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

“You have my number?” she asks.

I nod. “I’ll be in touch.”

Once in the vehicle, I put Hope into a seat that seems way too big for her. Dad is sitting next to me, helping me buckle her in.

“I don’t know if I’ve said thank you enough for everything.”

“Ava, we know, okay, sweetheart? We know.”

“I have no idea how I would have made it through without everyone.”

“That’s why you should move home as soon as Chance is well enough.”

I half-laugh at the idea. “We have a home. I will figure it out.”

“Ava, you are going to need us. And baby girl, we need you.”

“Daddy, did you see what he did for them? I’m not taking them away from it. Not ever.”

He looks at me and takes in a deep breath. Then he looks down and kisses Hope’s little head before looking back at me. “We’ll figure it out, Ava. All of it.”

As we pull away from the hospital, I feel a different hell than the one I have been in since the night Thomas was hit. I am leaving one of my children for the first time because the other is strong enough to go home.

“Ava,” Dad says, looking back at me in the rearview mirror. “Your mother and Logan are with him.”

I nod as my eyes well up with tears.

“He’s getting stronger.”

I nod again.

“They didn’t think he was going to make it, and he did. He will be with you and his sister soon.”

I nod as I look down at my sleeping angel who is holding my finger and sucking on a little blue-green pacifier.

For a week, she couldn’t even suck. She couldn’t even breathe on her own for a full day, and now, she is going home.

She is hope.

“Brody and Maddox contacted T’s lawyer. Apparently, he had already changed everything in his will, leaving you as his sole beneficiary.”

“Why did he have a will?” I ask myself out loud. “He’s too young to even have had to worry about such things.”

“He was also in a rock band and made more money from royalties in a month than I ever did in a year at his age. Those royalties don’t stop, Ava. Your children will be taken care of.”

I don’t respond. I look down at Hope and whisper, “And we would give it all away just to have him here with us, wouldn’t we, Hope?”

I look at her, unable to believe she has more than doubled in size since the first time I saw her. Dr. Kennedy tells me it’s due to my milk, and she says it with an expectancy in her voice that rubs me the wrong way. I also know it pushes me to continue expressing milk regardless of how much my breasts hurt. Besides, hurt is welcome over pain, and pumping fills the quiet time.

Pain is in those moments.

The pain-filled moments when I think of him, I want to join him. I want to because life on this earth is black and white. The only color I see is in our children and in Piper.

I love my family. I love them. But my love for T, as well as his for me, is a love like nothing I ever felt. His love for me was euphoric; our home was Utopia; and nothing else will ever compare, not ever.

“Jade called this morning. Luke is coming home,” Dad says, but I don’t look up. “Ava?”

“I heard you. That’s wonderful for them.”

“It’s wonderful for all of us,” he says.

I nod.

***

Getting out of the vehicle is harder than I could have imagined. However, I force myself for Hope.

“Want to see what your daddy did for you and your brother, Hope?”

In Hope, I find strength, just like I did in her father. Like I still do in his love.

He is with me in my pain, and he is with me in our children. In our children, there is the epic and extraordinary love of two people. I will do whatever I have to for them.

I step out and can’t look left. My heart beats in my throat, and my hands tremble.

Pain. Pain lives outside of our home.

“Let’s get you inside,” Dad says as he leans in and unlatches Hope’s seat.

His arm is around my waist, and I am not sure if he is holding me up or if I am. His opposite hand has my Hope in her carrier.

Tessa, Brody, Emma, London, Lexington, Harper, Maddox, Piper, my mother’s sisters, Ally, and Alex are in the lobby when we walk in. It’s overwhelming.

“We’ll give you a minute,” Tessa says as we walk past them into the cargo elevator.

“Thanks,” Dad says since I am unable.

“I go, too,” Pipers says, starting to walk toward us.

“Not yet,” Harper stops her.

Hurt shows on her face, and I cannot bear it.

“It’s fine.” I hold out my hand for Piper.

When Dad closes the door in front of us, Piper lets go of my hand and walks over to the carrier.

“Hi, butterfly,” she says as she reaches in and tickles her belly.

Hope’s eyes open, and I wonder if she is frightened by all the new surroundings and Piper’s little face less than six inches from her.

Piper smiles and giggles. Then she puts her hands up, thumbs facing each other, and makes her fingers dance. “Butterfly hi’s, baby Hope, and welcome home.”

Hope stares at her and not the light, which is unusual.

Piper giggles again and looks up at Dad and then me. “See? T is okay.”

Dad looks at me like he is expecting me to fall apart.

I put on a smile for her, the first in weeks.

“And you’re all right, too. See?” She puts her hands up again. “Butterfly hi’s.”

I nod, grateful the elevator stops, distracting her, because I don’t know if I can take it while walking in here.

“Hey, Piper,” I say, trying to smile. “I might get sad when I walk in here.”

She shrugs. “I know.”

When Dad opens the door, I take the carrier from him.

“You sure, Ava?”

I nod. “I’m sure.”

“Follow me,” Piper says as she skips inside.

“Just a minute, okay?”

“Yep, I’ll be in Hope and Chance’s room.”

I set the carrier on the counter and push the buttons on the side of the handle before pushing back the bar. “Welcome home, Hope,” I say as a tear slips down my cheek. I finish unbuckling her and pick her up, holding her tightly against my chest. “Welcome home, sweet girl.”

The house is clean, but there are suitcases piled in a corner. I am not alone, still not alone with my grief. I hope I can continue showing that I am strong when, in reality, I’m a mess. I am glad no one can see that I have no idea how to deal with any of what is going on.

As I start to walk toward their room, the bathroom door opens, and Liam steps out.

“Sorry, I was supposed to stay downstairs. I slipped past security to use the bathroom.” He walks over and leans over my shoulder. “Hey there, little one. You look like your daddy.”

I look up at him. “You think so?”

Despite no one saying that, I have thought it, but I was afraid it was just me wanting to see him in them.

“Eye shape.” He smiles. “Facial structure. You definitely look like your father, little one.” He gives me a quick kiss on the head. “I’ll head down.”

“No, stay.”

“I will, but you better tell the head of security that you okayed it.”

I give him a quizzical look.

“Tessa. She insisted we give you time. She also insisted that we all stay back upstate, and I kind of snuck my way down.”

“I’m glad,” I say, nodding.

He smiles. “That Tessa is keeping everyone away or that I’m here?”

“Both?” I say because my head is swimming in a sea of overwhelming emotions.

He nods. “Okay, both.”

I walk with Hope into the nursery, feeling dizzy, and make my way to the rocker T put together for me to sit in. Piper is next to the one he was supposed to be in, right next to mine.

“It’s beautiful, Hope,” she whispers and giggles.

Hope looks toward the window, seeking the light. She seems content when she finds it.

“She likes it.” Piper also seems content with her summarization of the situation.

After securing Hope in one arm, I pat Piper’s head. “Of course she does.”

She walks away from me and faces the wall that T drew and painted in bright, vivid colors. She stands in front of it and does the same hand gesture, the butterfly one.

“He’s okay, Ava. He’s happy.”

“How do you know?” I manage to croak out.

She turns around and smiles as brightly as day. “He tells me.”

“Pip-Pip, how about we give Ava a minute?” Dad says, peeking his head in. Apparently, I am unable to hide my grief as well as I thought.

He picks her up, and she points to one of the clouds. “Right there. He’s happy.”

“Okay, little one,” Dad says.

“I’ll take her.” Liam holds his hands out.

She shakes her head. “Pop-pop’s girl.”

Dad kisses my head then walks toward the door. “I’ll be out here if you need anything, Ava.”

“Me, too,” Liam says, clearly affected by Piper.

“Stay?” Liam has always had a calming effect on me.

He nods once then sits in T’s rocker, asking, “Want to talk about it?”

I swallow and shake my head.

“Okay, then.”

Piper’s giggle and footsteps break the deafening silence.

“Get back here, princess,” Dad says. I hear him running after her.

She runs in and stops at my feet. She holds up my sunglasses and, with her finger, motions to me to lean in. I do, and she puts them on my head and smiles.

“Sparkle for your big head.”

Dad and Liam both look at me. They look shocked, stunned, and I smile because she’s the absolute sweetest thing.

“My big head thanks you.” I lean down and kiss her cheek.

“Now kiss her.” She grins, pointing to Hope.

So I do.

I look over at Liam as Dad and Piper walk out of the nursery again. He still looks shocked.

“What?”

“She just told you that you have a big head.”

“If the crown fits …” I shrug. “She’s made this mess almost bearable.”

He smiles. “You’ve got this, Ava. I know it’s easier said than done, but you have to believe you do.”

I shake my head and shrug. “I have no idea what I am going to do without him, Liam. I love him so much, and he loved me just as much and for longer than I even knew.”

“I know, but you don’t have a choice, and if you did, I know you’d choose to heal for those babies. It’ll make up for the lag in your noticing his love.”

“I have no idea what God is thinking, but I am not this strong.”

“You are. You just have to allow yourself to believe it.” He stands. “You ready for the troops to arrive?”

“I need to feed her. Can you tell them I’ll be out when we’re done?”

“Of course.”

“Liam.”

He stops and turns around. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Breaking out of upstate and coming.”

He winks. “You wouldn’t answer my calls.”

“I wasn’t answering anyone’s.”

“I know, Ava.”

I wake up with Hope in my arms and Mom next to me, awake. Hope doesn’t sleep well in her bassinet and fusses. When she is on my belly, she sleeps like an angel, and she smells like T, which is the only reason I have been able to sleep.

Mom and Tessa take turns watching me sleep. I don’t mind it a bit. They are helping both Hope and me.

“You okay?” Mom asks, pushing my hair out of my face.

I nod. “I need to wake her up to feed her and get back to the hospital to feed Chance.”

“Your brother is there with him,” she says, trying like she has for two weeks to convince me that I should take just a day to sleep and let them take care of the babies.

“I know, but the doctors will be making rounds, and I want to be there.”

“His heart healed on its own. No more PDA. His NEC is gone—”

“But if it comes back, if he gets it again—”

“Ava, he won’t,” she says, trying to calm me.

I sit up and pull my shirt up. Then I take the pacifier out of Hope’s mouth.

“Sweet girl, wake up. You need to eat, and then you can sleep the day away.”

“We need to try to get her on a schedule. Her days and nights are confused.”

“So are mine, Mom. At least this way, she sleeps when I’m at the hospital with Chance, and she’s awake when I’m home.”

“But you need to take care of—”

“I’ve got it, Mom, and I appreciate the help, but if it’s too much for all of you, I’m sure I can manage.”

“Ava—”

“No, Mom. No.”

“Okay,” she sighs. “Okay.”

***

An hour later, I am in the SUV with Dad. Everyone else left last night.

Casey is home with Mom so Mom can sleep, and if Mom needs anything at the store, Casey can go for her or help out in any way she needs. I know they think it’s overkill, two people for one baby, but it’s what I need. It’s what Hope needs.

“How’re you feeling?” Dad asks.

“Like hell,” I admit for probably the first time.

“I know you don’t like the idea of moving back home, Ava, but as you can see, there is a much bigger support system there for you.”

“As much as I appreciate it, I’m staying here.”

“But—”

“Last night, I was able to hold Hope and not worry if shutting myself in the nursery was offending anyone. This morning, I walked through Thomas and my home after a shower and didn’t have to fully get dressed in order to move about. Today, I don’t have to worry about coming home and eating a much appreciated meal so that people know I am not a cold, cruel bitch, but I’m just not that hungry.”

“Ava, no one thinks you’re a bitch.”

“Well, here’s the deal. I am. I am bitter and angry and hurt, and I have not had a moment to grieve the loss of the man who was my everything. As soon as Chance comes home, I may be able to.”

“When he comes home, I’ll still be there.”

“No, Dad, you have a life to get back to.”

“You’re a mother now, Ava. Tell me how you would feel if they said that to you. Better yet, tell me if you’d listen.”

“I would.”

He doesn’t respond.

“And I have offended you,” I sigh. “See? God forbid—”

“Try to offend away, Ava. I’m still here.”

There is no sense in fighting with him. None. So I don’t.