Sweet Nothing(53)

“He never blamed me. Not once.”

“Because you were a little boy, Josh.”

“They should have gotten a divorce a lot sooner than they did,” I said, picking at the steering wheel.

“Maybe they were afraid to lose anyone else.”

I glanced over at her, seeing a familiar, old hurt in her eyes. “Dad was finally able to make peace with the fact that his family could never be the same. That’s when he bought our first Mopar, a sixty-eight Dart GTS in Rallye Red with a 383 Magnum. We worked on it together every free moment we had. She was beautiful. When she was finished, Dad sold it and bought a sixty-nine Frost Green Road Runner with a big-block. We found comfort in restoring old cars. It was cheap therapy. I don’t know what I would have done without my dad.”

“Do you have to see your mom every time you visit your dad?”

“No, I guess not, but I feel like I should. She makes it harder than it has to be. She blames me, with every drink, every glare, every breath. Probably why I don’t come home as often as Dad would like.”

Avery covered her mouth and shook her head. “I am an *. I should have talked to you more before insisting we come here.”

I offered a small grin. “You were right, though. You need to know what you’re dealing with before you shack up with me.”

“That’s not why,” she said, shaking her head. “I just thought maybe … if I met them, somehow things would get better. That’s stupid, I know.” She became more flustered with every word.

I looked over at her, her cheeks pink, her eyes glossed over. I was complaining about having parents when she didn’t have any.

“Jesus, Avery. I’m the *.” I took her hand in mine, pulling it to my lips and pressing a kiss to her fingers.

“No, I get it.”

“You … you wanna …”

“Talk about it?” she asked with a knowing look. She raised an eyebrow. Damn it if she wasn’t rubbing off on me.

I shook my head and squeezed her hand. “I’m just nervous. You know that, right? I’m honestly not purposefully being a dick to you. If I didn’t think it was important, I wouldn’t be so worried.”

“You’re supposed to be trusting me,” she said, squeezing back.

I glanced over at her and then let my shoulders relax. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

She beamed, and I pressed my foot on the gas.





“I wasn’t sure you were really coming,” Mom said as we stepped inside the living room. I could tell she was as nervous as I was, and the smell of bourbon wafting in the air around her didn’t escape me.

The paint, carpet, and furniture still looked the way it had when I lived there.

“Mom, this is Avery. Avery, this is my mother, Mary.”

Mom grinned, pulling Avery in for a tight hug. “You are a pretty little thing,” she said as she pulled back, looking her over.

I could tell Mom was shocked that the friend I had brought home was female. I could have told her I was seeing someone, but I hadn’t called her since the accident.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Avery’s voice shook, but she kept a smile on her face. It occurred to me why she was nervous. She wasn’t judging me, or even my parents. She wanted this to be perfect because she loved me. Guilt panged in my gut from what a jerk I had been for most of the trip.

“I expected you earlier,” Mom said as she made her way toward the kitchen. I slid my fingers in Avery’s and gave her hand a gentle squeeze as we followed. Mom’s back was to us, but I could tell by the sound of glass clinking she was refreshing her drink.

“You didn’t know I was coming until a few hours ago.”

“It’s my fault. I made him stop at least a dozen times,” Avery said.

Mom smiled at Avery, but once she glanced in my direction, her lips pressed into a hard line.

“Well, at least you made it.” She shook her head in disapproval as she picked up a tea towel, folded it, and dropped it back on the table.

“Did we miss dinner?” I asked, rubbing my thumb over the back of Avery’s hand.

Mom laughed. “You know I don’t cook.”

“I’ll order something, then. We haven’t eaten. You have a menu for Wok n Roll?”

Mom pulled open a kitchen drawer, sifting through a few menus before holding one out to me. Avery’s eyes lit up at the thought of Japanese food.

“They don’t deliver anymore. You’ll have to pick it up,” Mom spoke as she swirled the amber liquid in her glass.

“No problem.”

“Are you hungry?” Avery asked, her voice almost shrill.

“Whatever,” Mom said, waving us away. “Just something, I’m not picky.”

I pulled Avery from the house, unable to walk fast enough. Once we sat in the car, Avery touched my knee.

“You okay?”

I nodded, pulling back my cheeks to form some sort of a smile.

“You don’t have to pretend for me. It’s okay. We can leave if you want.”

I looked down. “If you’re looking to marry into a new family, mine isn’t it, Avery. I shouldn’t try to cheat you out of that.”

“You’re my family, remember? And I’m yours.”