Chapter Twenty-Six
“Avery”
Eight weeks later…
Khloe: Rise and shine. Get on your sexiest yoga duds and meet me in the backyard.
Avery: What? It’s only 6. I was up until 4 writing. Need sleep.
Khloe: Don’t argue with me. Do you want me to come to your room and pound down your door?
Avery: Please don’t. Not again. What I want is sleep.
Khloe: Yoga duds so long as they’re hot. Be outside in 5 minutes. Otherwise I’m coming in after you.
Avery: ***sticking tongue out at you*** I’m not doing this anymore. You and your sisters have been forcing me to do junk I’d never do. Not over a guy. I’m hardly getting any writing done. I feel like crap and I’m exhausted. I’m nauseous all the time. I can’t focus or write. I’m starting to feel pathetic. Isn’t this supposed to make me feel better not worse? Tell your sisters thanks but no thanks. I quit. I’m just going to go talk to Ethan. I can’t stand the jumping beans in my stomach a second longer. I’m going to ask him straight up why he’s frozen me out.
Khloe: No, if you do that, THEN you’re being pathetic. Won’t let you do it. Trust me, looking hot as hell & ignoring him & having fun, better move. Never be the one to try to fix things with a guy if he blows you off in the morning. Make him come to you.
Avery: What if he doesn’t?
Khloe: He will. I know my brother. You’re driving him nuts. He’s close to breaking.
Avery: Groaning… I don’t want him to break. I only want to know why he’s not into me anymore. Why we stopped being friends.
Khloe: Oh, he’s into you. But he’s being male, for some reason. Got a stick up his ass over something. And he needs to be broken of that. I never expected Ethan to be this way with a girl. But he’s shown he’s got the gene. Time to get rid of it. No way I’m letting him turn to the dark side like Eric.
Avery: But he doesn’t. I’ve never seen it before with any girl. He’s always wonderful to his girlfriends. It’s part of why I like him so much. No head games, no drama, no lies, no bullshit. It must be me. He’s not like this, not ever. Somehow I’ve made him this way.
Khloe: IT’S NOT YOU! STOP THINKING THAT.
Avery: Don’t shout. It’s too early.
Khloe: Well, don’t piss me off before I’ve had my java. And stop stalling. See you in a few.
* * *
“Ethan”
Swiping the hair from my face, I stare up at the ceiling. It’s not light out yet and I’m wide awake. Not that I got much sleep in the four hours in my bed. Going out last night with friends. Having drinks. Some fun. Did nothing. I hit my mattresses and, zap, it started again. Avery taking hostage of my mental space.
But, fuck, what’s up with her?
She acts more like my sister Khloe these days and dresses like her, too. All legs. All tits in the face. All sexy girl nut-twisting from morning until she stumbles in for the night from wherever they’ve been.
Where the hell do the girls take off to every night? Is Avery seeing someone? Is Khloe out there hooking her up with her wild, rich, party-boy friends? Nah, those kinds of guys can’t be Avery’s type. But it irks that she might be seeing someone this soon after my brother left. Eric’s a douche, but it’s harsh she’s moved on from him so quickly. Unlike Tara, who can’t stop living in fantasyland that rehab will make him a new Eric and endlessly obsessing about him every time I go to see Hana.
Groaning, I turn on my side and punch my pillow. Why does every girl who dumps me for him turn into a girl who drives me insane—I frown—and why do they get hotter looking?
Christ, Avery was hot enough before Khloe got her hands on her and turned into an LA fast-lane goddess. I like how Avery was before better, though I don’t exactly not like how she looks now. Fuck it, fine, the truth—she’s so hot I have blisters on my flesh most days.
I shove off my blankets and climb from bed. When is this fucking nightmare going to be over so I can move back to my own house and away from her? I won’t ever get her pushed from my thoughts if I have to keep seeing her each day.
I grab my pair of sweats from the floor, jerk them in place, and head for the door. Someone better have made coffee already, that’s all I can say. I need coffee, a shower, and to get out of the house without seeing her today.
One day, no Avery, and maybe then I can make headway with getting over what she did to me.
I amble into the kitchen, stop, and stare. What the fuck is happening in my world? I rub my eyes before I look again to make sure I’m not seeing things.
Alan’s sitting in a chair facing the wall of glass that overlooks the backyard, dressed, coffee in hand, morning stock programs on the flat screen.
“Since when did you start getting up at dawn, Pop, or haven’t you been to bed yet?”
He laughs. “Since your mom started to do tai chi on the cliffs instead of watching the sunrise. Some crazy notion she was losing her figure. But, damn, look at her. Sixty-two and gives all the girls a run for their money in the looks department. God, I love that woman and watching her. Worth getting out of bed at six every day to watch her do this. She’s sexy as hell even at sixty-two.”
No filter. Didn’t need to hear that. “OK, Pop. Whatever you say.” I take a beat. “Any coffee for me?”
Alan laughs. “You know where it is. Get it yourself. Then come back. Sit with me. We haven’t talked much lately.”
I stir sugar into my mug, not loving the idea of tai chi patrol, though more power to Dad for being into it. “I think I’ll pass. I need to get moving. I’ve got junk to do today.”
Alan’s gaze shifts to me. “What kind of junk?”
“I need to take care of a few things then I’m meeting up with Hugh and the guys. Talking things through.”
His mouth makes a tight upside-down smile as he nods. “Have you made a decision? Are you going to stay with the band?”
I shrug. “Probably. Fuck, I don’t know. I’m not sure what I want to do with my life.”
“Well, you’ll know when you know.”
“Yeah. I’m meeting with Hugh to get him to stop hounding me, and I do owe them an answer. Even if I quit, I want him to know there’s no hard feelings for what went down backstage at the Bowl so he can stop sending me apology texts and pressuring me to talk to him.”
Alan smiles. “Apology texts, huh?”
I rummage in the fridge for something to fill my stomach. “Yep. Twice a week, like a woman. Same text over and over again: ‘Let’s talk this out. Don’t want to leave things where they are. I’d never have said that shit if I’d known it was you instead of Eric. What I said isn’t wrong, but I wouldn’t have said it to you.’ Wank. Wank. Wank. But he’s right. We need to talk it out. We’ve been friends fucking forever.”
“Sound plan. Don’t make enemies if you don’t have to. You’ll have a happier life.”
I put my bagel into the toaster. “I don’t know about that. Just tired of too many things in my life feeling like they’re unresolved. Time to get shit settled and start moving forward again.”
My dad goes back to watching my mother do Chinese exercise. I watch him from my place at the counter. “Hey, Dad, how soon until I move back home again?”
His shoulders do a slow roll. “As soon as Graham Carson tells me we have nothing to worry about.”
It still blows my mind that the trouble Eric got into in Houston was of a magnitude that Dad had to call Carson to take care of it. Alan’s muscle and fix-it man. Though the part about some crime syndicate maybe doing something to us because Eric owes them money sounds suspect to me. That the police and FBI may roll in the mix makes even less sense.
But, fuck, what do I know?
Having ex-Special Forces mercenary-for-hire Carson involved should tell me it’s serious and to be enough to get me to stop questioning things and roll with what my parents want until it’s over.
“It’s been two months, Dad. Shouldn’t Carson have been able to resolve things by now and our life get back to normal?”
For that, I get another shrug. “Things take time if you want them done well.”
“I don’t want to know what managing an Eric problem well means in the context of Carson. I’m ready to get back to my own life, though.”
“Soon.”
Pop sounds certain so I let it go.
I go toward the door with my mug and plate, and Alan’s face turns to me. “Leaving? Have your breakfast with me. I thought you’d sit with me for a while.”
“Nah, I’m passing on that.”
He grins. “Are you sure? Your little redhead doesn’t look half bad out there.”
I whirl back around. “What? Avery’s part of the morning exercise clique now?”
I look through the patio doors, and yep, there’s Avery, right in the middle of the estrogen zone. And not half bad looking is an understatement, if what’s shooting through my groin is any indication.
Tight thigh short-short exercise pants, sexy sheer t-shirt, and her firm ass moving gracefully with her arms.
Too fucking hot, too fucking early.
One look at her and I get a flash in my head of those luscious legs wrapped around me as I plunge into her.
I blink away the thought.
No, I don’t want another day of nothing but Avery fantasies playing in my head on an endless loop. This shit’s gotta stop. The sex slide show gets more graphic every day, and worse, my cock’s having ghost memories of what it feels like to fuck her. You know, like when a guy loses a limb and has the sensation of it still being there. My cock has the sensation of having been inside Avery and wanting to drag us both back for more.
Yep, I’m borderline losing it.
“She’s not my redhead.”
“Too bad. Great girl. I enjoy having her around. She seems to get along well with your mom and sisters. That one’s a keeper.”
I groan. “Dad, you don’t have to pick out girls for me. I can manage my sex life on my own.”
Alan’s jet brows jerk upward, surprised.
Oh fuck, did I say sex life?
That wasn’t what I meant to say.
“How long does Avery have to stay here?”
His black brows go higher. “Until Carson says she can go. I’ve told you that.”
I rake back my hair. Now my head feels like it’s going to explode just like my cock does. God, I need a way out of living with her, fast.
“But your explanation doesn’t make sense that, because she helped Eric in Houston after he was dumped in an alley by the people who were blackmailing him, they know who she is and might come after her, too.”
Alan’s eyes bore into me. “I don’t ask Carson to explain things to me and neither should you. I just do. He’s seen the family through a lot of bad times, he’s the one who delivered Eric safely where he needs to be, and he’s not let me down yet.”
My face heats from the sound of an Alan reprimand. Short. Clipped. Accent excessively British. Yep, I’ve pissed off my dad, somehow, someway; that’s his back-off voice. Fine, backing off.
“Whatever you say, Pop.” I study him for a moment, reminding myself that however unbearable this situation is on me it must be twice as hard on my folks. I shouldn’t give Alan a hard time. “Have you and Mom heard from Eric? Do you know if he’s all right?”
He stares out across the lawn, his face stripped of emotion and unreadable. “No, haven’t heard from him. He’s not back. That means he’s OK.”
Frowning, I struggle with understanding that one as much as I’ve struggled with everything since this began. “How can you be sure?”
“Graham Carson doesn’t fail. Not ever.”