Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
The elevator dings, and I step out, striding straight for her door. My pulse pounds harder with every step. And when I reach her condo, I knock. Firm, but not aggressive.
No answer.
I knock again, louder this time. Still nothing.
Fuck. I’m ten seconds away from ripping this fucking door off the hinges with my bare hands.
Pulling out my phone, I hit her name and press call. The phone rings, and I hear it—through the door. She’s inside. I know she is. The faint sound of her ringtone filters through, and then the sound of footsteps fills my ears before the ringtone cuts off abruptly. Like she’s grabbed it to silence it.
My anxiety wanes, but my jaw tightens.
I swear, I’m going to spank her pretty little ass so hard if she’s put me through all this just because she’s avoiding me.
“Avery, it’s me, babe. Open up,” I say, my voice steady but demanding.
Silence.
I lean my head against the door for a moment, closing my eyes and testing my well of patience. “Avery,” I call again, knocking one more time. “What’s wrong? I’m worried about you. Why didn’t you show up tonight?”
There’s a pause, and then, finally, her voice comes through, muffled by the door. “Trust me, Henry. You don’t want to know.”
I roll my eyes.
“You’re wrong,” I say, stepping closer to the door. “I do want to know. Talk to me.”
“Not this,” she says, her voice breaking and softening me entirely. She’s not just throwing a tantrum—she’s genuinely upset. “You don’t want to know this.”
“Avery,” I say softly, pressing my palm flat against the door. “Please, just open the door so we can talk. Whatever it is, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
For a moment, there’s only silence. Then I hear movement. Her footsteps, I think. My breath catches in my lungs. The sound of the lock clicking echoes in the hallway, and finally, the door opens just a crack. Enough for me to see her face.
Her eyes are red, her cheeks streaked with tears. She looks like she’s been crying for hours, and the sight of her like this nearly breaks me.
“Avery,” I breathe, stepping closer.
She doesn’t say anything. She just stands there, her hand on the edge of the door, staring at me with an expression that’s a mix of heartbreak and fear.
I take another step forward, my voice gentle. “Talk to me, Ave. Please.”
Her lips part like she wants to say something, but then she presses them together tightly and shakes her head.
I reach out, brushing my hand lightly against the edge of the door. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. Together.”
She looks down, her shoulders trembling, and after what feels like an eternity, she steps back, opening the door wider to let me in.
Step one accomplished. Step two, though? Seems like it might be harder.
Avery
Henry steps into my condo, and I close the door behind him, my hand trembling as I turn the lock. His beard is neat, his tan evening out beautifully, and his sweet blue eyes are bright with worry, looking every bit like the man who has completely consumed my thoughts for weeks now. His hands fist at his sides as he works to be calm for me, his hair just a little bit tousled from the frantic state I no doubt left him in by not showing up at his apartment at the agreed-upon time, and God…it’s all too much.
I feel like I’m going to break apart.
“Avery,” he says tenderly, taking a step toward me. His voice is gentle and soothing, but his unwavering patience only makes my heart race faster. I did this to him, and it all started the night I wouldn’t take no for an answer. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
I shake my head, stepping back, wrapping my arms around my body as if I can hold myself together if I squeeze tight enough. But bone and flesh don’t shatter like glass, and my arms aren’t glue. This problem is much bigger than that.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper. My voice cracks, and I hate it. It’s the opposite of everything I’ve prided myself on being for my entire life and unsurprisingly uncomfortable. Wearing someone else’s shoes is always tough when they aren’t the size you’re used to. “I…I can’t do this right now.”
“Can’t do what?” He takes another step forward, his hands reaching for me but stopping short when I jump startle, like he’s afraid I’ll bolt. “Avery, please. It’s me. Remember? The one person in the world who’s seen you at your most vulnerable and you the same for me. You can tell me anything, and not only that, if it’s got you this worried, you should. How else am I going to help?”
Tears blur my vision, and I press my hands to my face, trying to stop them, but it’s useless. The weight of everything is crashing down on me.