by Amarie Avant
At Antonio’s snide laughter, Avery’s gaze went to him.
“Stop it. Antonio, this is not funny,” she said. “I can’t take it when you argue. It . . .” She shook with anger. She started for the bedroom with Salvador on her heels.
Her hands over her head, she exclaimed, “Salvador, I love you but—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He gritted out, although with her back turned away from him; she hadn’t heard.
“Watch the language too,” Antonio called out with an arched eyebrow as Salvador moved from the hallway into the guest room. The area was decorated with an antique wrought iron bed, and an old, rotary dial phone, where the receiver laid in the cradle.
Avery stood at the window, staring out into the evening. A couple of old ladies dressed in sweats carrying the tiniest weights ever invented and waving them around in their hands moved slowly and gossiped even faster.
Salvador’s jaw clenched. That little shit brother of hers had tried to help her with a cop-out. There is no way out of this relationship. Salvador stared hard at Avery’s back. She’d reach ecstasy the easy way, or she’d, unfortunately, learn the hard way. He crossed the room to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, and gently turned her to face him. Delicately, Salvador’s hand went to her cheek.
“Just talk to me. Forget about everyone else, Avery. It’s just me and you.”
Tears glittered in her eyes. He felt like gliding his hand from her cheek to her beautiful neck—and squeezing the area that he usually kissed and sucked on.
“It’s Hardy?” He managed the word. “What did he do to you?”
“No. It’s not about Donnie.”
He saw blood red at her choice of words. Like a snake striking in reverse, Salvador’s hand moved away from her cheek. Avery turned back to look out the window.
That name. The way she said it. Donnie and . . . AC. He knew where this was going. Salvador recalled the last time a woman betrayed him.
Avery Castle didn’t know it, but she’d revived him just as he’d revived her from a broken heart.
But that other bitch was at the bottom of the ocean. He’d hated himself for months after getting rid of Sondra. She’d been more than a body. Maybe if he’d have given Sondra more time to think about the ramifications of separating from him, they’d be married now with children. Carmen could’ve been an abuelita.
If Avery had come alone and his mom were sleep, or they’d waited to have this conversation at his home, Avery would probably be dead by now for making such a foolish decision.
“Salvador, I really do love you.” Avery turned around to address him. “It’s honestly not about Donnie—not completely. It’s about me. About being a mom. About him. About so much more than you and I. Just give me time, please.” Avery’s begging soothed the beast within his soul. It doused the murder red that had taken over his eyes.
“When I get home, we’ll talk?” He asked.
Her beautiful brown eyes slid to the left. She was lying. Subconsciously or not, Salvador didn’t know.
Avery pressed on her tippy toes to offer him a passionate kiss, but Salvador didn’t pucker his lips. She sighed and said, “Of course, we will talk. I owe you that much, Sal. Sometime after you get home. Okay, baby?”
He pressed himself against her again. This time she turned her head. “Antonio, you need to apologize.”
Salvador rotated, following Avery’s gaze. Her younger brother stood in the door. Had the little bastard been watching them the entire time? With the dead tormenting him, Salvador hadn’t noticed Antonio’s arrival.
“Sis, you want me to apologize?” Antonio sniggered.
“No, it’s okay.” Salvador words didn’t match the look on his face.
Avery placed a hand on her hip. “No. Don’t be smart. Apologize.”
He saluted her and walked out.
Avery cast her gaze to the ground. Her fingers found Salvador’s and gave his hand an endearing squeeze. With her head still lowered, she said, “I really, really, really love you, Salvador. I have to work on me.”
It felt like a bullet ripping through his Teflon vest. Salvador attempted to caress her cheek. She wouldn’t allow it. They both knew what would happen. Salvador would lift her chin and bring her vision to his mouth to save the love they’d cultivated. When Avery tried to pull away, he held her hand tighter, almost tight enough to crush her bones, but stopped himself. She slipped from his embrace.
And just as quickly as Avery came, she was gone.
CHAPTER 19
Avery
To keep them from having to drive back home on the same evening, Avery and her brother had checked into a two-bedroom suite at a resort hotel in Jacksonville. They’d dipped into their father’s business member points since he often stayed at the same chain of hotels across the nation or internationally. Avery had showered and dressed in the overpriced pajamas that were on sale in the hotel gift shop.
The suite was painted in all indigoes and blues. Canvas paintings of oceans adorned the walls throughout. The recessed lighting was bright, and there wasn’t a speck of dirt anywhere in the luxury room.
Avery came out of her bedroom to see the back of her brother’s head bobbing. She walked over to the couch and pulled somewhat at the left side of his Beats. “I thought I told you to shower? I’m calling room service.”
Still listening to the music, Antonio signed, “I’m a man, no need showering every day, AC.”
She chuckled, then took the liberty of removing his headphones all together. Before he could argue with her like he often did when his mother snatched his Beats off, Avery placed the earphones to her ears. Eyes closed, her teeth sunk down onto her bottom lip. Her eardrums felt the vibrations. It had been awhile since she had listened to something other than salsa music, Cuban, or straight up old school, but she counted the pulsations in her ears. She started rapping, “Two shots in the dark, now Huey’s dead.”
“Damn, it still amazes me when you do that. I was gonna put on Hail Mary, your favorite, but this one seemed more appropriate.”
Avery chuckled. “Oh, sheesh. I owe this gift to Donnie. I probably wouldn’t even know that the sound of a blue jay is beautiful if it weren’t for Donavan or that seashells sounded like a whisper across your skin.”
Antonio made a cut gesture while sliding his hand before his throat. “No poetic shit. I don’t need the visual.”
“Oh, boy, stop. What I was going to say, is after Donnie made me give a damn about sound in general, LaChelle taught me how to understand tunes.”
“But you were a child protégé, crawling to a piano when LaChelle met you. How did Donnie—”
“Mom wanted me to play the piano,” she shrugged. “I wasn’t a baby. I must’ve been at least three. And so, I did it; I played the right keys, whatever. Then Donnie . . . I had a reason to give a damn. Anyway, what were you referring to that “Changes” is a more appropriate song for the moment? You plan on working on that anger of yours?”
“Ha, nah, I’m a Castle. I don’t have to work on my anger.”
She scoffed. “Really? You’re just like Dad!”
His eyelid twitched, and now, it was her turn to laugh. Earlier, Avery had started to think having her kid brother tag along to catch up on some bonding time had been a bad idea. Especially, when Antonio went postal on Salvador for no reason. Sal hadn’t held her too harshly, but he’d never actually held her wrist that tightly before. Salvador had never done anything to make her think he was abusive, not really. Sometimes things got a little rough, but that’s how sex worked for them when tensions were high.
Then the thought dawned on her . . . how well did she really know Salvador? They had two years under their belt, but for the majority of it, they spent in a long-distance relationship. Hell, they were still in the honeymoon phase, now that Avery had moved to South Carolina. As her mind became inundated with Salvador, she tried not to over analyze his actions today. In any case, she now felt like it was a good idea after all to bring
Antonio. She sat down on the couch across from him.
“I’m not like Dad.” Aware that he sounded defensive, Antonio lightened his tone and demeanor. “But he’s not all bad when he has time. But back to these Changes. Donavan came by the other day to chat with Mom, and I gave him the look,” he said, his face twisting in anger. “I always assumed you went backpacking across Europe with Donavan, and maybe some cute French girl stole him from you, and then you were too heartbroken, some bullshit like that. Or maybe you just forgot about coming home,” he shrugged, pretending that it didn’t matter much, “to check on your bro.”
She shook her head. “No. Never. I’m sorry.”
His response was somewhere between a smirk and another quick jolt of his shoulders. “But what you said in the car this afternoon, man, it makes me wish I wasn’t so hard on you when you moved back from New York. You went through hell. You and Donavan.”
Avery sighed. When she had told her brother the entire story, Antonio was sitting in the passenger seat as she drove. With her senses focused on keeping safe on the road, she didn’t have time for him to respond. It felt like more weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
Avery sure as hell agreed with Antonio on one thing. She believed that she and Donavan were dealt bad cards no matter how much Avery prayed that he’d come back while she was pregnant. Unsure of what to make of the best love she’d ever had, Avery replied, “Well, I haven’t been gone too long, and we have time to make up for that.”
“What about Donavan?” Antonio hadn’t caught the vibes of her wanting to keep the discussion of Donavan off the table. Not because Antonio didn’t need to know, but because, hell, she didn’t know. He sank back in the chair in a wide-legged stance and started to sign: “If I were the big brother and you were the kid sister, I’d have been too busy running after ass to let you tag along. He was always a cool dude. You know, before I thought the two of you hit the road.” He huffed. “I would’ve made a good uncle. I still will, when you two are ready—"
His hands were still rapidly moving when Avery stood up, abruptly. “Hey, let’s not be too optimistic.” She plucked the menu off the coffee table. Her legs felt restless. She’d called Donavan before hitting the shower just to see how things went at court. Just her father’s name tossed around rendered the case against Donavan irrelevant, but he hadn’t answered. Her father had already texted her that things had gone as she requested.
But why didn’t Donavan respond to me?
Antonio snatched the menu from her face, which forced her to provide him her undivided attention. She sulked. “He’s changed; I’ve changed.”
“You, changed? Nah, you haven’t changed, you’ve just been on autopilot. If you were really getting old like Mom, you would’ve made that face she does when she’s disgusted about rap and told me to turn the shit off just like you did last week.”
Her lips bunched, and she signed: “I did not make that face!”
“You were literally turning into Mom.”
They laughed together. While Avery sat on the couch with her brother’s cell phone on Kendrick Lamar, her thumb over the speaker and reading the words from the lyrical version of his latest music video, Antonio used the hotel phone in the living room to call to order dinner for them. She was a simple girl. He already knew that a cheeseburger would suffice for her.
She was halfway through the song when she reached over and bumped her shoulder against his. He had been making a rather long request. “Hey, don’t order the entire menu.”
“Just the good stuff.” He winked.
~~~
Around two a.m., Avery, sprawled out on the ultra-comfortable bed and her face underneath the pillow began to feel her nose itch in her sleep. Her cell phone was vibrating. She swatted at it, and a bright light from her iPhone glowed in her face. Groaning, she picked up the phone just as it vibrated again with another text message. She rarely went to sleep with her phone next to her, but Avery had used the Kindle app to read a psychological thriller, conveniently about a woman whose stalker kept coming to her as she slept. It was either that or romance, and with how things transpired with her and Salvador, romance was the last thing on her mind.
The phone buzzed again. Avery toggled the apps and started to read the progression of messages.
DONAVAN: AC, you mean the fucking world to me. Words can’t even explain.
DONAVAN: Okay. You have a dude. Make sure he treats you good.
DONAVAN: This is incrementing as fuck. I don’t care, tho. If he ever hurts you, I’m gonna take my gun and ram it down his
DONAVAN: Throat. I’ve always been a no amount to nothing piece of shit. LMAO. 24 years old. I finally have a reason to be jealous.
Avery started to laugh at the crazy rambling of drunk texts he’d sent. She hadn’t even responded, but as if he had read her mind, Donavan sent another text message: “I’m drunk btw. Are you home??”
Biting her bottom lip, Avery pouted. She almost wished they had gone home, but she’d a good time with her brother. She sent a text: “No. Not home.”
DONAVAN: Okay. I get it. No more bothering you, AC.
She started to type, “Donnie, I’m at a hotel,” to explain that she wasn’t with Salvador when another message came through, stopping her.
DONAVAN: Have a good life.
As fast as she could, Avery typed: “Donnie. Don’t go. I love u 2.”
Moments passed, and with each one, her heart rate increased.
AVERY: I’m with Antonio in Florida. We’ll be home tomorrow. Talk then?
After another minute, she sent a double question mark that received no response. Taking a deep breath, Avery told herself not to read anything into his lack of reply.
CHAPTER 20
Donavan
He closed his eyes tight and pretended to believe that he wasn’t angry, that he hadn’t shed a tear. He was so damn drunk that even with his eyes closed the room seemed to tilt and swim around him. It was true, though, he was crying. A grown man crying, and for the second time since Avery had come bulldozing back into his life. Before this moment, he only recalled shedding a tear when his adoptive mom died, and that was because his father, Greg, had lost it at the repast. Big and tall as he was, Greg had broken down in the middle of the song, “There You’ll Be,” from his mom’s favorite artist Faith Hill.
And before that?
Never because he wasn’t aware that men cried. As a child, being slapped around by one foster parent and then the next or being talked about, Donavan couldn’t give a damn. Just after he texted her to have a nice life, Donavan powered off the cell phone and tossed it over his shoulder. “You’re not a kid anymore, Donavan.” He scoffed. “Drunk texts.”
His large hands rested against the cheap, cigarette-smoke stained countertop in his bathroom, and he gave a little chuckle. “I was always in over my head with her. Avery Castle deserves much better.”
He punched the mirror. The glass went shattering down, into the sink, across the counter, and a few pieces even skipped into the toilet.
A soft, sultry voice called out to him.
Donavan’s head fell back, and he growled at himself. Why had he brought a woman home tonight? He shouted. “Uh, just a second.”
He glanced down at his knuckles, which had already been marred by so many bar brawls and fights. He rinsed the little bits of glass and trickles of blood off.
After another five minutes, he came out of the bathroom into the hallway of his tiny home. A quick sweep over the living room showed that it was empty. Though his muscles were tensed with the thought of another man loving the only thing God had given him, he felt a momentary reprieve from not having to recall the name of the broad he’d brought home from the bar.
Maybe she’d taken off after waiting so long?
They’d had one too many victory shots of whiskey since he wasn’t sitting in jail, and he couldn’t recall if the girl had told him her name. His hand gripped the doorframe as he quickly flipped on the kitchen light a
nd looked inside.
The broad with the long hair, and monstrously big tits was gone. Earlier, he’d planned on burrowing his face in those fuckers and suffocating all his misery away. Now, she was gone. Good. He started to get out of his stuffy suit. The jacket hit the floor just as he was midway to his room. Next, he tussled with the tie, yanked that off with a major frown on his face.
The woman was laying in his bed, and those tits were nowhere near as humongous as they were before. The strap of her wonder bra was hooked on her index finger as she lay there. The tiny red triangle of her thong disappeared between her hips.
Though he had no name to call her, and clearly, she’d been playing him much of the time, Donavan couldn’t stop from keeping the nickname Boobies.
She was laying right in the spot Avery had lain this morning.
Boobies brown eyes narrowed. “Were you just on the phone?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, unbuttoning the shirt. He expected an onslaught of complaints. Instead, Boobies got an eyeful of the thick, long broadness of his shoulders before allowing her gaze to drink in his abdominals.
“Your girl?” With an arched eyebrow and a flick of her wrist, she allowed her bra to somersault across the room to the floor.
“No.”
“Okay, so, come get in bed.” Her legs widened.
Fuck her. He mentally commanded himself to screw the woman, but his cock wasn’t rising to the occasion. The woman was beautiful, mediocre sized tits or not. She had flawless, creamy skin and perfectly graspable hips. But Donavan Hardy’s hands were craving the familiar touch of love. One he’d never in a million years forget.
He knew exactly where to touch Avery Castle’s body to get her going.
He’d had her first. She’d had him first.
They’d learned things together.
His head cocked to the side. “Sweetheart, I’m not in the mood to fuck you tonight.”
“Is that so?” Boobies chewed on her bottom lip. She climbed out of the bed, hips swaying as she headed closer to him.