Naked Love(58)

“I don’t care what you say,” she says after clearing her throat. “I’m getting a sandwich with tons of meat and cheese, no veggies, extra mayo, and a bag of cheesy ranch and bacon flavored chips.”

Stepping off the curb, I wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her back to my chest and kissing the top of her head while she takes another moment to wipe the emotion from her eyes. “Okay, Ave.” I chuckle.

“Okay.” She draws in a shaky breath, pushing some confidence into her spine. “I’m glad we got that straight.”

“Me too.” I take her hand and guide her toward the restaurant.

We grab lunch and perch on the truck’s tailgate to eat it in the scorching sun. Terrible idea. Swarley stretches his legs before begging to get back in the shade of the backseat.

“My dad cheated on my mom.” I stare at the busy road beyond the parking lot, legs swinging from the tailgate while eating my hummus wrap. “He asked for forgiveness. She gave it to him. He did it again—told her it was because she’d let herself go. She got pregnant when I was eight and lost the baby before it was born. I just remember her being sad all the time. She fed her grief with food. He fed his with other women. The things he said to her … the way he made her feel … I hated him. Now there’s not a word strong enough to describe how much I despise him.”

Avery stills her swaying legs and drops the last third of her sandwich into the paper bag. “I should have just gotten into the truck,” she whispers.

“No.” I blow a quick breath out of my nose. “That’s not why I’m telling you this. I was angry. I think I’ll always be angry. But can you fucking believe it? I grew up outside of Los Angeles. My dad left four years before my mom died. Just … left. As a ten-year-old, I didn’t really know what that meant. She said he was angry, and when he cooled off he’d be home. He came home four years later. With fucking Francine.” I laugh. It still hurts. God … I think it will always hurt.

“He brought his whore to my mother’s funeral. It was the day I found out that I could land a punch … that I could break someone’s face. That I wanted to break someone like that. And after all these years, having no idea where he lives, we run into him at a fucking swimming hole in New Mexico. What are the chances?”

Avery rests her hand on my leg. “Did you have to live with your dad after your mom died?”

“No.” I grunt a breath of sarcasm. “I lived with my uncle—my dad’s brother. He was more like a cousin to me because we were only eight years apart in age. He’d just gotten an apartment in L.A. after being abroad for two years.

“After the incident at the funeral, everyone knew there was no way I was going to live with my dad and Francine. She was twenty. Six years older than me. Skinny … big boobs … and she had it all on display at the funeral. My mother killed herself because she’d gained over one hundred pounds, was morbidly obese, and diagnosed with diabetes. My father never missed a chance to make her feel ugly and worthless. Kids at school made fun of my mom before she died. I hated them. I hated my dad. I hated every person who reminded me of the women he slept with while my mom ordered takeout and cried herself to sleep.”

Avery starts to slide her hand off my lap, but I grab it.

“Don’t.” My gaze remains fixed on the busy road. “You’re not her. You’re not them. You’re not my revenge.”

“I think you’re saying that because I’m here, out of my element. But you didn’t feel that way the day I walked into your cafe. Had we not been forced to be together for this long, you wouldn’t have asked me out on a date. You wouldn’t have given me a second look because, upon that first look, all you saw was another Francine.”

“And all you saw was another guy who would break your heart—monkey-spanking dick cheese. Had I asked for your phone number, you would have taken one look at me, made a shitload of assumptions, and walked out without a single glance back.”

She pulls harder, freeing her hand from mine, and hops off the tailgate. “We don’t make sense together.”

I slide off the tailgate and close it. “Probably not.”

Avery turns toward me. “Eventually, we have to go home. And there will be questions to answer.”

“What questions?”

“Questions like, what are we doing?”

“We’ll answer them later.”

She shakes her head. “You’re delaying the inevitable.”

I take the sack from her and walk toward the door to the laundromat. “I’m not.”

Avery follows me. I hold the door open for her as she gives me a narrow-eyed glare while walking into the building. “You are. You’re using me for sex on your summer road trip.”

“I’m having sex with you on my summer road trip. And it’s surprisingly good sex. The questions … well, maybe by the time we get to L.A., we’ll have the answers.”

I don’t really believe that at all. I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing. But it doesn’t serve a purpose to let her know that right now.

“Surprisingly good sex? Wow …” She opens the first washer and piles clothes into the rolling basket. “That statement sounds like the preamble to the rest of our trip—no sex.”