Page 88 of On the Breakaway

“If you blow me up,” Sloane warns, “I’ll delete your entire level history.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The room settles back into comfortable chaos after that.

Normally, this is the kind of night I can shut my brain off during. But I haven’t been able to focus since Wesley got here, missing one of the people usually attached to her hip.

Avery.

It’s been three weeks since I saw her at Wyatt’s party.

At first, I figured we were both busy. We’re in season. Our schedules are insane. Between travel and games, sometimes entire weeks disappear before anybody notices.

But then she skipped the Blue Line when the rest of the soccer team showed up. Next she missed Liam’s party even though they’re usually thick as thieves. And now, tonight, Wesley and Sloane showed up just to say that Avery didn’t feel like being social.

Which might be believable if it were anyone other than Avery.

If there’s a crowded room somewhere, she’s usually already inside, causing problems.

So no, I don’t think it’s a coincidence anymore.

Avery avoiding me usually comes with insults attached to it. A middle finger. An argument. Or some type of comment to make sure I know exactly where to go and how fast to get there.

This quiet disappearance feels different.

I know why she’s doing it, at least partly.

When I’d tried to get her to open up about what she said to Harper, the panic on her face stopped me in my tracks. Her words were thick with embarrassment as if she’d been hoping I would ignore it altogether. So I did, but I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

Avery curled sideways in the back seat, holding her best friend together while she let herself fall apart. About the crack in her voice when she talked about her ex. About the way she looked at me after I used her actual name instead of Chaos, as if I’d crossed some invisible line neither of us had acknowledged before.

And this disappearing act shows that she hadn’t forgotten it either.

“Are you even listening?” Nathan tosses a pretzel at my head.

“Not remotely.” I shrug.

“Wesley asked if you wanted popcorn.”

Instead of answering, I hop off the couch and head to the kitchen, finding Wesley dumping butter into her bowl.

“How’s um, Harper, been since Wyatt’s?” It feels like the safer question, even if it’s not the one I want to ask.

Wesley pops a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Her usual self. Hopefully, she and James are working out their issues. Harper and Avery told me you gave them a ride home. That was nice of you.”

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

I hate myself for what I’m about to ask.

“So, where are they tonight? You guys are usually a package deal.”

“Harper had to grade papers.”

I wait for the rest of her answer, but it doesn’t come.

Fucking hell.

I cave. “And Avery?”