Tough to Love: Saving Avery (3 page)

I nodded.

“Let’s go eat.”

Following him into the diner, we were seated at a booth with a mini jukebox. I nervously flipped through the songs, not wanting to look into his eyes. I was afraid if I looked at him, I’d stare, unable to look away.

“What are you in the mood for?” He was glancing at the menu.

“I was thinking pancakes, maybe with some fruit on them.” I didn’t know what to talk about. I was afraid I’d ask all of the wrong questions, and honestly I was afraid what he’d ask me in return. We didn’t talk a lot at the bar.

“Sounds good,” he said folding his menu. When he waitress came and he placed his order, I was amazed. He ordered enough breakfast food and meats for an army of ten. I wondered where he put it, because he barely had an ounce of fat on him – that boy was solid.

He stood over six feet tall, was broad and strong, and from what I’d seen his arms w
ere massive. His thighs were thick and meaty in his jeans. If all of him was built that way, I was sure other areas would be large too. I felt dirty for having the last thought, and then slightly amused that I’d thought about a man’s penis for the first time in ages.

It’s not like I’d want to touch it, or let him touch me. As much as I found him attractive, I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. I didn’t trust anybody anymore. I’d talk with him, maybe give him a detail or two, but I’d never let him in. I knew that already. It wasn’t his
fault; my walls were too thick.

“So the Red Hawks,” I finally said.

A grin spread across his face, “I wondered how long it would take for you to say something.”

“I didn’t know until somebody saw you and commented.”

“You don’t watch football?”

“Not often,” I said, picking at the napkin and wringing it between my hands.

“It’s all new to me. I wasn’t supposed to go pro.”

“Why did you?”

“When they throw that kind of money at you, it’s hard to turn it down.”

“What were you going to do?”

“Business,” he said with little detail.

“Football is a little bit different.”

“They say I can throw a ball pretty good,” he grinned.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to leave Seattle. I have family there, or what’s left of it.”

I nodded; the word family still had a way of making my stomach sick.

“My sister talked me into taking the contract.”

“You had to be talked into it?”

“Life is more than what you do for a living,” he answered.

I was grateful when the food arrived. I guess the cook didn’t have a ton to do at this time of night, but at least it gave me something to focus on besides the insanely attractive man across from me. My body and mind were sending mixed signals. I was more than aware women throw themselves at men like Steel, but I didn’t have it in me anymore. I knew that as much as I was drawn to his good looks and his solid and strong body, my mind wouldn’t let me leisure in it. I don’t even know why I agreed to come here – this was a mistake.

The waitress dropped our plates off at the table, my pancakes, and his fifty versions of breakfast meats along with everything else on the menu. Both reaching for the syrup, our hands brushed against one another.

The electricity that ran through my body wasn’t grounded and buzzed through me wildly. Glancing up and pulling my hand back, “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“No, you go,” he said
. His eyes locked on me, those dark pools of liquid I could get lost in forever. His stare was intense, and told me he wanted to take me, possess me, and make me his own. Another day, another time, I’d probably let him – but those days were over. Nobody touches my body anymore.

I could feel his heated stare as I drizzled syrup over my food. Most people look away, break that tension, but he kept looking – he apparently wasn’t done yet. Flushed crimson filled my cheeks, feeling hi
s eyes on me.

“So, do you like Pennsylvania so far?”

“It’s fine. I’m still learning my way around, but don’t have much free time. When the season wraps, I’ll poke around more. The rest of the guys are fine, but I’m more of a loner.”

“I’ve never been to Seattle,” I said, pushing food around my plate. If I kept the conversation on him, he wouldn’t ask me questions I didn’t want to answer. I liked my
fortress; it kept me safe from feeling things.

“What’s your story?”

“My story,” I looked up, wondering what he wanted from me. “I’m just a girl, no fancy story for you.”

“There’s something in your eyes,” he said.

I wouldn’t look at him; he was reading me, trying to figure me out. I took another forkful of pancakes, and then declared I was finished.

“I’m not done,” he said, making it clear we weren’t leaving yet.

Sucking in my cheek, I turned away. “What do you want from me?”

“I want to get to know you. Is that such a horrible thing?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“I just want to know you.”

“Why?”

“There’s something I see in your eyes. It tells me I want to stick around a little longer and see who you are. And let’s not avoid the fact that you have an amazing body,” he grinned, “and are gorgeous.”

“I’m plain, average at most, and I’m not that hot. Surely, you’ve got groupies throwing themselves at you. Why waste your time on someone like me, or at a place like Phil’s?”

“I make my own choices.”

“Whatever. I’m not a choice.”

“You’re the only option I’m interested in right now,” he countered, refusing to look away.

“I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” I answered flatly. “And, I’m not looking for a good time. It seems our journey has ended.”

“It’s only beginning,” he answered in return.

I shook my head, he wasn’t getting it. Why did I even come out tonight, I should have said no like every other time he asked me.

“Steel, you seem like a nice enough guy, but I’m just not interested.”

“Why did you come out with me tonight?”

“Because you wouldn’t take no for an answer
,” I fibbed.

“That’s a lie.”

I looked away.

“You’re here because you want to be.”

Steel watched her squirm, and wasn’t sure why he was drawn to the dark haired girl. There was something vulnerable yet strong and guarded about her. He wanted to crack the hardened layer protecting her and see who was beneath it. Maybe she reminded him of his sister, or a friend back home, he wasn’t sure, he simply knew that for some reason he kept coming back to see her. He hadn’t intended on being drawn in, but when he saw her that night at the bar on Thanksgiving, something told him he needed more. She sat across from him, trying to be smaller, take up less space. She was almost shrinking before him. Why was she so uncomfortable?

“Can we go now,” I asked, seeing him lowering his fork. He’d consumed more calories in that one meal than I had all day.

“Yeah,” he said, putting his hand up to wave down the waitress. “Let me in,” he said quietly.

Biting my lip, I looked away. Why did he want in so badly? There was nothing left inside. I was a shell, and my insides were no more.

Climbing onto his bike, my body pressed to his, I didn’t feel the same things I did on the ride over. I was only uncomfortable and wanted to be as far away from him as I could get. I counted the seconds until he brought me home.

“You can drop me at the bar,” I said before we left.

He nodded, realizing I wasn’t taking him home. He didn’t realize the bar was my home, in some crappy, small room upstairs. He didn’t know I shared a bathroom with strangers, and that the sink was old and crusty, with a rust ring around it. He didn’t know that I pulled the covers over my head every night trying not to think about what my step-brother did to me, and he didn’t know that I stared at his picture for hours one night, wondering what it would be like to touch him – wishing I liked to be touched. I don’t – not anymore.

Pulling up to Phil’s, I climbed off of his bike. “Thanks for the food.”

“Sure thing,” he didn’t make a move. Maybe he finally took the hint.

“You can leave, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m waiting for you to get in your car,” he said frankly.

He didn’t realize I lived here. Do I get in my car, put on a show, pretend that I live somewhere else? Fuck that. “I’m home.”

“What?”

I pointed to one of the second floor windows above the bar. “That’s home.”

“Then I’ll walk you in,” he said turning off the engine.

“It’s not necessary. I’m fine.”

“I’ll walk you to our door,” he repeated.

Sighing, I shook my head. “Whatever floats your boat, you’re not coming in.”

“Understood.”

We went in the side entrance and climbed the stairs. The weathered wainscoting along the wall was in need of repair, and the white paint above it was now gray and brown from handprints, time, not being cleaned in ages, and the carpet on the stairs was covered in stains.

Embarrassed, I walked forward like I didn’t care or didn’t notice. I was certain he would.

“This is me,” I said, pointing to my door.

“Can I come in? I have to take a leak.”

Great, now I get to admit I don’t have a bathroom. “The bathroom’s over there,” I said pointing to the open door down the hall.

He stood waiting for me to open my door.

Unlocking the door, I went inside. Looking over my shoulder, he could see my mattress pushed in the corner, a beat up chest of drawers, shredded curtains and a blind with creased slats. It wasn’t pretty, but it was all I had.

“Happy now,” I was angry and ashamed. He wasn’t expecting this, but now he knows my truth. I live in some hole in the wall dump, and can barely afford this. I didn’t even have my own bathroom.

Only he wasn’t commenting, instead he was inspecting the lock on my door. “I’ll come back tomorrow and install a stronger lock. This won’t do.”

“I can take care of myself,” I said, resenting that he felt the need to play some superhero. “I don’t need your help.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow with a stronger lock,” he repeated. Apparently it wasn’t up for discussion.

With that he headed down the hallway to use the bathroom.

Knocking gently at my door, he opened it before leaving, “Goodnight, Avery.”

“Night,” I said, closing the door behind him. Locking it, I pressed by back to the door and slid to the floor. I was embarrassed by my living conditions. Crying, I let out the bits of ego that were squished. I didn’t have room for emotions, I’d finally shut them all out, and I didn’t need them creeping back in.

He came back with a lock, just as he’d stated. Not taking no for an answer, he installed it, double checking it, and then handed me the key. I wanted to thank him, but didn’t know how. I was ashamed of where I lived. It was still better than my parent’s house, but it wasn’t what he was expecting. I shouldn’t care, but I did.

Handing Avery the key, I couldn’t help but notice her shoulders. She pretended to be strong, this tough girl that could take care of herself, but she was scared. Something happened to her that forced up that wall. I saw a frail girl wanting to be strong, projecting with anger. I’d seen that in another girl I knew. I watched my sister become the shell of herself after he hurt her – that bastard, creep of a loser she once called a boyfriend. It took such a long time for her to come back to herself, the sweet, sophisticated girl I loved.

I pummeled him as close to death as I could get away with. I’d have killed him if she didn’t stop me. I let him live only so we could prosecute him, report him, and let them throw his sorry, rotten ass in jail. What he did to her, it makes my blood boil. No man, no god damn man has a right to take what isn’t theirs. And he crossed the line, forever scarring my sister.

Every man has a code of ethics and knows what crosses the line. He didn’t seem to
care – he just took what he wanted, demanded, and thought was his.
Fucking asshole
.

I wondered what kind of pain tore
Avery apart, shredded her hope and dreams, and caused her to accept living this way, lost and afraid. It would be easier to walk away, easier to pretend I never saw it, but I couldn’t. Something pulled me in, wanting to take care of her, tell her it would be okay and help her heal.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say I had an ulterior motive. She’s madly attractive, hot as hell with a body that screams for attention, but when it comes down to it, I want to see her smile. I want to see her face light up when she sees me, and know that I’m the one that put it on her face.

My sister, Lily, has a smile that reminds me of my mother. She’s the spitting image of Mom. She’s the reason I didn’t take the big scholarship and stayed in Seattle. She’s the reason I live and breathe. My little sister was the happiest, joyful soul I knew. Only when that loser took her in anger, she lost her spark, and I rarely saw her smile after that.