Thawing Ava (17 page)

Ava slipped her hand over his. “Hey, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on please. I want to help you, and you clearly are struggling with yourself. Is it pregame-day jitters?”

“I need help, honey. I’m going out of my mind. I need to calm down, and I’m like a cat in a room filled with rocking chairs. I want a drink, to be in a bar with other drunk slobs and just not care. I…I want to lose myself in a meaningless fuck that won’t mean much come morning. I just—” His words trailed off.

“Okay, how about we start with some yoga? Then you can help me cook. I’m thinking steak with new potatoes and a side of…not sure.
Non
alcoholic beer, just one to take the edge off and give your taste buds what they crave without getting drunk. No masturbation or sex. You can use the frustration for the game. You’ll take a soak in the whirlpool tub, and then we’ll do some meditation, visualization of success before you hit the hay. No mindless TV. How’s that?” She turned into the apartment complex parking lot.

He mulled over her plan. “Doesn’t sound… I’m not sure.”

She unbuckled her belt, turned in her seat, grabbed his chin, and moved his head toward hers. Without a word she leaned forward and kissed him. A simple closemouthed kiss that banished his thoughts. He parted his lips, allowing her tongue access, but she didn’t take advantage of it. His hands scrabbled against the seat belt as he tried to get it unlocked. She pulled back just as the damn thing unlocked and the strap zipped up to hit him in the shoulder. Smooth move, Casanova, he admonished himself silently. With a smile she opened the door and got out. “Come on, Romeo. I’m hungry.”

She slammed the door shut as he unhooked himself from the safety belt, grabbed his bags, and got out of the car. Ava stood near the door, leaning against the frame, waiting for him, a cocksure smile on her face. Seeing that grin hit him square in the chest. So much support, so much comfort and warmth. In that moment he knew it was love. If he had any doubts before, they were erased. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“Hurry up, big boy. Let’s get you upstairs so you can stop thinking.” She slid the apartment guest card into the slot and opened the door.

He rushed toward her and caught the door before it slammed shut. Already his mind was a blank and his soul felt buoyed by her confidence in him. Before she opened the second door that led to the main lobby, he grabbed it and shut it, stopping her from walking through. “Thank you,” he blurted out.

She cocked her head to the side. “For what?”

“You look at me, and I see your confidence in me. You believe in me even though I’ve fucked up and in the past I’ve let the gossip rags have more stories than they needed. I just… Thank you for not judging me.” He bent down and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. Simple and sweet, undemanding, an expression of his appreciation. He pulled back and caressed her cheek with his fingertips, savoring the silken heat of her skin.

“Thank you for letting me into your life and not making a fuss. Now, upstairs with you. You need to start relaxing.” She turned the knob and yanked it open, grabbed his hand, and led him through the lobby. He didn’t think the walk would be anything special, so it was shock when a few people came up to him and shook his hand and wished him luck, gave him an encouraging word or just smiled at him. All he could do was smile and nod his head. There were no words to express how much it meant to him. The community was wishy-washy when it came to supporting the Prowlers.

Their fan base was small but passionate. Both Davis and James were trying to get more attention after the fiasco of the last investors, where they blew the money and left the team near broke. It warmed Brice’s heart to see such outreach. It made all the talks and interviews worth it. By the time he got into the elevator, he was close to tears for a new reason. Ava leaned over and wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his side and murmuring words he couldn’t understand. They got off on his floor and walked to his apartment. Ava opened the door and ushered him in. She got started on dinner, pulling out a steak that was already marinating. When the phone rang, he picked it up, avoiding the evil eye from Ava.

End it quick, then bath time
, she mouthed.

He nodded. “Hello?”

“Brice, sweetie, it’s Mom. We’ll be in town, in time for your game even. Already have tickets. We’ll see you for dinner afterward. Have to go. The plane is about to take off.” Marion Douglas hung up before he could respond.

He clicked the End button and just stood there. Frozen. His parents were coming to town, and they wanted to have dinner. Panic and dread filled him. His mother was a Christmas freak. Would they come here? He looked around the apartment. They needed more tinsel and lights and everything! “Ava, we have to decorate more. I need more balls and tinsel and lights, and shit, what else?”

His heart hammered in his chest. His hand shook as he tried to think past the fear of his mother’s face when she saw how simple everything was. “We need a tree!”

“Brice.” Ava’s voice snapped him out of his panic. “Go soak in the tub. I’ll do dinner. Afterward I’ll get more decorations, but you need to relax and de-stress. Off with you!”

Brice placed the phone in the charger and shuffled off, not wanting to defy her. She was right; he had a lot to concentrate on. Worry still nagged at him. This was the first time they’d ever expressed interest in having dinner with him when they were in town. Sure, they said they’d love to come, but that was when they were in a different state or country. He felt like a kid all over again hoping that this time his parents would stay. Nervous energy flitted through his body as his brain spewed out questions. Did they have enough time for a tree? Were the lots well stocked? Did they have any pine trees left? What about evergreen? Would his mother be okay with plastic or fake? As the water filled the tub, he stripped out of his clothes and tried to relax. This was the first time his parents would see his new place. He was nervous as hell to make sure things were right. Despite their absence in his life, he wanted to show them that he was doing just fine. The fear of failure lurked in the recesses of his mind as he remembered all the times they’d disappointed him. This was first time they were acting as if they were interested in his life. Emotion overwhelmed him.

The bathroom door opened, and Ava came in. She grabbed a small bottle of purple crystals, popped the top, and poured some in. “Lavender and sage bath salts. Don’t whine about it being too floral. It will help. I’ve called my mom. She will bring home some decorations. No worries, baby.” She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his shoulder before smacking him on the ass. “Now get in.”

The heat burned through his ass, lit up his nerve endings, his semihard cock filled with blood, and his balls grew heavy.
Fuck!
He looked back, but she’d already closed the door. Hmmm, maybe a spanking from her might not be so bad, but first she needed her spanking. He shook his head and stepped into the basin. “Fuck,” he groaned as the sole of his foot made contact with the water. Ignoring the pain, he stepped in fully and settled into the tub.

He rested his head against the lip and sighed. Tension began to float away as the heat soaked into his muscles. Christmas music floated from under the door. A smile tugged at his lips. He closed his eyes and tried to let go, stop worrying, stop thinking, and just feel. The doorbell sounded, followed by voices. The door shut again, and Brice drifted off to sleep.

* * * *

Ava tried not to fume as she paced in the hallway.

“We were waiting to disembark from the airport when we called. You’re his babysitter, yes? Your services are no longer needed. His parents are here to make sure he stays on the straight and narrow.” Marion Douglas peered at Ava as if she were a bug under a microscope. “You’re James and Josie Johnson’s adopted daughter. Davis is your natural brother.”

Ava pressed her lips together and tried to find a response that wouldn’t insult Brice’s mother. “Yes, my brother and I were adopted. Until my father tells me otherwise, I’m staying with Brice.”

Marion’s forehead creased. Annoyance flashed on her face. “I’m sure James will be understanding. We’ll be in town until the play-offs. You’re assistance isn’t needed or wanted here. As investors in this team, we have final say. I’ll see to it your things are sent to you at Josie’s home. Now please leave before I call security. I really don’t understand James’s thinking, having his vulnerable daughter—you have to be susceptible since you just left your fiancé—staying with a man who clearly needs more than just a babysitter to deal with his issues. Anyway, Merry Christmas. I’m sure your father will pay whatever is left on your salary, although if you think Brice or my husband and I will pay you, you are sadly mistaken.” She turned on her heel and left Ava in the hallway with only her jacket and anger for company.

Ava slipped her phone out of her pocket and dialed Davis’s number. Not since her childhood had anyone brought up the fact that she and Davis were adopted. James and Josie may be white and their only children black, but that didn’t matter. When her parents realized they wouldn’t be able to have children of their own, they hadn’t hesitated to adopt two children who needed love and a home. Close friends and family hadn’t made too much of a fuss. Josie had learned quickly how to deal with all issues that came with having African American children and, when stumped, turned to friends and professionals for advice.

In one conversation Marion Douglas had devalued Ava’s parents’ love and generosity. Ava slipped on her jacket and flexed her hands, resisting the urge to go back to Brice’s apartment and slap that woman silly. She couldn’t go home to her parents like this; Josie would have a fit and want to come over here.
What am I supposed to do now? How is Brice going to handle this? This is a clusterfuck.

Davis answered after several rings. “I hope you have a good reason for this. I was about to get a blowjob.”

“Brice’s parents just kicked me out of his apartment. You have to come get me before I go back there and kick her ass.” She got down to the lobby, only to be met by the apartment complex manager. “Davis, gotta go.” She hung up.

“I’m not giving you my guest pass,” she growled.

He held up his hands. “I’m here to thank you, Ms. Johnson. We wanted to give you a gift basket of chocolates for your work with Mr. Douglas. It’s been quieter since you’ve been here.” He gave her a small smile.

“Thanks.” She accepted the basket from the desk manager. “That bad?”

“Coming home drunk close to game time, fighting with paparazzi in front of the complex, fighting with staff, vomit in hallways and elevators, stairwells. So, yes, it was bad. In one week we’ve seen a massive improvement.” He took a step back. “We hope you stay.”

She did too but didn’t say it out loud. “I have to go. My brother is waiting for me.”

Moving around the manager, she rushed outside and prayed Davis had burned rubber and was there, waiting for her. He lived five minutes away, give or take the traffic. Thankfully, he was. She got into his car, stored the basket on the floor, and buckled up. “Drive before I go back in there.”

“Told Dad. He’s on the phone to them, but there’s very little he can do. The Douglases have invested a lot of money into the new team structure. I don’t know what he can do, but I can’t believe they’d disrupt Brice’s progress like this. Jesus, he’s going to freak out. What about your stuff?” Davis drove to the other side of town toward the residential part of Witch Fields.

“She said she’d send it to Mom. She brought up our being adopted. The team doesn’t have a problem with it, Brice doesn’t, why would she— I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. Off to Mom and Dad’s we go.” He drove in silence until they pulled up in front of their parents’ house.

Josie stood in the doorway waiting for them. “If I see that woman, I’m going to tear her hair out! How dare she just kick my daughter out like that, not even telling Brice!” Josie Johnson’s Georgia accent thickened as anger darkened her bright blue eyes. “Now both of you get in here before you catch your death of a cold. I have soup and sandwiches waiting for you in the kitchen.” She stepped back and allowed them entry before taking their coats.

“And pie?” Davis asked, ever hopeful.

“And pie,” Josie responded.

Heat pumped through the house like a welcoming hug. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla drifted on the air, reaching into her and untangling the knot in Ava’s chest. She was safe, home, and no one would hurt her. Marion’s words hit a mark she’d thought she’d buried a long time ago, reminding her of the hurt she’d thought she’d cast off as a child surrounded by people who didn’t understand. Her mother led them into the kitchen and sat them at the center island. Two plates, already fixed with food, sat ready for them to consume. As both siblings tucked in to eat, their mother took her place behind the counter.

“I can’t believe Marion of all people would act like that to you.” Josie shook her head.

Ava looked up. “What do you mean?”

Josie rested a hip against the counter. “Well, she’s not exactly the high-and-mighty socialite she wants everyone to think she is. I grew up with her. We’re from the same town. Her family was what you would call from the wrong side of the tracks. She was dirt-poor growing up. Her father worked three jobs to keep his family afloat, but they still had to collect welfare. Nothing wrong with that,” Josie said, pointing a wooden spoon at both her children. “Anyway, her mother didn’t work—she had severe depression—but they couldn’t afford to send her to a doctor or get her on meds, so she stayed home. There was also a baby brother, but I can’t remember his name. When Marion was around sixteen, her father just up and left. Some say he went away with a younger woman. So Marion took on the role of breadwinner. She went to school and worked afterward, almost didn’t graduate. When she was around eighteen, that’s when she met Carter, successful international lawyer, jet-setter, and ten years her senior.”

Ava wasn’t sure where this story was going, but she sat and ate and listened anyway.