“I get it, Ray. And I won’t be reckless. I promise,” I say, holding his gaze, which is intimidating the hell out of me, but I suck down that fear and hold it anyway, pushing on. “But just so you know…it’s not like Avery is just some girl to me. Your house…it was always more of a home to me than my own home. And Avery—she was a part of that. I might see her differently now, but I’ve always seen her. She’s always been home.”

Ray bites at his bottom lip, his eyes lowered and cautious. “Mason, I have always thought of you as a son. I hope you know that. And I’m glad that you feel that way about being here. But Avery has always seen you as more. I’m not naïve; I know when my daughter loves someone. You just make sure that if you decide to open that door—to her and Max—that you’re ready for everything on the other side.”

There’s nothing but silence after he speaks, and he doesn’t stick around long enough to hear any more of my thoughts. I know he’s not really interested. And I know that it would probably make Ray rest a lot easier if I put on the brakes, finished out this little stint here at home, and headed back out on the road, without starting something new with his daughter. And maybe my life would be a whole hell of a lot easier, too. But I’m starting to wonder if it would be worth it? Any of it? Without…her?

Chapter 12: Learning How to Do This

Avery

Everyone is looking at me like they all know. The girl in front of me in class kept turning around and smiling. I think she sensed my mood—I feel ridiculous that I thought last night was anything more than it was.

Before I woke up this morning, alone in Mason’s bed, I was dreaming. My subconscious actually went to the place where Mason and I are some happy couple, moving into our first house together, picking up Max from school together, going to the grocery store together. Then I woke up—alone. He didn’t even leave a note.

I thought about calling him. I programmed his number from my dad’s phone when I left this morning to take Max to school. I thought about calling him all the way to my class. Then I thought about calling him during my drive back to Max’s school. I’m still fuming, and the closer we get to Dusty’s, the more I want to take one of those golf clubs to his headlights—and then his head.

“Is Mason going to be at Grandpa’s?” Max asks from the backseat. His question has me so baffled—I almost drive off the road. Max doesn’t look forward to people. He looks forward to earning things, like game time or his next chocolate milk. He’s never once asked about seeing his grandpa or Claire. Why Mason? And of all days to ask, I swear he’s intuitive.

“I don’t know, Max. I think he has rehearsal with his band,” I say, secretly hoping Mason’s car is in the lot when we pull in—for Max’s sake, of course.

Max doesn’t respond, but instead, continues to move his finger around the iPad in the backseat. I’ve gotten used to the one-sided conversations with Max—once he gets the information he’s looking for, he’s done. It’s something we’re working on, closing out conversations and taking an interest in what other people have to say. I tell myself that’s why I’m about to ask him the question I’m about to ask.

“Why do you want to see Mason?” I ask, my eyes darting around the parking lot as we pull in. His car isn’t here. Damn.

Max doesn’t answer, which isn’t anything unusual, except usually he’s not answering my question about how he enjoyed class, or therapy, or a visit with one of his doctors. And I should care about those answers more than I do this one—but I don’t.

When I park, I take off my seatbelt and turn completely around in my seat so I can face Max. “Did you hear me, Max?” I ask, his eyes moving rapidly around the surface of the iPad, his body language completely tuning me out.

I put my hand on the screen to distract him, and he jerks it away, continuing to play whatever game he’s working on. I am walking a fine line right now, and I know I could have kicking and screaming in seconds if I’m not careful; I reach again for the iPad. I don’t block it, but I put a small amount of pressure on it with my finger, tilting it just enough to distract Max, and I ask him again.

“Max, you can keep playing this as soon as you answer my question. Why do you want to see Mason?” I ask, my breath held, and my inner voice praying he just answers. I can see his breathing picking up, and I can tell he’s frustrated. His finger keeps moving around the iPad, but I know he’s having a difficult time seeing the screen at the angle I have it. His frustration is building, and I’m about to give in…




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