Come Again

by Kate, Jiffy

  “One of the jobs our volunteers do for us is organizing and maintaining the pantry. It’s important for us to always have an updated list of supplies. It helps us know what we need when donors offer their assistance. We like to be specific. Although, we’ll accept anything, it’s more beneficial if we get the things we actually need.”

  “Makes sense,” I tell her with a nod, my eyes still perusing the shelves. “Where do you get the necessary donations...the funds for something like this?” I ask.

  “The church,” she says with a nod. “They do a lot for us, but most of their donations are reserved for maintaining the house and paying the utilities. We depend on outside donors and an annual fundraiser to supply everything else. That’s why volunteers are so important. Most people don’t think about all the menial tasks that go undone in a place like this without help.” She pauses, stepping out of the pantry and down the hall to an industrial looking kitchen. Something about it reminds me of the kitchen at the cooking school.

  “This is nice,” I tell her, running my hand along the cool, stainless steel.

  “Private donor,” she says. “Karin, our director, is good friends with several local business owners. One of them not only made the donation for everything in here, he paid for all of the remodel...sent his own guys to do it and everything.” She gives me an impressed smile, then exhales as she walks out of the kitchen, but I’m left standing there.

  Deep down, I know it’s Shaw who did this. I don’t even have to ask.

  The thought of him accompanied with thoughts of his big, generous heart makes me feel weak. For the last few days, I’ve wanted to reach out to him, contact him, but I don’t know why or what I would say. What would be the reason? If he’s not willing to be honest with me, I don’t see any chance for us to have anything more than the one, amazing night we shared. Because I’m not that girl.

  I don’t have sex with people just for pleasure.

  I don’t give everything to someone who refuses to give me everything in return.

  I’m not going to stick around and get my heart broken.

  Been there.

  Done that.

  As much as it hurt to walk away, I feel proud of myself for doing so. One thing Brant taught me is that I deserve someone who treats me good and I never want to put myself on the back burner for anyone ever again. The next relationship I’m in will be one based on love and mutual respect.

  “Avery,” Samantha calls out, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Coming.” I give the kitchen one last look before walking out, meeting Samantha in the hall where she shows me the large room. There’s a television in the corner, a few toys in a box, and about twenty cots.

  “Today, we’ll be washing up bedding, getting it ready for some new-comers.”

  I nod my head. “Sounds great,” I tell her, needing to feel useful and get out of my head. “Point me in the direction of the laundry room.”

  Chapter 26

  Shaw

  When I pull my Jeep into the driveway of Charity House, I try to ignore the uneasy feeling in my gut. Of course, I’ve been here since Jeremy died but I don’t stay as long as I used to. It still feels too weird being here knowing he’s gone and not coming back. My head knows Karin and I did all that we could, but my heart still feels guilty, causing me to wonder what else I could’ve done to help him.

  Walking across the yard to get to the front door, something down the road catches my eye. Under the streetlight at the end of the block, a woman is standing there, her light blonde hair swirling around her face as she waits in line for a streetcar and my mind immediately thinks of Avery.

  Could it be Avery?

  Could she be this close to me?

  If so, what is she doing here?

  Those questions lead to others that make my heart race.

  Does she miss me?

  Does she think of me at all?

  I watch as the woman steps into the streetcar and force my feet to not run to her as I wait for it to drive away. If I would’ve run over there, what would I have done? Demand she speak to me? Beg her to let me explain myself?

  Yes. That’s exactly what I would’ve done and now I’m pissed at myself for not trying harder but it probably wasn’t even her.

  “Is everything okay, Shaw?”

  I look over and see Karin standing on the front porch, eyeing me with caution. Who can blame her? Here I am, standing in the middle of the yard, clutching a large box to my chest, while staring down the road like an idiot.

  For fuck’s sake, Shaw. Get it together.

  “Uh, yeah. I just thought I saw someone I knew,” I use my chin to point in the direction I’m looking since my hands are full.

  “Oh, okay. Need any help?”

  “Nah, I got it.”

  She holds the door open for me as I step in and head straight for the kitchen and set the box on the counter.

  “What do you have for us tonight?”

  “Biscuits and gravy from Sarah.” I take everything out of the box so Karin can store the food however she wants. I learned early on in our friendship she likes to do things in a very certain way, so I know when to step back and let her run the show.

  “This smells amazing. Please tell Sarah I said thank you.”

  “You know I will. Got anything else you need me to do? When I was here the other day, Samantha said you had some new fixtures that needed to be installed. Have they been done yet?”

  “I don’t think they have, now that you mention it. They’re for the upstairs bathroom. I can show you.”

  “Let me go get my tool box and I’ll meet you there.”

  Karin nods then starts walking up the stairs as I head for the door. Naturally, as I jog to my Jeep, I look up and down the street, taking a chance the woman will be there again.

  And then I do the same thing as I walk back to the house.

  Heavy metal music blares through my earbuds as I jog through my neighborhood, pushing me to run faster, harder. When I was younger, I only ran because my coaches made me, but after Liz died, I needed a physical way to let out my frustrations and grief. Lifting weights helped but running is really what changed me.

  I remember feeling so fucking stifled, like I couldn’t move or breathe without someone checking in on me. My skin itched with a need I couldn’t identify, my body buzzed with extra energy I didn’t know how to handle. I just wanted to leave, run away. So I did. I took off running down my street and I kept going until my lungs burned and the itch was gone. I felt...free. Freer than I had in years and I didn’t care about the tears that had mixed with the sweat dripping down my face. I’d finally found my outlet.

  With it being mid-morning on a Saturday, there are a few more people out than when I run on a weekday. Everything in this area is decorated for Christmas now, with special holiday activities planned for the weekend, so it’s not unusual to see young families bundled up and headed to the park or zoo. I try my best to ignore the tightness in my chest as I pass up the strollers and the dads wearing those baby backpack-things. It does me no good to wish for things I can’t have.

  It’s when I start to slow my pace that I see her again.

  At least, I think it’s her.

  Just like before, she’s waiting for a streetcar but her hair is different now. It’s still platinum on the top but the waves falling down her back are a mixture of different shades of purple. Still jogging, I’m able to get close enough to see her smile at a kid standing next to her and that’s when I know it’s her. I’d recognize that smile anywhere.

  It’s unmistakable.

  She’s unmistakable.

  And definitely not a mistake. Far from it. She’s more like a miracle and I need her to know that.

  Before I’m able to call out to her, a streetcar stops and she steps inside. But this time, I refuse to stand frozen like I did in front of Charity House, so I run. In fact, I haul ass, catching up to the door as it shuts. Banging on the glass, I get the driver’s attention and he re
luctantly opens it for me.

  “Thanks,” I say breathlessly, paying my fare with the app on my phone, then turning to look for Avery. I know she’s here, I can sense it...feel her.

  On a nearly empty row near the back, she’s facing the window, not paying attention to what’s going on around her. When I take the seat in front of her, she’s completely caught off guard, her eyes going wide when she notices me.

  “Avery.”

  God, just being able to see her and say her name out loud calms me more than any run ever could. My chest feels lighter just knowing she’s here, but then my nerves kick in.

  It’s really her.

  “Your hair is purple.”

  Seriously? I finally get to talk to her and this is the shit I blurt out?

  “Um, yeah, I just had it done yesterday.” She twirls one of her curls around her finger and watches it rather than looking at me. I ignore the sting I feel at the way she seems to be unaffected by me or my presence and focus on accomplishing my mission to get her to let me explain myself, hoping she’ll hear me out.

  “I like it. It suits you.” I clear my throat, trying to collect myself.

  Avery looks up and pierces me with her dark eyes. “What are you doing here, Shaw?”

  “I, uh, was out for a run and saw you waiting for the streetcar, so I thought I’d get on and talk to you.” I wipe the sweat off my brow, pushing my hair back and out of my face. I want her to see me, all of me, and how serious I am when I say what I need to say.

  She watches my movements then allows her gaze to travel over me before narrowing her eyes. “So, you thought you could just corner me on a streetcar and make me listen to you?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest, her defenses immediately going up.

  The tightness in my chest is back when I recognize my own coping mechanisms being thrown back in my face. It hurts, but I should’ve expected it. She said she was going to be looking out for herself, so I don’t know why it surprises me. Honestly, she should. She deserves better than I’ve given her, but that doesn’t change the fact I want the chance to tell her how I feel and try to make up for my mistakes.

  “I’ve tried to reach out to you so many times these past two weeks,” I begin, searching for the right thing to say and wishing I’d thought this through a little better. “You won’t answer my texts or calls and God knows CeCe won’t tell me shit. I have no idea where you’re working now. How else can I get you to listen? I wasn’t expecting to see you today and I sure as hell didn’t plan on chasing down a streetcar, but when I saw you, I had no choice.”

  I watch her chew on her bottom lip and I want so desperately to rub my thumb against it and free it from its confines, but I don’t. Instead, I wait. I wait to see if she’s gonna give me a chance or tell me to fuck off.

  When she doesn’t respond, I try another tactic. “Avery, please give me a chance to explain. There’s so much I need to tell you. Give me an hour,” I plead. I want more. I want to take all of her time, but I’ll settle for whatever she’ll give me.

  “I’m working today...I’m...on my way to work,” she mutters, her words drifting a little and it’s then I notice the way she swallows hard, her eyes still taking me in and a small ember of hope begins to burn.

  Maybe she is affected by me?

  I see it now in the small nuances—things I might have missed if I didn’t know her so well. But I do. I’ve watched her so much that I’ve picked up on small things, like the way her teeth latch onto her bottom lip when she’s confused or deep in thought...and the way she licks her lips when she’s thinking about kissing me.

  Fuck, I’ve missed her—the way she looks at me, the sound of her voice...everything.

  “Where are you working?” I ask, needing to know every detail about her after feeling so detached and like she was slipping away. Just yesterday, I had the scary thought that she might’ve moved home. Then what? How would I have found her then? Something inside me tells me I would’ve...somehow, someway.

  She studies me for a second before averting her gaze out the window, obviously trying to decide if she’s going to tell me or not. Then she finally says, “The Crescent Moon.” Her words are soft and my heart drops and then comes back up into my chest.

  The fucking Crescent Moon?

  “Why haven’t I seen you?”

  “I work Tuesday through Saturday.”

  Of course she does. Of course she wouldn’t want to work on days she might see me.

  That tightness in my chest now feels like a sharp pain.

  She’s been riding past my street on this fucking streetcar every damn day for the last two weeks and I had no clue.

  But I’m also relieved, because I know Wyatt will take care of her. If I can’t be there to look out for her and protect her, I’m glad he is.

  “Let me cook for you tomorrow night...at my house. You deserve to know the truth about me―all of it and I want you to know it. After that, you can decide what our next step will be. Whatever that is, even if you never want to see me again, I’ll honor your wish.”

  Sighing, she tortures me for a few more seconds, conflicting emotions waging war on her face before she finally whispers, “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I repeat, releasing a constrained breath as relief floods through me.

  “I found an apartment,” she says, her brows pinching together as if she wasn’t planning on telling me that, but she did.

  “That’s great,” I encourage, hoping it’s not in one of the shady neighborhoods she’d been looking in a couple months ago. I want to ask where, but I wait for her to share that information.

  “A friend of Wyatt’s,” she offers, biting down on her lip again. “It’s only a few blocks from your house.” When she admits that and turns back to the window, I smile.

  She’s been thinking about me.

  When the streetcar stops, she grabs her backpack and I stand, reaching out my hand to her. I know there’s a chance she’ll brush me off, but I’m willing to take the risk.

  I just need to touch her, if only for a brief moment.

  After a second's hesitation, with her staring at my outstretched hand, I’m rewarded with the feel of her soft skin when her palm touches mine.

  Helping her out of her seat, I use the leverage and pull her closer to me. “Tomorrow?” I ask, breathing in her sweet scent. I just need to hear her say one way or the other. My heart needs to know.

  She stares into my eyes without wavering, and I see a storm behind those deep, brown eyes. Finally, she sighs as her shoulders relax—her hand giving mine the most minute squeeze—and I allow myself to hope.

  “What time?”

  Chapter 27

  Avery

  “Excited to be leaving me?” CeCe asks, kicking one of my duffle bags I have stashed behind the counter. When we got up at o’dark-thirty this morning to come down and open up the coffee shop, I went ahead and packed up my belongings. I’m moving into my apartment today...my first very own apartment. I’ve never lived alone. I went from living at home to living with Brant. Outside of the rooms I rented before moving in with CeCe, I’ve never had a place that’s just mine.

  “Uh, excited for a real bed and a place of my own,” I clarify. “But I’ll miss you.”

  Sighing she walks over and wraps me in a hug. “It’ll be okay. You’ll come slave away for me and we’ll find time to hang out...you know, late at night, during vampire hours.” She laughs and I hold onto her for a little while longer.

  “Thank you for taking in a stray cat,” I whisper.

  “Any time.”

  We step away when the bell rings, signaling a new customer. “What about tonight?” she asks casually, Smiling at the lady who’s approaching the counter.

  “What about it?” I ask, also putting a smile on my face for the customer.

  “What can I get for you?” CeCe asks.

  “Uh, a slice of lemon pound cake and a black coffee,” the lady says. CeCe grabs the coffee while I get the cake. After we’ve t
aken her money and given change, she’s right back at my side. “The dinner...are you nervous?”

  “You could say that,” I tell her, swallowing down the nervous jitters I get every time I think about showing up at Shaw’s house...and being alone with him...and what he’s going to say. I have my guesses, but the fact he’s willing to open up to me makes my heart do funny things. “Honestly, I don’t know how to feel,” I admit.

  “It’s going to be fine,” she says in a soothing tone. “Whatever he has to say, at least you’ll know the truth and you can move on...one way or another.”

  “Sometimes, it feels like the last supper,” I tell her, ignoring the hint of dread creeping into my stomach. Actually, I haven’t felt very well since I woke up this morning. Too much tossing and turning, worrying.

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” she reprimands, swatting at me with a towel. “Promise to call me tomorrow.”

  “I will.”

  After working a few more hours, I call a cab. There’s no way I’m walking all the way to the streetcar with three bags. CeCe walks me to the corner and waves goodbye as the car drives away, like I’m leaving for the army instead of moving a few miles away.

  Pulling up in front of the Walker’s driveway, I pay the driver and hop out.

  “Let me help you with that,” a male voice says coming from behind me, causing me to turn around. A tall guy with dark hair is smiling at me with deep dimples and I immediately know it’s Eliza’s husband. Emmie looks just like him.

  “Ben,” I greet with a smile, brushing my hair out of my face as I pull one of my duffle bags from the trunk.

  “Yep, that’s me,” he says, taking the bag from my hand and grabbing the other one, shouldering them both, while I get my backpack.

  “I’m Avery,” I tell him, waving at the cab driver as he drives off.

  “Welcome to the neighborhood.” His tone is easy going and playful and just as welcoming as his wife’s. “The apartment might not be much, but I think you’re really going to enjoy the amenities.”