27 Truths: Ava's story (The Truth About Love #1)

by M. J. Fields

  Collin was shot and killed. Then my mother’s secret affair was exposed. We found out shortly after that Dad had and always would love Tessa. True to a man with my father’s character, he went after what he loved, and he did it knowing he would have her back.

  What should have been an awkward situation—your father marrying your best friend’s mother—was far from it. We all knew each other. Hell, we vacationed together, played sports together, did so many things together.

  “Does she call you grandpa?” I ask, hoping to make him smile again.

  He smirks. “Pop-pop.”

  “That’s adorable,” I say, and it is.

  Driving past Dad and Tessa’s house, I see a nativity set lit up in the yard.

  “Baby Jesus needs a coat, Dad. This isn’t Jerusalem.” Logan snickers. “Oops, no he doesn’t. He’s God’s son; he’s probably warm.”

  “It was his father who put him on the cross,” I remind him.

  “How jacked up is that?” Logan laughs.

  “Right?” Dad laughs, too.

  We pull down the road and turn onto the paved driveway toward Harper and Maddox’s house. It’s lined with cars, most of which I recognize, all family and close friends. I don’t see Luke’s truck, but he will be there.

  “Damn,” Logan sighs.

  “It’s cookie time, Loggie,” I joke.

  “Remember, Santa loves snickerdoodles,” Dad says, looking at me in the mirror.

  I shake my head. “He likes cut-outs.”

  “Not anymore,” Dad says as he parks the SUV. “He likes snickerdoodles.”

  When we walk through the front door, we are greeted by the noise that surrounds the Ross family—laughter, talking, some music in the background—and it hits me. These people have always been my family.

  Logan shrugs off his coat and hangs it up on one of the twenty or so hooks lining the wall of the back entry then helps me with mine.

  “I raised a man.” Dad pats him on the back.

  “And a princess.” Logan nods at me.

  “Ha, ha.” I smile and nudge him with my elbow.

  When we walk into the expansive kitchen, Jade, Luke’s mother, is the first person to see us.

  “Ava!” She is the first of many to hug me, and I hug her back.

  “You’ve done something different,” she says, looking me up and down.

  I shake my head. “No, nothing.”

  “Hey, Ava,” London, Harper’s seventeen-year-old sister-in-law hugs me.

  “Damn, girl,” I gasp. “You look different. More grown up.”

  She grins. “I graduate this spring.”

  “Braces are off,” I comment.

  “Thank God.” She groans.

  After hugging Tessa, Harper, and Maddox, I try to hug their daughter Piper, who apparently is going through a Mommy stage and wouldn’t let me. Then I hug Maddox’s parents, Tessa’s parents, and then Tessa’s brothers and sisters.

  Tessa wraps an apron around me. “You ready to get down to cookie business?”

  “Sure am,” I tell her, pulling my hair free from the apron strap and tying it up in a bun on top of my head.

  Everyone is chatting, laughing, and drinking homemade wine. Christmas music plays in the background as we roll dough, cutting cookies into Christmas tree, snowman, Santa Claus, and star shapes.

  “Harper, where is everyone?” I ask quietly.

  “You missed most of them. Liam, Remington, Jackson, and …” She pauses.

  I smile. “And …?”

  “Luke. They all had dates.”

  I smile back as I feel my spirit being crushed and my heart breaking. “Well, good for them.”

  “Good for who?” Jade asks as she reaches for the wooden rolling pin.

  “The boys and their dates,” I answer.

  Jade looks at me and shrugs. “I suppose it’s time they all started thinking about their futures. Hopefully, Luke will find someone who keeps his butt here. He says he’s reenlisting again.”

  His sister Riley groans. “I don’t get it. Hasn’t he sacrificed enough?”

  “Some people are born to be soldiers,” Jade says sadly. “I just wish he’d stop volunteering to go to war.”

  “I just wish he’d stay away from that skank. God, how long has it been? How many times has she been married?” Luke’s youngest sister Lauren chimes in.

  Every one of them looks alike: black hair and blue eyes. But Luke is taller, bigger, and less talkative.

  “Twice,” Jade and Riley say at the same time then laugh.

  I hold it together for an hour before I tell them all I’m exhausted. Dad immediately feels my forehead like I’m five years old, and Tessa smiles when she sees him doing it.

  For some reason, I take comfort in their exchange. Their love is timeless.

  ***

  I lie in my childhood bedroom with my head at the foot of the bed so I can look out the window and see when Luke returns. If he returns. God, my stomach hurts. I feel physically sick knowing he’s out with that bitch Alexis.

  I try to remind myself that he loves me. I know he does. Then I wonder if someone told him about me and T, the drummer for Harper’s husband Maddox’s band. We never slept together, just kissed, talked, laughed, and spooned.

  I decide that he’s probably trying to prove a point to me. I decided he is trying to make me jealous. I decide I understand. And I decide, when I tell him I love him and he tells me he loves me back, I will forgive him because, after those three little words are exchanged, nothing will ever keep us apart.

  I look at my phone. It’s midnight, and he’s still not back, but neither are his brothers.

  I get out of bed and crack the window so I can hear when he pulls in. Then I lie back down and close my eyes, knowing this sick feeling in my stomach will be gone as soon as I see him look at me the way he does. The way he stiffens when I smile at him, like he is forcing himself to hold back all the lust and desire he has for me, knowing once we touch, he can’t control his need to kiss me, make love to me. The way his eyes dance between my lips, my eyes, and back to my lips. The way he says, “You still in this, Ava?” and my heart beats faster and harder. Knowing what comes next makes my core turn from fire to lava. The words come out raw, needy. They sound like gravel, and I internally cringe until I hear, “Let’s fuck.”

  The way he grabs the back of my neck and pulls me toward him. The way his hungry mouth takes my lips so fiercely they feel bruised for days. The way his other hand cups me, and I can’t hold back the cry that leaves my throat.

  “Hurry,” I say as he pulls my shirt up while kicking off his shoes and I unfasten his belt.

  “Hurry,” I plead as he one-handedly unhooks my bra and yanks it from my body.

  “Hurry,” I whimper as he pulls off my pants and thong, both in one swift move.

  “Hurry,” I say as my hands pull his shirt over his head and throw it to the ground.

  “Hurry,” I say as he pushes his pants down far enough to roll on the condom as I run my hands up his biceps, his shoulders, and link them together behind his neck.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” I say as he lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his hips.

  He thrusts inside me fully, holding nothing back.

  “Yes,” he hisses as he pushes me up against the wall and takes me hard and fast with urgency and need.

  “Been too long,” he grunts as he moves his body, taking what he needs from me, giving me what I need from him.

  “Can’t hold back,” he grunts as his pace hastens.

  “Don’t you dare,” I whimper.

  He stills. It’s over too quickly, but I know round two is minutes away.

  ***

  I wake because I am freezing cold and look at my phone. It’s three in the morning, and I still can’t see his vehicle. I know it has to be there. I get up and try to get a closer look, but still, I can’t see. The sound of his engine and the lights in his truck must have been muffled by my dreams.

  I
look down, hoping to see his footprints below my window, but I know the falling snow would have covered them.

  I close the window and decide it’s best if he thinks I ignored the pebbles or one loud whistle he’s always used to get my attention. Then he will know I am not okay with him dating here in our hometown. I’m not okay with him being with her of all people.

  I lie back down, still sick to my stomach, and try to fall asleep. I lie there for three hours before deciding to take a walk. It’s cold, and hopefully, when I come back in, the heat will help me sleep.

  I will see him today. It’s Christmas Eve.

  I throw on an Under Armor shirt and long underwear, layering them with sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Then I pull on wool socks and head downstairs.

  I look out the window to see that dawn has broken.

  I pull on my thin North Face ski jacket and shove my feet in my winter hiking boots then walk out the door.

  I don’t hate the cold, but you don’t just go for a walk at six in the morning on December 24th in Central New York. It’s bitter cold, the roads are crappy, and living in the country, there are no sidewalks, so you’re on the curb. I know this since I’ve lived here all my life, but clearly, I wasn’t thinking when I decided to get up and take a leisurely stroll by Luke’s house to rid my anxiety that he isn’t home, try to expunge the nervous energy, and freeze enough to put myself to sleep. It makes no sense, but here I am, a twenty-five-year-old woman making a ridiculous decision because why? Because I am in the most complicated relationship in the history of relationships. Is it worth it? Yes.

  My steps quicken as I near his driveway, needing to see his truck. Then I need to keep walking so I don’t look like a foolish little girl if he happens to see me walk by. As much as I would like to turn around and possibly jog home and jump back into bed, it can’t and won’t happen.

  When I walk quickly past the house, I see his truck isn’t home, and I feel emotions boil up in my throat as tears tease my eyes. I am hurt, sick to my stomach, and angry. My steps come more quickly as I make my way down to the end of the road.

  When I’m almost at the stop sign exactly half a mile from my house where I planned to turn and head back, I see a Chevy turn off at Tollgate Hill Road toward me. It’s Luke.

  As he nears me, I look at the ground to avoid the awkward nod, wave, or even more awkward, him possibly not waving at me, which would be heartbreaking. But maybe he just got up early.

  He slows down as he passes, and I speed up my pace. Then I hear brakes, a transmission shifting gears, and the tires crunching as he backs up and is now literarily right beside me.

  He rolls down his window. “Need a ride?”

  I try to get a good look at him. I try to see if he’s an early riser or if he is just now getting home from a late night.

  I smile and shake my head. “I need the exercise.”

  His eyes go from my lips to my eyes and back again. “Get in the truck, Ava.”

  THREE

  * * *

  Love is ugly and love can heal.

  — M. Sanchez-Cortez

  I look up, and our eyes meet, blue to blue.

  He runs his hand over his head and sighs, “It’s too early to be taking a walk. Too shitty out, too.”

  The words register, but I’m so damn busy trying to stop myself from feeling like I want to kiss him one second and slap him the next. He’s clearly been out all night. He looks exhausted.

  “Ava, get in the damn truck.”

  He swings his door open, steps out, picks me up, all but throws me inside, and jumps in behind me when a snowplow whizzes past us.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he snaps.

  I immediately look away from him. I feel stupid, so damn stupid.

  “Ava?” The way he says my name is cold and has never sounded worse.

  “I was walking,” I snap back, scowling.

  He throws his truck in drive and heads toward my house. “Bad fucking idea, kid.”

  When he passes his house and then mine, I look at him.

  He senses it immediately and looks over at me. “My family will be up soon. Passed your brother heading into Ithaca, so I’m gonna assume he’s going to the gym, but can’t be too sure. Safer to get a hotel.”

  “Didn’t you get enough last night?” comes out snippy and immature.

  He slows down and looks at me. “You and I have a problem I don’t know about? If we do, say the word and I’ll take you home.” His eyes do that thing, going back and forth between mine.

  It’s been too damn long, and I have planned the next two weeks out to a T. I need to tell him I’m ready to move forward with what is going on between us.

  I’m crushed that he may have been with her, but that’s my fault, too. I have played this game with him and been just fine with it because, in being a player in this game for two, my end goal has always been to win his heart.

  When I don’t say anything, he says, “Good.” He nods. “You all bundled up?”

  I nod back, not wanting to say anything because I am nervous, more so than I ever have been in my life.

  “I thought maybe you’d gained some weight. You think you could lose some of the layers before we get there, Ava?” he says with all the directness Luke brings whenever we are together.

  I start with my jacket and very slowly remove my sweatshirt. The way he watches me makes my pulse quicken and my mouth get drier. It’s as if every sense heightens, including my sense of need.

  He hops out of his truck and heads inside the Super Eight in Dryden, the next town over. He is gone long enough for me to become more anxious and far less brave than I felt when he was in the truck. The thought brings clarity.

  With him, I feel stronger.

  When he comes out, he opens my door and steps back. I reach out my hand for him to take. He helps me out and then releases my hand so he can hit the key fob and lock the door. Then he turns and walks toward the door.

  I follow him.

  As soon as I walk through the door, he turns, wraps his arm around my waist, lifts me, and shuts the door.

  My heart is pounding against his, his against mine. I look into his eyes, and my breath is lost. I have to look away.

  “With me?” he asks as he gives my hips a squeeze.

  I nod. Then I glance up into his eyes.

  They show signs of age and sadness. That’s new.

  I can’t help myself from reaching up and rubbing my thumbs along the sides of his eyes.

  “You worry too much.”

  He pulls away from my touch slowly and loosens his grip, allowing my body to slide down his until my feet hit the floor.

  “Let’s fuck.” The words come out just as raw and needy as they do every time we’re together. The sound of his voice, like gravel, lightly scratches my insides like it always has.

  He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me toward him. His hungry mouth takes mine fiercely, and I groan into his. With his other hand, he cups me, and I can’t hold back the cry that leaves my throat.

  He breaks our kiss and grabs the hem of my shirt, pulling it up.

  “Hurry,” I quietly beg.

  We both kick off our shoes as he unhooks my bra, and I unfasten his belt.

  “Hurry,” I beg a bit more loudly as I allow my bra to fall from my arms and immediately unfasten his belt then push down his pants and boxers.

  My body is seconds from falling apart, and he isn’t even inside me.

  I whimper as he pulls off both my sweatpants and thong in one swift movement.

  “Hurry,” I close my eyes and beg as he pulls his sweatshirt free.

  Keeping my eyes closed, I hold his hips and try to slow down my pace as I run my hands up his strong body.

  “Hurry,” I say as I run my hands up his biceps, his shoulders, and link them together behind his neck.

  God, I’ve missed you, I think as he lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his hips.

  He thrusts inside me fully, holding nothing back.


  “Yes,” he hisses as he pushes me up against the wall and takes me hard and fast with urgency and need.

  “Damn you, Ava,” he curses the pleasure he gets from me as he moves his body, taking what he needs from me, giving me what I need from him.

  “Can’t hold back,” he grunts as his pace hastens.

  “Don’t you dare,” I cry as I meet his thrusts.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on to him more tightly than ever before, feeling his body calling mine to release almost immediately.

  I bite down on his shoulder, and my back hits the wall as he fucks me harder, faster, and without restraint or apology.

  We come together, and to me, it’s a sign that the universe has finally aligned. This is our time. His and mine, mine and his. And I know the minute I tell him I love him, everything will be as it should.

  When my legs stop trembling, I unhook my ankles from behind him, and he pulls out of me.

  “Need a couple minutes,” he says, avoiding eye contact as he walks to the bed.

  His ass is magnificent: hard, tight, muscular.

  I watch as he kicks off his pants and sits at the end of the bed then sighs before looking at me. “You need to clean up?”

  “Oh.” I nod. “Yeah, I should.”

  I walk quickly into the bathroom and take care of our … love?

  Wow, that’s a first. How does one broach that subject? Do I even need to? He wouldn’t put me in harm’s way any more than I would him. I’m sure it’s fine.

  After cleaning up, I grab a towel and walk out of the bathroom toward the bed.

  He’s lying on his back with one hand behind his head, the other over his eyes. His lower body is uncovered, giving a sinful view.

  I slide in next to him, not touching him. He makes the first move, always.

  “Give me ten,” he states.

  I lie back, look at the ceiling, and start counting to six hundred.

  ***

  I wake to thrashing, undistinguishable curses, and low pain packed with sorrow-filled noises that sound almost like a cry.

  I sit up quickly, realizing where I am and the noises are coming from Luke.

  I grab for his hand to try to wake him, but as soon as I touch him, I am flying backward off the bed.