I finally dare to look over at Tristan. His expression is neutral, but I can tell he’s confused by the little boy I’m holding in my arms. Confused that him and I have chatted about a lot of things for weeks now, yet I never mentioned I had a son. I don’t blame him for being confused. In fact, he can be angry at me. I’ll understand. I just hope he doesn’t stay mad at me forever.

Understanding right then and there that Tristan is important enough that I don’t want him out of my life just yet, I return my attention to Nova and do something I never thought I’d do.

“The more the merrier,” I tell her. “You guys should totally come over.”

And just like that, my wall crumbles and collapses.

Chapter 30

Maybe I can sweat it out.

Tristan

She has a son. She’s had a son this entire time. She’s had a son this entire time and never said anything to me.

“I’m sure she had her reasons for not telling you,” Nova says as if she’s read my silence.

We’re in the car with the windows rolled down, the salty, muggy air filling up the cab as we drive back to the motel. In a couple of hours, we’re supposed to head over to Avery’s, and quite honestly, I’m terrified. Because she has a son.

The morning had already started out iffy when I’d tried to call my dad to talk to him about the Dylan thing, and he sent me to voicemail after two rings. I’ll admit it, I was hurt. Then I saw Avery at the store with a guy I thought was her boyfriend or something. Then I learned it was her brother, and that she has a son.

Holy shit. I have no clue what to do with this information.

“Honestly, I’m not really surprised,” Nova continues on as she flips the visor down to block the glare of the sun. “I mean, that she has a kid.”

“How the hell aren’t you surprised?” I gape at her from the backseat, flabbergasted. “She’s had a kid this entire time and never said anything about it.”

“Yeah, but there had to be a reason why we built that house for her,” she says, cranking down the volume of the stereo. “And there were a few times I wondered if maybe it’s because she has her own family.”

“Well, she should have said something.” I slump back against the hot leather seat and cross my arms. “I told her a lot of personal shit… and it makes me feel…”

“What?” Nova presses. “Because I’m dying to know what’s going on with you two.”

“I don’t know what I feel.” Which is kind of the truth. I feel so many things it’s difficult to decipher them all. Confusion. Hurt. Upset. Angry. Worthless, as if I wasn’t good enough for Avery to trust me with her private life. Then again, ex-druggie doesn’t really scream trust worthy.

Always the same.

Never going anywhere.

I wish I could be different.

Better.

I thought I was.

“I don’t necessarily agree with you two.” Quinton is the one to speak this time, and it’s a strangely rare occurrence, so it throws Nova and I off. Both our heads whip in his direction and he shrugs. “I mean, there’s just some things you can’t tell people sometimes, at least not in the beginning. And I’m sure Avery was just trying to protect her son until she got to know you enough to trust you. So you should be glad she invited you over today because it probably means she trusts you.”

Nova and I exchange a baffled glance in the rearview mirror.

“That’s very insightful,” she tells Quinton while tapping the brakes as she flips on the blinker to turn off the highway and into the motel parking lot. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess you had a son.”

Quinton shakes his head as he gazes out the side window at the trees and shrubbery bordering the road. “No, but back in the day, I was close with one of my aunts who was a single parent. She would always talk about how she’d never let the guys in her life know about her kid because she was worried they’d turn out bad or the relationship would end ugly and her daughter’s heart would get broken.”

It grows quiet as I let his words of wisdom sink in. He’s probably right. I have no right to be upset with Avery over this. But it’s still a lot to take in, confusing, mind-boggling. I’m not sure if I’m even good with kids or if I want to be, never really thought much about it. So what does that mean? That I should walk away?

But I don’t want to walk away.

I want her.

More than I’ve wanted anyone before.

I can’t give her up.

Give up what she’s given me.

“You know, I think that’s the most sentences you’ve ever said in a row,” I tell Quinton. Nova chokes on a laugh as she aligns the car with the front of our room and shuts off the engine.

“Ha, ha, you two f**kers are a riot,” he says, but he’s grinning as he hops out of the car.

Nova removes the keys from the ignition and opens the door. “You are going to go to her little party thing, right? Because I think I might not like you very much if you blow her off because she has a kid.”

“Wow, way to put it out there just how important I am to you.” I reach around the side of the seat to lift the lever.

“You are important,” Nova promises, meeting my gaze from over the roof of the car as she gets out. “But you’re important because you’re a nice guy, and if you blow off Avery because she’s a mom, then you’re not a nice guy anymore.” She shuts the door then starts around the car, swinging the grocery bag in her hand. “I’m not saying you have to date her or be her boyfriend. If you’re not up for the whole kid thing, then you’re not, but don’t just leave her hanging. And you can still be her friend. It’s what she wanted anyway, right?” With those final substantial words, she goes inside with Quinton, leaving me standing in the blaring heat by myself.

The land encompassing the motel is bare, the neighbors nowhere to be seen, but the door five spaces down from ours is a painful reminder of how unready I am for all of this, especially when the curtain draws back and Zedd peeks out the window. His eyes find me, and he crookedly grins as he draws a line across his neck with his finger.

Shaking my head, I inch closer to the door where I don’t have to look at him. I feel disappointed; not only in myself, but because of who I am. I wish I could be a better person, one who doesn’t have to stand around and question this—question what kind of person they are. One who doesn’t have a twisted past that still haunts him. If I was that kind of person, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be at Avery’s, talking, listening to her life, joking around with her, all of my favorite things.

“How can I do this when I can’t even take care of myself without someone helping me?” I mutter, turning to go inside.

When I enter the room, Nova and Quinton are laying out the food we bought at the deli. The room smells like barbeque sauce and cigarettes.

“Feeling better?” Nova asks as she sets three paper plates onto the table.

“No.” I unzip my duffel bag to get my running clothes out.

She opens a box of chicken and steam swirls out into the air. “Well, what can I do to help?”

Quinton chuckles under his breath. “Always wanting to help. You’re too sweet, Nova Reed.”

“Whatever. So are you.” She sticks her tongue out at him then looks expectantly at me.

I don’t know what to say to her, what will make me feel better.

“I just need to know I can do this,” I say lamely.

“Do what?” she asks, nibbling on the end of a chicken strip.

I shrug. “Be the kind of person that can handle all of this and be good at it.”

“Only you know the answer to that,” She places the chicken strip down on a plate. “But if you want my opinion, you’re a way better person than you used to be, and I think if you want to handle it, you can.”

“You’re a good person,” Quinton chimes as he peels off the top from a condiment of barbeque sauce and plops down in a chair. “The day on the roof proved that.”

The three of us grow quiet. I’m sure we’re all thinking about that life-changing day on the roof that feels ages ago.

“I need to clear my head,” I mumble, going into the bathroom to change into my running clothes, hoping that maybe I can run this out and figure out what to do.

Right and wrong.

Good and bad.

How can I tell the difference?

After I put on my sneakers, I hurry outside and jog down the road. The farther I get, the faster my legs carry me. Maybe I can sweat Avery out of my system. It’d be so much easier if I could. On the contrary, even when I’m breathless, soaking wet, and my lungs ache, I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to be with her. I quickly realize it’s going to take a lot more than running to forget about Avery.

But I’m not even sure that I want to.
Chapter 31

The best birthday ever.

Avery

“You’re going to chop off your finger if you keep attacking the tomatoes like that,” Jax advises me for the tenth time. “Seriously, Avery, you need to put the knife down.”

We’re in the kitchen, preparing to barbeque kabobs. It’s nearing time for Nova, Quinton, and Tristan to show up, and I’m basically waiting around to get the text that’ll say they’re not coming. It wouldn’t be the first time I got blown off for my birthday, and the fact that Tristan didn’t say anything at the grocery store leads me to believe he’s not coming. I shouldn’t care—if I’d followed my own rules, I wouldn’t care. But I broke every promise I made to myself that day after the fire, and now I’m in the exact same place I was two and a half years ago—caught up in a guy and allowing him to affect my emotions.

“Okay, give me the knife.” Jax steps up beside me, pries my hand from the knife, then sets it down on the cutting board next to a demolished pile of chopped up tomatoes. “No more cooking for you.”

“Give me something else to do, then,” I beg as I wipe the tomato juice off my hands with a paper towel.

“No way.” He shoos me away. “Not only is it your birthday, but you’re a sucky cook. Besides, I hate help when it comes to food. I’m a one man show.”

“But I need to do something,” I complain as I back toward the kitchen sink. “Otherwise, I’ll go crazy.” I turn on the faucet to wash my hands then dry them off with a towel.

“You need to relax.” Jax walks over to the cupboard below the sink to grab the trash bin. “They’ll show up. I promise.”

“Who said I was worried about that?”

“Me and these tomatoes.” He nods his head at the mush of tomatoes on the cutting board. “You butchered your worry out on them.” He peels off a paper towel from the roll and cleans up the mess off the counter and into the trash. Then he puts the trash away and returns to the bag of tomatoes and the knife. “I know you’re nervous”—he selects a tomato—“but everything will be fine.”

“Easy for you to say.” I sink down onto one of the barstools around the island. “I wasn’t ready to introduce Mason to them.”

“You mean Tristan?” He peers over his shoulder with accusation. “You know we can handle you having your own life, right? I have my own.” He stares out the window at the backyard where Mason is running around on the grass, kicking a ball. “Even Mason has his own life, in his own five-year-old way.”

I rest my chin on my hand. “Since when do you have a life? I’ve never even seen you go out on dates.”

“What do you think I do when I’m not here?” he asks, picking up the knife. “I go out on dates all the time and hang out with people at school. What do you think I was doing last Sunday when I left for the entire day? I just don’t do it a lot, because I don’t have time.”

Because he’s always helping me.

“You were out with a girl on Sunday?” I ask, elevating my head and my brows. “You should have said something. I wouldn’t have bugged you to pick up milk and stuff.” I shake my head, upset. “Why didn’t you say anything when you’re always bugging me to be more open?”

“Because I knew you would react this way, and it’s not a big deal. And neither is me being out on a date.” He starts slicing the tomato. “I’m eighteen years old. I need to go out, or I’ll get sexually frustrated like you are, but that doesn’t mean I feel like I need to tell you about every date so you can flip out and think you’re burdening me by letting me help you.”

I snatch a nearby dishrag and chuck it at him. “First off, I know you should be going out. And second, if you’re seeing someone, then I think I should meet her, even if it’s just casual. It’s my job as your sister to make sure she’s good enough for you.”

“When it gets serious, then you can meet her, but I don’t want to bring anyone into our lives until I know she’s a keeper.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do for years. But now people are coming in, just like that.”

“Do me a favor. Give it a try and see how today goes. You might be surprised. I have my fingers crossed that this Tristan guy will sweep you off your feet, and you’ll live happily ever after so I don’t have to worry about you turning into an old shrew with fifteen cats.”

“Happily ever afters don’t exist.” I push up from the stool. “And I wouldn’t have cats. I’m a dog person.”