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Vivi shakes a finger at Wyatt, face scrunching. “Bad, Wyatt! You a bad boy!”
Adopting the cutest mask of shocked hurt, Wyatt slaps a hand over his heart. “I’m so sorry, Miss Vivi. Please forgive me.” His face dips to my ear. “Seriously, I’m an idiot. I don’t know a thing about women. I can barely handle my own mother.”
He might’ve been the one to give the crap-tastic advice, but Avery’s a big boy who makes his own decisions. I also recognize that my actions and words drove Avery to that cliff, to a spot where he felt helpless and didn’t know what to do. We both made mistakes, but I think what matters most is how we move past them from here, try to be better together.
I gesture at Sophie, Wyatt’s date from last night. She’s sitting at the table, chatting away and enjoying a beer. “You must know a little bit to land a girl like that. I had no idea you were dating someone.”
“Oh.” His light eyes grow, throat bobbing with his swallow. His gaze shifts over my shoulder as he shakes his head. “No, she’s not, uh…no. She’s not my girlfriend.”
I don’t have time to ask for clarification. His smile is brilliant as he moves by me.
“Harps!” Wyatt exclaims excitedly, grabbing Harper around the waist. He smashes her against his chest while she groans, moans, and tries her damn best to fight him off, grumbling something about dirty hands and STDs.
“You know you love me,” he teases affectionately, nuzzling her neck.
“I know I hate you,” she mumbles, shoving him off her, although her cheeks are the most interesting shade of pink.
My attention is drawn away when my brother tugs me into him.
He presses a chaste kiss to the top of my head. “Good things happen when you let go of what was never meant to be and embrace what life throws at you.” His patient eyes meet mine. “You’re the only person that can control your happiness, Claire, but I’m glad you’re giving Avery a chance to be a part of the equation.”
By the time Sunday night rolls around, my body has been well used in the most wonderful way. Loved on by Avery in every way imaginable, ways I had never been loved before. His searing touch, lingering stares, whispered words have all left their mark on me this weekend.
The tips of his fingers brush down the edge of my face where it’s nuzzled into his bare chest, the two of us snuggled up in bed while we watch a movie. He’s watching; I’m not. I’m too tired to move, to keep my eyes open any longer. All I can focus on is the way his chest rises and falls beneath the heat of my palm, the warmth of the dog curled up behind my knees.
Soft lips touch the crown of my head. “Bedtime?” Avery prompts gently.
I nod against him. “I’m so sleepy.”
He shifts me onto the pillows and turns away, the muscles in his back rippling as he reaches for the lamp, encasing the room in black. His thick arms pull me back into him as his body curls around mine, his lips pressing against my neck.
“Can I tell you something?” he whispers.
“Of course.”
A beat of silence stretches between us, and I swear I can hear his heart beating. Sweeping my hands over his forearms where they wrap around me, I lace my fingers with his and kiss his palm, silent encouragement for him to continue.
“I’m still scared I’ll wake up one morning and you’ll be gone.”
My heart stretches in my chest, a reminder that I’ve been unfair to him, that I’ve hurt him in ways I never wanted to hurt anyone. Turning in his hold, I lay my palm over his cheek. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Avery. That I gave you a reason to be wary of trusting me.”
His eyes shine in the dim glow of the moon that bathes the room. “I know that you were just trying to protect yourself.”
I wish I had never hurt him, but I can’t say that I regret trying to keep my distance. It’s confusing, to be honest, and maybe that’s why I don’t say it out loud. There’s no part of me that wants him to take it the wrong way, but I know how it’ll sound. I shouldn’t have gone to the bar the night we met, and I certainly shouldn’t have gone outside with him, kissed him.
Because what I should’ve been doing is giving myself time to heal, learning to love myself again, trust not only somebody else, but my own judgment. Because that’s part of the battle, isn’t it? Maybe the hardest part. How do I let someone else love me when I’m not even sure how to do it? How do I trust my judgment when it’s been so horribly wrong in the past?
But it feels right now. Everything feels right with Avery. Not perfect, not by a longshot. I don’t think that’s how relationships work, and I know we’ll have some work to do based on the way ours started, the damage somebody else did that I’m still trying to undo, that Avery wants to help me undo.
But I haven’t always been the best at letting people in, and I guess that’s where I need to start.
Cupping my face, Avery’s thumbs sweep across my cheekbones. “Are you still scared of all this?”
“Terrified,” I admit.
“What are you scared of?” His lips dot across every inch of my face before he sits up against the pillows, pulling me into his lap.
His fingers dance up and down my spine as I try to put my thoughts into words. But his touch is magic, lulling me into that safety blanket of comfort that he drapes me in whenever we’re together, the one that pushes me to be open and honest instead of retreating back into my shell.
