised and bloody, I scoop her into my arms and walk through the double glass revolving doors. Ava hides her tear-stained face in my bare chest. When Patty absorbs my shirtless frame approaching with Ava in my arms, he rushes to the elevator bank and hits the call button. Because of the late hour, the elevator immediately dings open.
“Thanks,” I say, pacing into the empty car. “Can you push the penthouse button?” I request.
Patty’s worldly eyes lift to mine. His gaze is apprehensive, his genuine concern for Ava beaming out of his eyes.
“I’ll look after her,” I assure him.
His eyes bounce between mine for a short while before he says, “Damn straight you will.”
“My security access code is 3156,” I advise after he hits the P as requested.
By the time the elevator arrives to the top floor, Ava is fast asleep, cradled in my arms. The sound of my heart pounding in my chest is the only noise I hear as I move through my penthouse to the guest bedrooms located in the hall. The desire to take Ava into my room is overwhelming, but until I’ve had the chance to apologize, I don’t need another imprudent decision added to my already long list of mistakes. I tug down the pastel pink comforter on the bed and gently lay Ava down.
The darkness of her hair is even more striking against the pale color of the sheets. She groans before rolling on her side, curling her legs up near her chest. Although I’m certain she has no liquid left in her stomach, I remove the plastic lining from the waste bin and place it beside the bed.
Once I’ve removed her shoes, I make my way to the bathroom, hoping my mom purchased some iodine and band aids when she stocked my fridge and pantry earlier this week. I send a quiet blessing to god for my mom when I find all the supplies I need to patch up the grazes on Ava’s knees.
Her face winces when the iodine is rubbed over the gash on her knee, but other than that, she is unaware of the medical procedure being undertaken while she is asleep. After tucking her in, I switch off the light and take my position in the chair in the corner of the room, not trusting that I'd hear Ava if she woke from the other side of my apartment. As her breathing shallows, my eyes flutter shut and my memories drift.
When I wake up the next morning, Ava is gone.
Twenty-Four
Ava
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I say, rushing into the office Patty and I have brunch at every Sunday. “I slept in.”
I step into the small space, wrangling with bags of breakfast foods I picked up at the corner café. Normally, I'd prepare a majority of the food we eat. But with a horrific hangover and a pounding headache, I decided to purchase our breakfast instead. I dump the bags onto the glass desk, then move to the cupboard at the side to grab the plates and cutlery. My heart leaps out of my chest when I crash into a solid chest. Even though I don’t need to lift my eyes to know who it is, I do.
“Good morning, Ava,” Hugo says, staring down at me. “What’s for breakfast?”
Snarling, I side-step him. “I didn’t buy enough for three.”
That’ a lie. I have enough food to feed an army, but I’m not going to tell him that. Prior to my drunken spectacle, today is the first time I’ve seen Hugo in a week. I’ve gone out of my way to ensure I haven’t had to associate with him. My desire was so vicious, when he turned up unannounced at Jorgie’s house, I scaled the fence between Jorgie and Mrs. Mable’s property just to avoid him. Mrs. Mable was both shocked and delighted by my impromptu visit.
Although she may not be next time when she realizes I was the one who added extra fertilizer to her award winning rose garden.I even went as far as sharing my aunt’s couch with her cats so I didn’t have to go back to my apartment and face him. I know avoidance isn’t the solution in any situation, but it is the only defense I have against Hugo and his alluring pull, so I’ve been using it to my full advantage.
After pinching the bridge of my nose to lessen my pounding headache, I amble to the cupboard and remove the cutlery and plates. The dishware clangs together when I aggressively throw it on the desk. Having the enormity of Hugo in this small space is too much for me to bear. There is nowhere I can escape from his familiar scent that makes my heart clutch every time I smell it.
“Where’s Patty?” I ask through clenched teeth.
If Patty doesn’t arrive soon, I need to leave. Being so close to Hugo hurts.
“It took a lot of convincing, but Patty agreed to give me five minutes alone with you,” Hugo replies, stepping closer to me.
My eyes rocket to his. “You’re going to need a hell of a lot more time than five minutes to fix all the mistakes you’ve made,” I sneer. “Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was having my personal life broadcasted to hundreds of people? I’ve never been more mortified in my life!” My angry voice roars around the small space.
Hugo stands at the side of the room as I unpack the array of food. He has his arms crossed in front of his chest and his eyes are tracking my every movement, but he remains so quiet, I'd be able to hear a pin dropping. My eyes continually dart to the clock on the wall, counting down the remaining seconds I'm subjected to the torture of smelling his intoxicating scent. I suck in a deep breath, endeavoring to get through the pain of having him stand so close but not being able to touch him. The crippling pain in my chest strengthens when I realize I’ll probably never get to touch him again.You can do this, Ava. Grow a back bone! Be strong!
