by Ginger Scott
“I don’t know,” I start, but he holds up a hand.
“You’re staying here. If your father wants to kick my ass over it in the morning, I’ll remind him that it’s probably not a good idea to throw beer bottles at the wall,” he says, and it makes me wince remembering my dad’s outburst.
“Okay…and thank you—for taking care of me. I was careless,” I start, but he puts his fingers on my lips quickly before rolling closer on his side and kissing me gently on the cheek.
“I think I made it pretty clear today, Ave…I’m in this—both feet,” he says, his face serious, the golden lines in his brown eyes lit by the stars outside. I can’t help myself, and I reach up and run my fingers through his hair, looking at it curl softly in my hands. He shuts his eyes when I do.
“I like your haircut,” I say. He smiles, turning his head just enough so his lips catch my arm, and he kisses it.
“Me too,” he says, reaching up and scratching at his hair, before letting his gaze fall open to me again.
“Thanks for talking to my dad—about Adam,” my heart starts to speed up remembering my father’s reaction. My dad trusted Adam, treated him like his own son when we got married. He used to tell me how happy he was I was marrying a good man like Adam Price. I think that’s what gets at my dad the most—the guilt. I don’t blame him. I was just as enamored. Adam was the valedictorian of our high school, and we both went to college together. My dad didn’t even blink when we said we were going to live together—instead, thrilled to see the ring on my finger. It was always his fear—that his little girl wouldn’t have anyone to take care of her. And when we got pregnant early, my dad didn’t even lecture—he just beamed, over-the-moon to be a grandfather. He was Adam’s greatest fan, all the way up until the day Adam walked away. And then…Adam gained the most threatening enemy in the world.
“He wanted to go find him, but I told him he left,” Mason says, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Then I realize what Mason said.
“How do you know he left?” I say, scooting away to look at him completely. I know before he says anything—it’s written on his face, and it comes out with the heavy breath he exhales. I suppose deep down I maybe knew all along, but it still feels like a surprise.
“That’s where I was this morning. I couldn’t let him get away with it. I know, it wasn’t my place, but I’m sorry, Avery. I just…I couldn’t,” he says, his eyes falling to mine, pleading with me to understand. He’s so afraid I’m going to be angry, but instead, Mason may have just completely crawled inside my heart.
“My hand feels better,” I say softly, watching as the line of his mouth inches slowly into a smile.
“Come here,” he says, laying his arm flat for me to lie on, his other above his head, waiting to embrace me. I keep my eyes on his as I move my body closer, careful of my hand, and just careful in general.
His skin is warm against my face. I’m lying right along the tiger’s tail on his tattoo, and I let my face fall so I can look at it closely, tracing the lines with the tips of my fingers. Mason slides his hand up my arm to my wrist, careful not to squeeze against my bandage, and brings my fingers to his lips, kissing them softly.
“I’m so sorry, Avery,” he says, moving his head against mine. “I’m sorry you hurt yourself, and I’m sorry Adam is such a prick. And I’m sooooo sorry if I was ever mean to you. I didn’t know how much you meant to me,” his words literally knock the breath from my body, and I slide myself closer into his arms, pressing my lips to his with all of my might.
“Don’t,” I say, suddenly not wanting to hear him apologize…ever. For years, all I wanted was to see Mason Street grovel, to feel sorry, and to feel pain. And now all I want to do is love him.
I love him.
Chapter 15: Fitting In
Mason
Claire was on board with my plan. I had a feeling she would be. I was surprised she didn’t try to pry for details about Avery and me, but I guess chicks only really do that to each other.
I have almost everything figured out—I thought a Thursday night date would work better for her than a weekend. Max will be covered, and it’s easier to get Avery out of work. I haven’t talked to Ray again—not since I told him I took care of Adam.
Ben’s pissed that I’m late. He keeps texting me, wanting to know when I’ll make it to rehearsals. He’s like a jealous girlfriend when my time is focused anywhere other than on him.
I figure I’m already on his shit list, so what’s a few more minutes. I can see there are kids on the playground at Max’s school, and I just feel this pull—like I need to check on him. I cruise by at about five miles per hour, rounding the corner slowly. I’m sure I look like a predator, and I notice at least one of the teachers following my car with her eyes.
I’d speed up and keep driving, except I don’t see Max. Maybe it’s not his grade or something, but I swear these kids look like Max’s age. My chest starts to constrict. My head starts to go to dark places—like Max ran away and nobody noticed, or he’s in trouble…or he’s being pinned down in a bathroom by some asshole kid. I was that asshole kid.
I’m in the parking lot suddenly, like my steering wheel went on autopilot, and seconds later I’m jogging through the lot to the playground gate. I have to find him, I have to find him.
“Can I help you?” an older woman says, clearly sent to stop me from entering.
“Hi, I’m sorry. I’m…Max Abbot’s uncle,” I lie through my teeth. “I just promised his mom I’d swing by to check on him, since I was in the area.”
“Oh, well, normally you need to check in with the office to be on school grounds,” she says, her hand still blocking my way through the gate. I’m honestly thinking about just shoving her out of my way, but I know that probably wouldn’t go over well.
“Right. Right. I really don’t need to talk to him or anything, I was just making sure he was doing well at recess, and…look, I sort of panicked when I didn’t see him. Can you just tell me where he is?” I ask, and her guard drops a little. She smiles softly and nods. She must understand Max’s issues. Either that, or my charm now works on the over-sixty crowd. Whatever it is, she’s motioning for me to follow her onto the basketball court, so I do.
“He’s in there,” she points over to the giant concrete pipe off in the far corner of the playground. I remember that pipe—we used to call it the tunnel of love when I was in sixth grade. I kissed Mindy Howard in that tunnel. But something tells me that’s not what Max is in there for. I squint; I can see his feet propped up on the sidewall and his hands over his ears; he’s sitting perfectly still.
“Does he go in there often?” I ask, my heart sinking.
“He spends every recess in there. His teacher, Mrs. Bailey, will sometimes try to coax him out, but…you know Max. He seems content to just sit in there,” she says, staring at the same lonely boy I am.
“Is that Mrs. Bailey?” I ask, pointing to a woman near the tunnel.
“That’s her. Come on, I’ll introduce you,” she urges me to follow, and I do. I’m going to be really late for rehearsal, and Ben is going to shit over it, but I don’t care. I have to do something here.
“Mrs. Bailey? This is Max’s uncle…I’m sorry, what was your name?” she says, and I reach out my hand to shake Mrs. Bailey’s hand.
“Mason. I’m Mason,” I say, and she grabs my hand and smiles, clearly on to me. She seems like she’s going to play along though, so I ride out the lie.
“Hi, Mason. I didn’t know Max had an uncle,” she smirks when the older woman walks away.
“He doesn’t,” I respond with a shrug.
“I didn’t think so,” she laughs a little. “Are you friends with Avery?”
“Yeah,” I sigh, looking at the blue and white shoes now poking out of the end of the tunnel. “He’s in there…every day, huh?”
“Uh huh. Every recess. It’s still early, and he’ll find his way. School is hard, Mason. And for a kid like Max, everything is just a little harder,�
� she looks at me sympathetically.
“Does he have any…friends?” I ask, remembering the homework assignment from last night.
“Like I said, we’re working on it…it’s early yet. That’s one of his goals. He just needs to learn how to be with other kids right now,” she says, looking back over at Max. Every so often, his feet reposition, but his hands stay cupped on his ears. I think his eyes may even be closed. I just want to run over and give the kid his iPad, something to do, but I know that wouldn’t help this situation. It would only give him an out, a reason to recluse himself even more.
“Do you think…maybe I could visit your classroom for a few minutes sometime? I’m a musician, and Max has learned some things about music. Maybe, like, a show-and-tell? Just to help him break the ice,” I ask, my voice inside warning me I should probably bring Avery into something like this. But I’ve already made myself a relative, what’s crossing one more line?
“I think that might be nice,” she says, her smile bigger now.
“Okay, maybe tomorrow?” I say, not wanting to see Max’s feet in that tunnel for one more day.
“I’ll make some time in the morning, before recess. At nine?” she says, opening up the notebook in her arms and jotting down a reminder.
“I’ll be here,” I say, making my own mental note to get Avery…and Max…up to speed on my plan. “Thank you.”
I shake her hand goodbye and head back to my car, pulling my phone from my pocket to deal with the dozen or so angry texts from Ben.
What the hell? Where are you?
I write Ben back quickly before turning on my engine.
Relax, man. I’m on my way. Be there in 5.
I have to speed a little to get to his house in just under 10 minutes, and he’s pacing in the driveway, smoking, when I pull up.
“Fuck, man? Where’s your head at?” he says, throwing his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out.
Ben’s house is a lot like his life—the paint is chipping off the front door, and there are sheets tacked to the walls over the windows. It’s like a cave inside it’s so dark. It’s a small house on the not-so-nice end of town, and I’d rather move back in with my mom than live here. But he was anxious to get out of his house, and the rent here was cheap, so he jumped on it. He’s kept his lease during the tour, though he always talks about how when we hit it big, he’s going to buy one of the fancy mountain homes on the other side of the hill.
“My head’s right here,” I say, not really in the mood to get into it with him. He has some beef with me being with Avery. I don’t know what it is, but I know enough to know it’s probably petty and stupid.
“Better be,” he mutters under his breath. A couple months ago, that would have been enough to send my fist into his face, but I just find it ridiculous now. That’s how the last year of touring was. Matt and Josh spent most of the shows so drunk they barely remembered how to play our songs, and Ben got high, drunk, and belligerent. I’m starting to think time apart wasn’t such a bad thing.
I pull out my guitar and take my spot on the stool; Josh sits up from the lounger, ready to go. “I was thinking we could start out the hour with some cool covers. You know, like shit we always wanted to try?” I say, looking at Ben, hoping this might just inspire him a little.
“We used to do some Stones,” Ben says, taking his spot behind the drums and giving it a little kick. “Oh, and you know what might be cool? What if we did some Johnny Cash?”
My friend actually looks alive, and for the first time in months, I see a hint of him again.
Avery’s already been at work for a few hours when I roll in. It’s funny how nervous I get before seeing her. I actually changed my shirt in the car because my other one reeked of Ben’s smoke, and I didn’t want her to not want to be close to me.
I pick a spot in the corner, far away from everyone else, because I want to watch her, and when her eyes catch mine the first time as she passes through the kitchen door, my heart actually beats twice as fast. Her lips pull up into the quickest smile, and she keeps looking back to me, to make sure I’m watching her. And I am—I plan on watching her until I follow her home and beg her to sleep in my bed again. Ray hasn’t killed me yet!
“Well, if it isn’t my only child,” my mom says, sliding into the booth next to me and patting my leg. “You and the boys playing this weekend?”
As crazy as my mother makes me, I do love her. She wasn’t typical, and she’s selfish as hell—but I’d probably beat the shit out of anyone else that talked bad about her. And I still don’t believe any of her boyfriends have deserved her.
“We’re playin’ Friday. You working?” I ask.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she winks, leaning into me.
We’re quiet at the table together for a few minutes, just watching people walk in and out of the restaurant. There’s a certain tension to our silence—an awkwardness that started when I was a teenager, and our relationship changed. I don’t know what set it off, but I quit being her little boy, and I think maybe not needing her made her resent me a little. It sounds stupid, even now in my own head, but we both started pulling away from one another at the same time. And I think she’s always regretted it. Hell, maybe I have too. I can tell my mother wants to talk now, but she can’t seem to speak.
“I uh…I finally kissed Avery,” I say, biting my lip and looking at her sideways. My mom is a romantic at heart, so I know telling her this will make her smile—and for some reason, I feel like she needs to smile.
“I heard! Sorry I missed that little speech you made. Claire told me all about it,” she smiles, and my mom actually looks proud of me. “You know, I always wanted you to give that girl a chance.”
“Sure you did,” I say, rolling my eyes. My mom always prided herself on being some great matchmaker—for everyone other than herself.
“Roll your eyes at me all you want, Mason, but I always thought Avery would be good for you. She’s grounded,” she says, her eyes looking out over the growing crowd, and her face a little more serious than I’m used to. “You’ve got a lot of me in you. We’re dreamers. And that’s…that’s a good thing. But sometimes you need to remember about the important things here on the ground. Not just all that tempting stuff that’s up in the clouds.”
The heaviness of my mom’s words makes me swallow hard. I don’t think she’s ever said anything so deep in her entire life, and I don’t know how to react to it, so I just nod and smile.
“So, it’s your birthday next week,” she says, quickly changing the subject, just as uncomfortable as I am. Shit, I forgot. I’ll be twenty-six. I wonder when Avery’s birthday is? Suddenly there are a ton of things I realize I don’t know about Avery—that’s definitely going into the big date plan. “How about the two of you come over for dinner? I’ll make my sauce. You still like pasta, right?”
“That’d be nice, ma. We’ll be there,” I say, somehow feeling like this dinner is more for my mother than my birthday.
“Good. It’s settled then. I’ll see you two at six,” she says, standing and straightening out her apron and blouse, making sure she looks her best. My mom is always put together—sometimes a little over-the-top, but she’s put together. She’s always been the biggest tip earner at Dusty’s—partly because she flirts with the fat wallets, and partly because, despite her flaws, my mom is a damn hard worker…when she needs to be.
She gives me one last smile, and heads over to greet the newest tables of customers. I don’t know why, but the smile on her face when she walks away makes me sad.
I must be frowning, because Avery is looking at me from across the bar, and she mouths, “Are you all right?” I just nod and over exaggerate my smile to compensate. I’m actually better than I’ve ever been.
The night speeds by. Wednesdays are good dinner crowds—a lot of families come in. I used to like the middle of the week when I came in here with my mom. Ray was never busy, and that’s when he’d spend time letting me mess with his gui
tar. I can tell Ray is still avoiding me a little, which makes me…uneasy. I love that man, but damn, I’m pretty sure I love his daughter too, and if he told me I couldn’t be with her, I’m not sure what I would do.
Avery heads to the back and holds up a finger, letting me know she’ll only be another minute, so I walk over and sit at the corner of the bar to wait for her. Ray comes out just then with a couple of books to take some inventory; I can tell he stutter steps, not sure if he wants to hang out so close to me.
“Hey, Ray. So we’ve got a good set ready for Friday night,” I say, wanting to break the damned cold ice building up between the two of us. Ray smiles and grunts—he’s not sure what to do with me.
I might be taking my life into my own hands, but I stand up at the bar and head over to where Ray’s sitting, rubbing the sweat from my palms along my jeans before sticking my hand out for him to shake. It takes him a few seconds to notice, and when he does, he laughs a little under his breath.
“I didn’t really do this right, and I’m sorry,” I say. He raises one of his graying eyebrows at me, pulling his lip in tightly. “I probably should have asked for your blessing, or something like that. But I really like her, Ray. It’s more than like. ”
He looks at my eyes and then to my hand, chewing at his cheek, considering, before finally gripping my hand, cupping it with his other hand. When he looks back up at me, he’s a little teary eyed—it’s barely there, but I notice.
When Avery walks out, she sees us shaking hands, and she stops—she doesn’t want to interrupt, so instead she waits for my cue. “I’ll see you at the house. I’m gonna head out, as soon as Avery’s done,” I say, and Ray pats my hand once more and stands with his books, nodding. Avery starts to make noise and walks out of the kitchen just then.
“Hey, Dad. I’m heading home. Need anything?” she asks, her eyes locked on mine.