Out of the Blackness (12 page)
I look to Sam who encourages me by widening his eyes and nodding almost imperceptibly. My gaze flicks to Noah who waits patiently, not moving a muscle. I realize suddenly that I want this, too. Before I can change my mind, I nod and rush back inside the store, leaving the two big boys to figure out the logistics.
What have I done
, I wonder.
***
Sam won’t let it go. Every chance he gets, he brings up Noah Yates. He grins as I stutter and stumble uncontrollably at the mention of Noah's name. Sam’s not being mean, I know that much. He claims it’s cute. I’ve never once in my life been called cute. Well, not to my face. I remember that’s how Molly said Noah described me that first horrible day, but I’m sure that doesn’t count.
Finally I’ve had enough. I throw a pillow at Sam, who’s reclining on the other end of the couch. For all that it’s called a “throw’ pillow, it doesn’t sail through the air very majestically. Of course, that could be because I throw like a three-year-old, but still. No aerodynamics at all. Fortunately, with the element of surprise, one doesn’t need aerodynamics.
Sam peels the thing off his face and pretends to glare at me. “What was that for?”
“What is your obsession with Noah Yates?” I huff.
Sam quirks an eyebrow. “What’s yours?”
“I don’t have one.”
He chuckles. “Oh, but I think you do.”
“Seriously, what were you thinking inviting him here?”
“Avery, you were
giggling
when I found you with him. When’s the last time you giggled about anything?”
I shrug, my impatience rising at the implication. “I don’t know, last week?”
Sam rolls his eyes. “Try never in all the time I’ve known you. I didn’t even know you
could
giggle. I mean, I like to think I’m a pretty funny guy sometimes, and you’ve
never
giggled at anything I’ve ever said.”
“Maybe not to your face.”
“Exactly.”
I growl my frustration. “I can’t be his friend, Sam. He’s too big. Those muscles are designed to hurt people. I can’t do it.”
Sam sits up and runs a hand through my hair like I’m five years old again and grips my neck, bringing our foreheads together gently. “Of course you can be his friend. Haven’t you noticed the way he is around you? He gets it, without you ever saying a word. He knows you already.”
I pull back and shake my head, denying the truth I hear in Sam’s words. If I refuse to acknowledge it, it can remain unknown, right? “He doesn’t know a thing about me. He’s no different from any of the rest of them, except that he’ll hurt me worse than Tommy ever could, worse than—” My eyes drop to my lap as I finish the thought only in my head.
August. Worse than August.
“Or he could be the next best thing that ever happens to you.”
With a chilling certainty, I suddenly know what this is about. While terror gathers in my heart and tears pool behind my eyes, I look deep into Sam’s eyes. He stares back with a curious expression, but I see my answer there. He’s found his out.
Silently, I extricate myself from the couch and go to my room. Ignoring Sam’s calls, I quietly latch the door behind me. I sit on the bed and bring shaking hands to my face. Sam intends to pawn me off on Noah so he can marry Kira guilt-free. I take a shuddering breath and move to the sanctuary of the closet as the tears come violently.
“W
hy do you feel that way, Avery?”
Sam’s betrayal was so brutal it was all I could think about the entire weekend. After an extremely quiet two days around the apartment, it was the first thing I said to Dr. Moorhead when the session began.
My gaze flicks up to hers in disbelief. Did she not just hear me? “It’s—it’s obvious, isn’t it?”
She frowns. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”
I clasp my hands together in my lap again, the anxiety level rising as I think it through. It’s as clear as the freckles on my nose. Sam wants to marry Kira. He may not have said it in so many words, but they’ve been together so long it’s easy to see they belong together. The only stumbling block to that plan is me. Sam won’t want to leave me on my own unless he’s absolutely sure I can handle it, which is why I’m here talking about my life to a shrink like I’m some lab experiment. But just in case this therapy stuff doesn’t work out, he’ll need a backup plan. Enter Noah Yates, Knight in Pilling Plaid Cotton.
Somehow, Sam has got it in his mind that Noah can replace him, be the new fake big brother. Not only is that ridiculous, but, if I’m honest, it hurts like hell that Sam could discard me when he’s ready to move on.
I explain all this to Kendall and finish with the thought as it occurs to me. “The only difference between Sam and Mom is that Sam’s never hit me.”
“Don’t you think that’s unfair to Sam?”
I shake my head sharply. “No, it’s the exact same thing. Mom had to get rid of me so Carl would marry her. Sam has to so he can marry Kira.” The tears spring to my eyes as I realize that my entire relationship with Sam has been something completely different to him. Not all of it; not our time in state custody. Just the last couple of years since Kira came along and became his number one priority. Since then, he’s been trying to figure out how to get rid of me, just like Mom did.
I haven’t felt this kind of soul-ripping emotional agony since Joey died. Maybe now’s the time. Maybe it would be best for everyone if I just join Joey. That way Sam and Kira can have their life together without Sam worrying about me. And I’ll get to be with my best friend again. As for Noah, well, he won’t have to break my heart by breaking my bones.
Who am I kidding? I’ll never have the nerve to do what Joey did. I’m terrified of screwing it up. As much of a burden as I am to Sam now, I could never let him live with the guilt I know he’d feel if I botched a suicide—and I would; I screw up everything. Just my luck, I’d only be aware enough to know I failed and not be able to do anything about it.
But another thought skitters through my brain. I like Noah, I realize with some surprise. It’s rare that I allow someone to get close enough to form that much of an opinion about them. Usually people fit into one of two categories: those who terrify me or those who will only cause mild anxiety. Sam, Molly, Kira, and the K’s all fall into the third, exclusive category of people I like. Somehow Noah managed to cross the barrier from the terrify group into the like group.
“I would like to suggest you discuss this with Sam, Avery. Perhaps he has a different perspective on it. I’d venture to guess he thinks you building new friendships goes along with therapy, different but coordinating ways to help you become a healthier young man. If you don’t feel safe talking to him about it one-on-one, I’d be happy to invite him in so you can discuss it with me here.”
I scowl. “But he knows I don’t do friendships. Sam’s the only person I can really trust—and now I can’t even trust him!” I’m selectively leaving out Molly and the twins because they don’t count in this situation. I know I’m about to work myself into a genuine panic attack, but I can’t seem to pull myself back. I stare out the office window and think about air flowing over my bare skin, try to force myself to believe I’m free and fine. But I can feel the World’s Lumpiest Couch beneath me, the walls surrounding me. I close my eyes and breathe deeply for several minutes until the tide of panic seems to slowly recede.
I’m still keyed up and on the verge of completely losing control, but my grip on that control is stronger than it has been since I figured out Sam’s plan. For the very first time, I look Kendall Moorhead in the eyes—hers are hazel, too, I realize, but a pale imitation of Noah's—and force steel into my voice. “You have to help me, Kendall. I’m not going to let Sam pawn me off on Noah, but I can’t lean on Sam anymore either. I have to learn to cope on my own. I have to be strong enough.”
Kendall smiles slightly. “That’s always been the goal, Avery.” She turns to her desk and begins writing while talking. “Okay, I’m going to give you some homework to do over the holiday. Our next appointment is the twenty-eighth. That gives you nine days to complete it. Are you ready?”
I take a deep breath, silently ask Joey for help, and nod.
***
I’ve been trying to avoid Noah since Sam’s invitation five days ago. I’ve not taken my breaks outside, which irritates me because even if it is stupidly cold outside, it’s
outside
. Inside, I’ve been amazingly successful at dodging him. The three times I saw him in the store, I managed to hang back in the stockroom or break room until he left. I should have known he wouldn’t allow it for very long. The man’s like a bad rash or a dandelion—he just keeps popping up again and again.
Even as his business seems to be slowing because of the impending holiday, the bookstore gets busier and the demands of the customers grow more and more bizarre and esoteric. I’m dealing with one of our more eccentric regulars when the chime above the door sounds for the four thousandth time of the morning. Annoyed by the sound, I glance up from my conversation with the exasperating Mr. Warner to see Noah beaming a huge smile in my direction. I hear myself stumble over a few words and take a calming breath, trying in vain to put Noah Yates and his kissable lips out of my mind.
“As I was saying, Mr. Warner, the 1911
Encyclopaedia Britannica
is not something that is currently being published, nor is it something that anyone would just randomly turn in to us for our used book drive. I strongly suggest you contact collectable book dealers. You might even try eBay.”
The aged and increasingly senile Mr. Warner draws together his incredibly bushy white brows and frowns at me. “So when can you get the entire collection for me?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I won’t be able to get it for you.”
He narrows his rheumy eyes. “Then I want to speak to Molly. She’s a sensible girl. She’ll get it for me.”
I sigh. “Molly won’t be able to get it for you, either, sir.”
He bangs his cane against the counter before me and I flinch but stand my ground. I don’t have to be
too
fast to outrun a gimpy octogenarian, and I’m quite sure I can disarm him before he gets in more than one good strike. “I want Molly!” he demands brusquely.
Suddenly, he blinks at me and I recognize that he’s somehow come back to himself. “Well, young Avery.” He smiles widely. “How are you doing, young man?”
I cock my head at him as I return his smile. “I’m fine, Mr. Warner. How are you?”
He nods gamely. “Oh, fair to middlin’. Did you get that new Harry Potter book in yet?”
“That series ended already, sir, remember? Just seven books.”
“Oh, of course. In a book store, ask about a book. I meant the last movie.”
I smile. “Yes, sir. If you’ll wait right here one moment, I’ll go get it for you.”
Mr. Warner waves dismissively. “Nonsense, young man. I’ll just wander around a bit, maybe have a cup of coffee while I read a bit of my old friend Shakespeare. I’ll get the movie on my way out.”
“Make yourself at home, sir.” He hobbles slowly away and I smile after him, more than slightly confused with the interaction with him, as usual.
I look over to see Molly executing a very un-gothlike bounce-and-skip over to me, a huge grin parting her black-painted lips. Inwardly I groan, knowing the cause of that expression on her face could be none other than Noah Yates.
She drapes herself across the counter dramatically. “Your boyfriend’s here.”
I roll my eyes. “I saw him.”
Molly giggles—something else very un-gothlike. I wonder why she even keeps up the pretense. “So you admit you’re interested in him.”
“Give it up. It’ll never happen.”
She rolls onto her side to prop her head on her hand. “It could if you’d let it.”
I turn my gaze to my feet, not really interested in having the conversation, but knowing it has to happen sooner or later. “Molly, there’s absolutely nothing about me that would interest a man like Noah Yates. The only thing he could possibly want me for is a punching bag.”
“He’s not like that.”
I sigh but nod slightly. “No, he’s not. At least I don’t think so. But I can’t really take that chance, can I?”
Molly frowns and stands up straight. “Avery, you’re so wrong this time. I’m gonna get you to see it, I promise.”
“Please leave it,” I beg.
“Not a chance.” She swings her long skirt around her ankles girlishly and looks at me through heavily-gooped eyelashes. “It’s time for your lunch break. Noah's waiting for you to tell him it’s okay to join you.”
“
What?
” I squeak, feeling my heartbeat kick up.
“Don’t worry. I’ll hold your hand. Walter and Brian and Maya can handle the floor.”
I shake my head as the blood leaves it. It’s not that I’m afraid of Noah so much as that I’m afraid to be in that tiny room with him. Outside is fine. Even here on the sales floor is okay, if he keeps his distance. But that break room is so small—and Noah is going to take up so much space and air.
“Avery.” The low, soothing sound of his voice washes over me like warm water. “It’s okay. You know you don’t have anything to fear from me, don’t you?”
I nod. Somehow I believe it to be true, despite the voice in my head screaming about massive muscles and the sheer size of him. I mentally hush the frightened young boy in my brain and look up at Noah's chest. “Don’t you own any other shirts?” I snap, irritated more at myself than at him.
I can tell by the way he looks down at himself that my question took him by complete surprise. Then he laughs. “I have three exactly alike. They’re my favorites. Don’t you like them?”
They’re my favorite things he’s ever worn, aside from that one pair of jeans I absolutely will not think about. I take the chance on eye contact. His are literally sparkling with amusement and, for some reason, that irritates me even more. I shrug and look away. “They’re okay, I guess.”
He chuckles again. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you why I wear them so often. So what do you say? Lunch?”
My eyes track back to his and I see the hope in them. How ridiculous is that?
Hope for what?
I chide myself.
That you’ll break bread with him?