by Mj Fields
AVA
Relief washes over me. He’s away from the place of death. The relief is interrupted by Hope’s mouth on my chin and my phone ringing.
I walk over to see Dad’s face on the screen and hit the accept request for Facetime.
“Hi, Dad,” I mumble as Hope continues using my jaw as her own personal pacifier.
“Wow, you should feed her, Ava.” He smiles, but it’s not the same smile it used to be. It’s put on.
I attempt a smile as Hope grips my hair harder. “Teething.”
“You do know there’s all sorts of items in one of the lower cabinets for that, right?”
I nod. “She prefers the chin.”
“You look good, Ava.”
“You, too,” I say, because he does. He always does. Also, what else can we talk about?
“I’m thinking about coming in tomorrow.”
“No,” I snap, which makes Hope startle. “Oh, sweetie, it’s okay,” I coo to her.
“She wants to see me,” Dad says, trying to make it a joke.
“She will...soon. You said I looked good, Daddy. I’m doing good. We’re doing good. Please let me do what I need to do.”
His lips form a line. “You didn’t make any football games.” He’s using the brother card.
“I’m sure Logan understands.”
Dad runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “You’re both driving me nuts right now.”
“I’m sure we’ll get it back.” I kiss Chance’s head. “Two fold.”
“You’ll be home for Christmas.” It’s a demand, not a question.
“I don’t know, Dad. I’d like them to spend their first Christmas here.” And the next twenty.
“No,” Dad rejects that comment.
“No?”
“Ava, I draw the line at Christmas.”
I give him back the same stern look he is giving me. “I’m an adult.”
“No. Just...no.”
Hope takes this time to start getting upset. Perfect timing.
“She’s teething,” I mention again since he didn’t seem to get what I was saying before.
As I hoped, realization dawns. “She’s getting a tooth? Ava, how could you not tell me that? That’s important stuff.”
“It’s a tooth, Dad. Plus, it may take a month or more to come in. It’s just bothering her.” I laugh. “She’s going to get lots more. So is Chance.”
“Ava, those are newsworthy events. I mean, seriously, all the other grand—people I know share that shit on social media.”
“Well, I haven’t felt all that social.”
He sighs in frustration. “Ava, you either come home for Christmas, or I’m going to be there every day until then.”
“Lucas,” Tessa scolds in the background.
I can’t help almost smirking when she comes to my rescue.
“Dammit, Ava,” he snaps.
“That’s enough, Lucas Links,” Tessa says, and his face distorts.
“She’s enjoying this.” He points at the screen.
At this point, I have to hide my face.
“She’s laughing at my pain, baby. Laughing!”
She turns the screen so I can see her face. “You need him, he’s there.” Then she mouths, “Please.”
“Next weekend, okay? Next weekend, you can come.”
“How come that Casey chick gets to be with them?” Dad asks in a childish manner.
“She’s not here. She won’t be back for another five days,” I inform him.
“Then you’re alone?” they both say at the same time.
“No, I’m never alone.” I nod at my babies.
“Ava...” Tessa sighs.
“I need this time with them. I need them.”
“And, Ash? Is she stopping by?” Dad asks.
Shit, shit, shit.
“When I need her.”
Dad rolls his eyes. “So, that’s a no.”
“Look at me, Daddy. I’m getting stronger. I haven’t even hung up on you yet.”
Tessa laughs. “She has a point.”
“Fine. Next weekend, I’ll be there.”
I smile. “Bring Logan.”
“He’ll be done with school next week—only one more semester—so that’s a good idea.”
“I need to feed these two. Love you, Dad. Love you, Tessa.”
“Daddy,” he corrects.
I smile nice and big for him. “I love you, Daddy.”
He smiles, a genuine one now. “Love you, princess.”
***
When the babies are down for their morning naps, I sit on the couch, uploading the pictures of my children into the file I store them in, separated by month. I don’t post them, not wanting to share them.
I don’t want to share them.
Thomas, what have we done?
I sign-in online and look at Harper’s Facebook page. There are hundreds of pictures of her children, Piper and Reed. I am ashamed that I feel like I have to hide mine. They are perfect, angels, blessings, and I hate that I feel ashamed.
“Ava?”
I look up to see Luke with a cane gripped in his hand, coming toward me.
“Did you fall again?” I ask, and then I am ashamed that I am making him hide what I know must be the light in the darkness he has been living in.
“No, just sore.” He sits next to me and asks, “What’s wrong?”
“How awful am I? I hide them like I’m ashamed because I made a mistake.” I push the laptop aside and fist my hair. “God, what a fucking mess.”
“Not the end of the world.”
“Why does it feel like it?”
“Pride.”
“Pride? I have no pride,” I groan.
He chuckles. “You do, Ava. You’re just not feeling like you do.”
“It’s not funny.”
“We can laugh, or we can cry. I think you’ve cried enough.”
I let his words settle in. I want to believe him, but I don’t.
“How many fallen tears are enough before I prove the love that I lost is real?”
“Real?” He runs his hand over his head. “Pain isn’t real.”
“Pft, it certainly is.”
“It’s allowed.”
“Luke Lane, tell me your knee doesn’t hurt.”
“Does when I allow it.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head.
“Wanna know the trick?” he asks.
“Sure,” I huff.
“Let it wreck you, decide how long you’re gonna allow it, then make it go away.”
“What?” I half-laugh.
“Five, four, three, two, one, and then it’s gone. You let it control you, then that’s all you’re gonna feel. You tell it to fuck off, you’ll feel better.”
“Yeah, well, how did that work out for you?”
“Sucked, but then I found a reason to tell it to fuck off.”
I nod. “Chance.”
He shakes his head. “You.”
No, no, no, no. I can’t do this with him.
“Luke, I can’t.”
“He’s dead, Ava. Told you I’d switch places with him, but I can’t.”
“That doesn’t mean I can just...” I pause, uncomfortable with this conversation. He and I will never be together. I know this. He just wants to get laid.
“Wasn’t saying I changed because I want to fuck you, Ava. I said I turned it off because of you. You need me strong, and contrary to what this cane says”—he smirks—“I’m strong.”
“So, you aren’t trying to...” I stop again, feeling awkward.
He looks down and smirks. “Remember the day you announced your engagement?”
“You already told me. I was his toy. It pissed me off then, so how about we drop it now?”
“Didn’t tell you, but when I tore his ass apart outside, he told me that you said you’d never had it so good.” He pauses. “I’m not trying to fuck you, Ava. I want the little girl I disappointed, the one who knew I was suppo
sed to take care of her, to realize she was fucking right.”
I close my eyes and shake my head, thinking, Oh, T, why did you have to say that? And Luke, stop, just stop.
“Not telling you to hate the man, Ava. It would be a waste of breath. I see how you loved him. But he was human and flawed. And apparently, better in bed than I was.”
I turn away from him. “Luke?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t bring that up again.”
“What, that he’s better than me in bed?” His tone is of a teasing nature, but I know it has to hurt.
“It’s just that—”
“I know, Ava. He was perfect.”
I shake my head. “He was human, and he loved me. I never said he was perfect.”
Learning more and more every day that he wasn’t.
“He loved me, and there is no comparing him and you. As you said, you cared about a little girl, and he was in love with the grown up me. I can be upset and angry, or accepting. Love doesn’t come with strings. You love someone, you love them for all they are, faults and all.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It’s not you; it’s me. - A. Stockford
LUKE
It’s hard as hell to watch her battle her demons. She’s stubborn as a mule, and until she makes the decision, she’s going to be about as easy to move as a mountain.
“Can I see the pictures of Reed?” I ask.
“You met him, right?” Ava asks, handing me the computer.
I nod. “Held him.” I look at the screen. “Cute baby, but Chance and Hope...”
“Don’t even,” she warns with a light laugh.
“Can’t help it. It’s true.”
“You may think differently when you see this,” she says as she hits a few keys. “There’s Chance two days after he was born.”
She shows me a picture of a tiny, little body that is hooked up to so many machines with wires coming in and out of every part of him. He’s a shade of yellow and covered in a fine, almost fur-like covering. He looks helpless. So fucking helpless. He is so fucking tiny. So...helpless.
My chest tightens, and my hands feel like they begin to tremble. I clench them to stop it from happening. Then I swallow back the lump forming in my throat as I force myself to look away.
Ava is looking at me, eyes misting, but a smile, albeit sad, is there.
“Still beautiful,” I tell her. I’m not talking about my son. I am talking about the woman who has become a mother. The mother of my child. The mother who fought for him, for his sister, for life, even after she lost the man she...loved.
“He was to me, too,” she says, looking back at the screen. “This is a couple of days later. Less blue, less yellow, and less weak.”
She hits a button and a slide show begins. Pictures, hundreds of them, slowly move in front of my eyes. My son, sweet little Hope, and Ava. Christ, what they went through was far worse than I could possibly imagine.
I see Hope in pictures here at home, and then Chance with the same timestamps, still in the hospital.
“He had to stay,” I acknowledge.
“He sure did,” she says then clears her throat. “He went through so much, Luke, but he fought.”
I point at the screen where Lucas is holding him, face full of stubble, and his eyes look like every one of my brothers, my team, when we hadn’t slept in a week. “Looks like he had a lot of people on his side.”
Tessa, Logan, Ashley, Lucas, Brody, Emma, Maddox, Harper, London, Lexington, even Liam were all there with her, fighting for him. They spent months with him.
For a moment, I am jealous, angry they were given an opportunity I wasn’t.
Needing a break, I stand up then walk with my cane to the only place that is an escape for her—the balcony.
I look at the skyline across the river, taking in a landscape I have never been fond of. I still don’t like it much. It’s not as safe here as home, yet she stays. Then I look down and see the spot where T was killed, the man who was my enemy and who is now forever bound to Ava, my son, and me. I know why she stays. For him. For the kids. It’s a choice to her, and she is choosing to keep away from the family, to hide a dead man’s lies.
Anger is no longer simmering. It’s boiling.
This balcony is not a far enough escape from her. She is a damn smart woman, but her emotions are overrunning logic, and not just a little bit. I want to shake her, tell her she’s wrong, tell her that my son needs a father, that both kids need a family, and not to be locked up in a Brooklyn apartment that has become a fortress for fraudulence. I want to tell her how much I resent Thomas for putting her in this position, that it’s undeniably wrong, yet she denies it to herself.
Did I lie to her? Sure did. But I was also lying to myself. I was wrong to fuck Ava, the girl I protected and served as she grew up. That night, though...God, I needed her. And when she said no strings, I believed her. Or did I?
Fuck!
No strings?
How stupid was I? With her, the fucking strings were always there. I always knew deep down I would never be able to cut them, not even if I tried. And when I did cut them, I cut myself. Then I sent her directly into the arms of a man who lied to her, deceived her, all in the name of love. Just like I did, but in a much different way.
Well, fuck. Is a lie really a lie? I mean, does one lie hold more weight than another? Did I wreck her only to have him ruin her?
I hear Chance cry and look at the glass door.
I think to myself, Does it really even matter? as I look at my boy in his mother’s arms.
Something amazing came from the wreckage and ruins. Something bigger than love and lies.
Life.
I just have to show her that there is life everywhere she looks, and not death.
She is trying. I see it. I feel it. I know it. But she is resistant, too.
How will I get her to see what I see? To see that all those people she is avoiding love her? Hell, they love me, too, and I just allowed that to sink in.
As the world is round, I do love those people even more now after seeing them with my boy.
My boy.
My son.
My son with Ava.
Can they be all consuming? Hell yes. So can she. So can they. So can pain if you allow it.
I won’t allow it.
I turn and look over the balcony, and then down to where T died.
“I wish you were alive so I could kick your ass,” I say out loud, praying that God will pass along the message.
***
Ava made dinner. Well, she made breakfast for dinner. Sausage gravy on biscuits. I ate and played with Chance while she gave Hope a bath. No words were spoken about my need to walk away. There was no need for words.
What happens when you mix words with confused emotions? Ninety-nine percent of the time, nothing good.
When she comes out with Hope in her little pink, footed pajamas, I look up at her.
“Your turn, little guy,” she says, and Chance beams at her. He fucking beams.
“Switch with me?” I ask, pushing myself up to stand.
She tilts her head, looking confused.
“What?”
“You sure?” she asks.
“Wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.” I hold my hands out and take Hope. Then Ava bends down and grabs Chance before taking him to his bath.
Hope is smiling at me, and I am smiling back as she sits on my lap. She has T’s coloring and Ava’s eyes—expressive, showy, innocent.
“Hi.”
She smiles bigger as she tries to pull herself up, gripping my shirt as she looks up at me like she needs to say something.
“Go ahead. It’s just me and you; your secret is safe.” I want to know what she is thinking. She’s a baby; is she really thinking anything?
Her tiny, little pale eyebrows furrow like she’s thinking.
“I promise.”
Two words meaning so much bigger than their length.
Those two
words, I do not toss around. They are my word.
Looking at her, little Ava, I make her a promise, and I damn well will keep it.
“I promise,” I whisper again, bending down to kiss her head.
I bring her closer to my face, and she grabs on, all claws. Then she attacks my chin, and I can’t help laughing.
Her deep thought wasn’t so damn deep, after all. She just wanted something to chew on. Along with those two words, I let her have that, too.
“You already got me wrapped. Teach me your ways.” I laugh as she gnaws harder.
I sit there for what seems like an hour as she chews on my chin. Then Ava walks out with Chance in little footies, just like his sister’s, and giggles.
Hope looks toward her voice, giving my face a break.
“She’s something,” I joke.
Ava looks at me like she is shocked, or confused, or hell, I don’t know, but I know the look. She needs more information, so I give it to her.
“She’s like you,” I explain as I look down at Hope, lifting my pinky finger. “She’s got me wrapped.”
At that, Ava loudly laughs. “Pft. Yeah, just like me.”
“You had me wrapped from the moment you told me I should pick you to be on my team every damn time.” I laugh.
I see her stiffen, signs of retreat in her eyes. Maybe even anger and regret.
“We were friends, Ava. Let’s go back to that time.”
She shakes her head. “I would if I could, but things changed.”
I think of a way to lighten the darkened atmosphere. What would the old Ava do, I think, to light up the darkness?
“Well, we have even teams here. You wanna play a game?”
She looks at me like I grew two heads. Hell, maybe I have. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. All I know is I have to do something.
“Boys against girls?” she asks, still not lightening up.
“No way. I’ve got this one.”
“Luke...”
“No, I insist.”
“They can’t play games; they’re too little.”
“Maybe not today,” I agree, “but I’ll pick her every time.”
Ava and I look at each other for a few seconds, and then she nods, turns, and walks toward the kitchen. She grabs one of her shakes out of the fridge then sits on the closest bar stool with her back to me as she drinks it while holding our son.
Hope is content on my lap, and I have never felt more relaxed in my life. Then I hear my phone.