Saving Avery (7 page)

Tomorrow is Friday, and I intend on inviting them both over for dinner. I want to meet Avery's husband and feel him out under my own terms. Then I'll decide where to proceed from there, although I have a feeling my decision might involve my fist meeting his face.

I watch as Avery slowly walks back to the house. Her gait is rigid and sluggish. She stops at the porch steps, and I can see the grimace on her face as she eases herself up onto the first step.

He hurt her again. I know he did. My hands curl onto the railing, my knuckles turning white from the tight grasp. I remember the fear in her eyes when she looked at the clock. She said she was going to be late again. I wonder if he punished her because of that or for another infraction. I feel horrible. I am the one who cornered her in the break room and then confronted her. I made her late.
It's my fault
.

Even though I want to yell out to her, I don't say a word. There must be a good reason for her not to seek help herself and for her to continue to stay with him. I'm going to bide my time until I can talk to her and figure out what needs to be done. And if I need to take matters into my own hands, then I will.

Avery eventually makes her way inside. I run a hand through my hair and look up at the twinkling stars littering the night sky. "Avery, I'm going to help you," I whisper. " I promise."

AVERY

As soon as I arrive home Friday afternoon, I start packing Nathan's suitcase while he jumps in the shower. My emotions are running high as I think about a week without him being here, a week for me to plan on leaving him.

My mind replays the day at the hospital as I fold clothes neatly on the bed. Max attempted several times to talk to me, but I ignored him as best I could. It's awkward between us now simply because he saw the bruises that I try so hard to keep hidden. He knows the truth or at least assumes to know what is going on in my life. And when he tried to bring it up today, I had to brush him off even though I didn't want to. He may think he can help, but he's wrong. No one understands the extent of my husband's power except for me. People that try to help me just end up getting hurt, and I won't let that happen to Max.

"Are you almost done?" Nathan calls from the bathroom. "I don't want to miss my flight."

Me either
, I think to myself. The punishment I received last night for being late is still fresh in my mind. The moment I walked through the door, Nathan grabbed me from behind and shoved me into the island in the middle of the kitchen. My ribs and right knee bore the brunt of the impact. He left me lying on the floor for a long time before he finally told me to get up and make him dinner.

The only thing that kept me sane last night was the fact that I knew he would be leaving the next day. Even though my knee and ribs are killing me, I am more than happy to pack his things. I walk around the room gingerly, favoring my right leg. It feels a lot better than it did last night, but it's still tender. I finish packing his dress shirts and zip up the suitcase. "It's all packed," I call back to him.

"Good," he says as he walks into the bedroom. He fixes his tie one last time before slipping his arms into his suit jacket and putting on a pair of shiny black shoes.

He looks at me for approval, and I give a slight nod and a phony smile. Nathan looks good in whatever he wears, but he looks best in a suit. My attractiveness to him, however, fizzled out long ago after I learned that his appearance is all smoke and mirrors, hiding the monster underneath. He may be handsome on the outside; but on the inside, he is repulsive in every way imaginable. He is a real-life monster in an expensive Armani suit.

Nathan turns to me and puts a finger under my chin, lifting my gaze to his. "Are you going to miss me?"

I nod once. He has a boyish grin on his face, and this is one of the rare moments when he reminds me of the man I fell in love with. At one time he was the sweetest guy on the planet, and I considered myself lucky to be called his girlfriend. And then he changed into a cruel, vindictive monster almost overnight. I think the darkness was always in him and hidden behind a carefully constructed façade, waiting for just the right moment to appear and lash out. I don't know if he actually realizes how much he hurts me and that he just doesn't care or if he's completely oblivious to my misery and pain. I may never know the truth.

He frowns and wipes a stray tear away that I didn't even realize had fallen. "Don't cry, Avery. You know I don't like that," he complains with a stern voice.

"I'm sorry," I mutter.

His smile slowly returns, and he kisses my forehead. "I'll be back before you know it."

I almost laugh at the notion that he thinks I'm upset because he's leaving. If he only knew that I'm upset because of the man he has become and for the longing of the man he used to be…or used to pretend to be.

Nathan steps back and grabs the suitcase handle. "Don't make me regret leaving you here alone," he warns before wheeling the case behind him out of the room.

When the front door closes behind him, I release a deep, shaky breath. I breathe in and out deeply, desperately trying to control my emotions. My ribs are killing me with every breath, but I don't care. A burst of joy escapes my lips before I can contain it. No rules, no stress, no abuse and no pretending for an entire week. I suddenly feel free…even if it's only temporary.

I have a lot planned for this week while he's gone. The first step is to meet with my father and tell him that I want a divorce from Nathan. I have hinted around to my father before about our marital troubles, but I have never used the
D
word. I'm sure my father will be upset. He likes to keep the image of the perfect, happy family for the press releases on his campaign trails. At this point, though, I don't care if it upsets him. I'm telling him how I feel, and that's final.

I have to wonder if Max has a little bit to do with my sudden need to escape. The feelings he stirred up made me realize that I can have more in life, that I want more in life. I could have a bright future, but I will never know just how bright while I'm stuck here under Nathan's thumb.

Grabbing the house phone from the charging dock, I carry it outside onto the deck. The afternoon sun beats down on my face, and I close my eyes and relish every second of it. I feel a sense of freedom already without the ever-demanding, oppressive presence of Nathan. For a week, the house will actually feel like a home instead of a prison, and I'm going to enjoy it immensely.

Smiling at the renewed energy coursing through me, my fingers press the numbers for my dad's cell phone. I walk down to the swimming pool on the lower level deck and wait for him to answer. He picks up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Dad."

"Avery. I haven't heard from you in a while, sweetheart. How you are you? How's Nathan?"

I cringe when he says
his
name. "Fine," I state simply. My voice is shaky as I ask, "Dad, do you think we could meet for lunch tomorrow?"

He hesitates, and I can hear papers shuffling in the background. He's checking his schedule, and it makes me roll my eyes. It's pretty sad that my own father has to pencil me into his life, but I should be used to it --- he's been penciling me into his life for the last twenty-three years. "Sure. That should be fine. I can move some things around," he mumbles. Then a little louder he asks, "How about noon at our usual place?"

Stepping to the edge of the porch, my hand wraps around the railing as I stare out over the water. "Sounds good, Dad." A flicker of movement to my right catches my eye, and I turn to see a man jogging. He's wearing navy blue shorts and a gray hoodie with an iPod strapped around his right biceps, the headphone wires bouncing as he runs. His legs are muscular and tan, and I can't help but wonder what the rest of him looks like under his clothes. The hood is pulled down low, shadowing his face, and he stares straight ahead, not noticing me at all.

"Listen, Dad, I'm going to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Bye, sweetheart."

I hang up the phone and stare at the mystery man, watching him attentively. I've never seen him before, and I wonder briefly if he realizes this is a private beach. To my surprise, he jogs past my house and up the porch steps next door. I thought the house was still empty. Maybe the real estate agent wasn't, in fact, staging it like I had thought. Maybe he's my new neighbor.

I can't seem to tear my gaze away from him as he jogs up the steps and stops on the deck. He raises his arms above his head, revealing a couple inches of rock hard abs, and a low groan escapes his lips as he stretches. The sound reverberates through me, and my lips part with a gasp. I've never been so turned on by a single sound before. Feeling instantly flushed, I watch intently as he leans down, stretching his fingertips down to each foot.

Our porches are only several yards apart, so I get a clear view of him. I can't help but stare. There's something about him that seems so familiar. And when he straightens and lowers his hood, my heart stutters. Max. His eyes lock with mine in surprise. He quickly reaches for the cord to his ear buds; and with a swift tug, they fall. "Avery. Hi."

My hand raises and does some sort of awkward wave. I am in complete shock that he's my new neighbor, but he doesn't seem all that surprised to see me. I wonder how long he's been living there and how long he's known I'm his neighbor. "Hello," I say, and it sounds like a throaty whisper. I quickly clear my throat and say, "Dr. Harrison. Hi."

"Please. Call me Max." He runs a hand through his sweat-slicked hair and flashes me a killer smile. My mouth goes dry. He is dangerously beautiful. "I wanted to tell you at the hospital that I moved in next door, but I didn't get the chance. You're always too busy running away from me," he says with a grin.

The realization slowly sinks in that the man who invades my thoughts and dreams is going to be less than a hundred feet away at all times. It was hard enough to ignore him at the hospital, and now he’s going to be running up and down the beach like a fitness model getting ready for a fashion shoot. I don’t know whether to be delighted or completely terrified. "So…you bought the place?" I ask in an attempt to act nonchalant even though I'm a nervous wreck on the inside.

"No. Just renting for the time being."

"You didn't have a few million lying around to buy it?" I joke. I'm surprised I'm being so casual with him. I spent the day ignoring him. But as long as he's acting friendly, I will too.

He chuckles. "No. My piggy bank doesn't hold that much, unfortunately."

I grin. Hot, nice, sweet
and
funny. I grimace inwardly. It's going to be so hard to keep ignoring him. I know I should turn around and go back inside, but my legs won't cooperate with my brain. I stay rooted where I am. There's one question that I need to ask and know the answer to. "When did you move in?"

After a brief hesitation, he answers, "Monday."

So he's been here all week. My stomach drops as I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. I wonder if he's seen me on the beach at night. I never noticed him watching me, but that doesn't mean he wasn't. Maybe that would explain his sudden interest in me. After all, seeing a woman bawling her eyes out on a beach every night would raise some suspicion.

He wipes some sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. I suddenly feel a little hot myself. I touch my fingertips to my cheeks, and I can feel the warmth there. His eyes are trained on me, and I suddenly feel uncomfortable under his dark gaze.

Clearing his throat, he says, "I thought I saw someone leaving your house a little bit ago. Was that your husband?"

I nod and try to keep a frown from appearing on my lips. I fail miserably. "Yes. Nathan. He has a medical conference in Seattle. He'll be gone for a week."

Max's brows quirk up. "I see. Well, I was going to invite you both over for dinner tonight." He shrugs and then says, "I guess now I'll just have to invite you."

Dinner. Alone. With Max. Nathan would kill me if he ever found out. I stare down at my knotted fingers and try to think of a quick, believable excuse.

Perhaps sensing my hesitation, Max quickly adds, "I'm not the best cook in the world, but I make a mean spaghetti."

My head snaps up. "Spaghetti? That's my favorite," I blurt out.

"Really? Well, I guess that means you can't refuse my invitation then."

Grinning, I reply, "Well, I could refuse…but I don't want to." I hear the words coming out of my mouth, but I can't believe I'm actually the one saying them. I didn't even know I remembered how to flirt. My brain seems hell-bent on tuning out my subconscious, which is the one and only thing that wants me to say no and realizes that this isn't a good idea.

His smile widens. "Okay. How about six o'clock?"

After hesitating for a few moments, I finally nod. "Sure."

"See you later then, Avery." He walks backwards toward the patio doors, his eyes never leaving mine until he disappears inside.

After he's gone, I turn and amble up the steps to my house. I put the phone back on the charging dock and collapse onto the couch in the living room.
What have I done?
I know I should have turned Max's invitation down. I also know I should probably feel guilty about having dinner with Max when my husband isn't home, but I don't. I actually feel excited and happy. And it's been so long since I've felt that way. Far too long.

*

It's almost five o'clock when I step out of the bathtub. I take my time blow-drying my hair and putting on makeup. I do my eye shadow a little darker than normal since I don't have Nathan here dictating over every choice I make. The smoky look really makes my blue-gray eyes pop, and I get a thrill from rebelling just a little. I finish the look off with a pale pink lipstick that has a hint of gloss in it. My lips look totally kissable, and I suddenly find myself fixated on whether Max will try to kiss me or not.

No. He was going to invite both Nathan and I over tonight, so clearly he has no romantic intentions. Whatever I think I’m feeling for him is probably all in my head. But fantasizing about being with him in another life, a happier life is better than facing my harsh reality.

Standing in the walk-in closet, I rummage through outfit after outfit trying to find the perfect thing to wear. I settle on a white, blue and gray tier sundress. It's a modest cut, fitted through the chest and waist and then flaring out to just below my knee. I walk over to the full-length mirror and frown. Dark bruises litter my skin. The worst is the large one, which is an angry shade of purple, covering my knee that is partially visible under the hem of the dress.