Chapters 4-6

Chapter 4

Avery

The sound of her phone ringing slowly broke through the fog of Avery’s dream. She groaned and pulled the blanket over her head. The ringing stopped and she sighed, only to curse herself for her optimism as it immediately started up again.

Not ready to get up yet, she rolled over in frustration. Unfortunately, she forgot that she had slept on her couch the night before. Her stomach dropped as she rolled off and landed in a tangled heap, her phone incessantly blaring a mere two inches from her face.

Avery finally opened her eyes and glared at the offending device. Muttered curses accompanied her struggling to untangle her legs from the blanket as she sat up against the couch. She sighed as she stared at her phone. Memories of the day before flashed through her mind, and she really didn’t want to deal with the aftermath right now.

But, you did promise to call Sherry in the morning, she reminded herself. She sighed as she glared at her phone, which had oddly gone silent already. The first thing she saw was a missed call from her mom, which she swiped away. Explained why it cut off so fast. Patience was not one of her mother’s virtues. Then there were calls from her Postmaster, Sherry, and a few unrecognized numbers. Standing up, she read through the rest of the notifications as she walked through her house and upstairs to the bathroom, managing to just avoid knocking her hip into the corner of the sink. She completed her normal morning ritual while scrolling through, clearing away missed calls from Sherry, her Postmaster, and a few numbers that weren’t saved.

Prioritizing comfort over appearance, she pulled out her favorite faded jeans and plain black tank top, then grabbed a t-shirt she’d gotten at a concert a few years ago. She debated on messing with her hair for all of two seconds before opting to pull it up in a simple ponytail at the top of her head. 

After she finished getting dressed, she pulled her belt out of the pants she wore the day before and put it on. She only then noticed that her cuts had started to bleed through the bandages she’d applied last night so she changed those too, grabbing some extra gauze and medical tape to throw in her purse downstairs. Looking over her reflection in the mirror, Avery shrugged and slid her phone into her back pocket. She went back downstairs to the kitchen, fished her wireless earbuds out of her purse and popped one in.

She hit number four on her speed dial and got to work making herself a bowl of cereal. Sherry picked up after the third ring and her shout of “FINALLY!” nearly made Avery drop the half gallon of milk as she went to pour it into her bowl.

“Hey, Sherry” she said as she put the milk away and sat down to eat.

“Avery! Holy shit, girl, you’re fucking famous!”

“Famous? The fuck do you mean, famous?” She asked as she chewed her food, not bothering to swallow first since it wasn’t like Sherry was actually there to see her talking with her mouth full.

“Exactly what I just said. You’re all over the TV. Your boss or postmaster or whoeverthehell up there told them your name and man, you’re like one of those hometown heroes now.” 

Avery groaned and set her spoon down. “I shouldn’t be. I didn’t get the guy out in time. The kid’s a goddamn orphan because I wasn’t fast enough” she said as she pushed her bowl away, her appetite suddenly gone.

“No, don’t even go there. You saved that boy’s life, and that’s what matters. I was gonna ask what the hell happened last night but honestly, with how many videos of it there are, I don’t need to.” She stopped and Avery heard an inhale, and guessed she was outside smoking either a cigarette or a joint. With Sherry, you never could tell. That girl liked her weed about as much as she liked her liquor, and she really liked her liquor.

“That’s fucking nuts. Explains the calls from random numbers, though. I guess I’ll check my voicemails when we hang up” she said, not that she really wanted to. Sure, being known could be fun and exciting, but she liked her privacy, and she really didn’t like being on camera. Jeesh. I can only imagine what I look like in those videos. Maybe it’s best if I don’t go find them. Fuck knows my self-esteem doesn’t need another hit, and everyone knows the camera adds ten pounds. Plus, I need to find out about Damian.

“Have you heard anything about the boy? I just woke up so I haven’t had a chance to call the hospital yet. I know he was pretty banged up but–”

Sherry cut her off, “Yeah, the boy’s fine. The reporter said he would be picked up today to go home with a foster family, they didn’t say who or what time, though.“ 

“Shit, okay. I’m gonna go return all these missed calls and then call the hospital to see if I can still make it up there to see him. It’s only 11:30, so hopefully he hasn’t been discharged yet.” Avery said as she got up to dump her now soggy cereal down the garbage disposal. 

“Alright, hon. Just let me know if you need anything. And if you get an offer for an interview, take it. Never know what doors it might open.”

Avery rolled her eyes, “We’ll see. You know I hate pictures, let alone being on camera” she reminded her friend.

“Well, it’s never a bad idea to get out of your comfort zone.” Sherry replied. “But, alright, and since I also know you’re gonna be calling your parents, tell your mom I said to fuck off and give your Dad my love.” Sherry snickered. 

Avery laughed as she washed the bowl and put it in the drainboard, “Yep, will do. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, love you girl. Let me know if you need anything.” 

“I will. Love you too, bye”

Avery double tapped the earbud to hang up as she leaned back against the counter. Famous? Me? What the hell am I supposed to do with that? She wondered. She pulled her phone from her back pocket and went back into the living room to sit at her desk. Deciding to get the annoying calls out of the way, she called her Postmaster first.

Thankfully, it was a short call. Keith just wanted to assure her that the higher ups wouldn’t be opposed to her taking a few interviews, and if she did, to wear something with their logo on it. Oh, and they granted her the next week off, paid, as a reward for her ‘heroic actions’. When she asked if that was why they had released her name without her permission, he brushed it off as an accidental slip of the tongue, which she knew was bullshit.

After she hung up that call, she hit her number two speed dial. Her dad was his usual boisterous self. He applauded her bravery and gushed about how proud he was of her, successfully making Avery uncomfortable and bashful under his praise. Talking to her mom however was a quick dunk into the ice bucket that was reality. She simply asked why Avery was still wearing ‘crazy colors’ in her hair at her age. As if expressing yourself through your appearance was something only teenagers could do. Avery rolled her eyes as her Dad took the phone back, saying he couldn’t wait to tell all his music buddies about his daughter, the bonafide hero. Avery just laughed and changed the subject to his old bandmates and how they were all getting on in their old age. She wrote down when his next gig was and vowed she’d make time to go, then begged off, promising to call if she decided to do any interviews.

Finally she went through and listened to her voicemails. A few voicemails about her extended car warranty, and two messages from two different local new stations. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to return either of those calls just yet.

Being the professional procrastinator that she was, instead she powered on her computer and went through her usual daily routine. Opting to ignore the multitude of social media messages from people she hadn’t spoken to in years, she debated on checking the Facebook marketplace for spare Jeep parts she knew she’d be needing soon, but figured she’d just do that later tonight.

Last, she checked her email. Right as she was about to delete all the ‘unread’ messages, the most recent one stuck out to her as different from the usual advertisement emails she received. It was from a weird email address, but she decided to click on it anyway. Her skin prickled in goosebumps as she read the message: 

Hello, Avery Clarke

You don’t know us, but we know you now. Thank your modern news stations for telling the world who their new ‘hometown hero’ is. Consider this a warning, if you enjoy your life as you now know it:  Do not contact the boy. Do not inquire about the boy. Do not even think about the boy. He is not your concern. Your interference will be forgiven this one time, as it was a byproduct of your ignorance. Further interference against the Demagerians will result in a swift and complete removal of the problem. You.

Enjoy your week off of work. We’ll be watching.

Demagerian High Council

Avery sat back as she stared at her screen. Right before her eyes, it flickered twice then went to the Blue Screen of Death. She rebooted the machine and pushed away from the desk. Her breath was coming in shallow pants as an unfamiliar panic that she couldn’t quite explain gripped her heart. It has to be a prank. That’s the only logical explanation she told herself as she paced her living room. Still, she couldn’t shake the bad feeling she’d gotten after reading the email. As her computer finally booted up, thankfully not back on the BSoD, she went back into her email to read the message again. Except the message wasn’t there. She checked her ‘trash’ and ‘spam’ folders, but still couldn’t find it.  

Making a decision, she pulled up a new tab in her browser and searched for ‘Demagerians’. That one word had stuck out to her but the results only pulled up a single entry, something in spanish that she couldn’t even read, she slammed her keyboard drawer shut in frustration

She ran her hands down her face, her mind filled with new worries. All she could think about was the less than accidental nature of the accident, the fact that whoever was driving that damn Ford purposely tried to hurt these people and she had no idea why. Regardless, there was never any excuse to hurt a damn kid.

Fuck this. I’m not letting some bored asshole keep me from doing what I want, she thought as she grabbed her phone and called the hospital.

It only took a minute to be transferred to the appropriate floor after she explained who she was and whom she was calling about. The nurse she spoke to eased her worry, saying that Damian wouldn’t be released for another few hours yet. 

With that, she threw her shoes on, pocketed her phone and grabbed her purse. She made a quick dash into the kitchen to grab her pistol and slide it into her pants, clipping it on her belt and pulling her t-shirt down over it. At the last second she opted to grab the lightest long sleeve sweater she owned, which was hanging by the door as she tended to wear it to work in the morning when the temperature was a bit cooler. As she left, she made sure to lock the house behind her, something she hadn’t done since her and Rylan bought the house three years ago. She couldn’t explain why she felt the sudden need to change her usual habits, but she rarely questioned her instincts.

Avery pulled into the second floor lobby parking lot. She grabbed the donuts she’d stopped at Krispy Kreme for and went inside. Her knowledge of the hospital kept her from having to ask for directions, and she followed the room numbers until she reached room 291. 

She heard laughter that was definitely from a child, accompanied by a certain “I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready!” in Spongebob’s classic nasal intonation. All thoughts of the creepy email fled from her mind as she smiled. She knocked lightly on the door frame. After a second she heard a shuffle and a soft “come in”.

Avery poked her head around the corner and smiled at Damian before walking in. When she saw him, the smile on her face became strained as she looked over the little boy. The upper part of the right side of his face was one big bruise, and she could see a bandage poking out from under his shaggy hair. He wore a sling, and as he tried to sit up, she saw him wince and hurried over to his side.

“Miss Avery! I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!” His smile was painfilled but genuine. She wasn’t sure if she should hug him or how to act here. They were basically strangers, and she didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.

“Well, I had to come by and see the toughest kid in the world. Plus, I accidentally ordered too many donuts and couldn’t think of anyone else I’d wanna share ‘em with.” she said while placing the box down on the portable table next to the bed. 

Damian’s eyes brightened as he looked at the box of donuts, and she opened it up for him to pick one. The smile on his face as he took that first bite of chocolate covered cream filled perfection was worth losing out on her favorite donut.

He gobbled the sweet treat like it was the best tasting thing in the world, which, she had to admit, Krispy Kreme’s donuts were on point and she was pretty sure the hospital food here hadn’t improved in the last few years. 

She poured him a cup of water from the pitcher sitting on the table. His small smile of thanks as he finished off the donut and took a gulp made her chest ache for reasons she couldn’t quite name. Sitting in the chair next to the bed, she grabbed a chocolate iced donut and started nibbling on it.

“So, how ya feeling, kiddo?” She asked, then immediately regretted it. How do you think he’s feeling? His Dad died, his Mom has been dead, he’s an orphan with a broken collarbone and apparently, no family to take him in. Great question, Avery, she berated herself.

He just smiled at her like her awkwardness around children didn’t bother him one bit. Which, was entirely possible she supposed. He leaned back against the raised bed with a small grimace. “I’m okay. They gave me some stuff to help with my shoulder hurting.” He paused for a minute before sighing, and she was again struck by the strange maturity of such a young child. “I saw the news earlier. Before the nurses came in and changed the channel and took the remote, anyway.” He cringed guiltily as he said that and she huffed a laugh before he continued. “I know you tried really hard to get my Dad, too. But, I’m glad that big guy pulled you back in time.” He sniffled some as he said this, and she smiled sadly and handed him a tissue.

“Damian, I can’t…” she paused, trying to gather her thoughts as she sat up, “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re feeling right now. Nobody can. But, I want you to know I’m here. I know I’m basically a stranger, but I’ll be here until I’m not a stranger anymore. The universe or something put me at the right place at the right time, and I usually don’t question the workings of the world, I just roll with it.” She reached out and grabbed his hand and he squeezed hers back, “I’m going to talk to the foster couple that’s coming today, and I’m going to make sure they have my number because if you need anything, I’ll do whatever I can to help. You are not alone, even if I know it feels that way right now.”

“Promise? I’m scared to go live with people I don’t know. What if they don’t like me? Where will they send me then?” His bottom lip quivered and her heart clenched in sympathy.

“Hey now, there’s no way they’re not going to like you. Heck, I just met you and I’m already your biggest fan.” she chucked him on the nose with her free hand, pulling a small smile out of him.

“Yeah, maybe…” he trailed off. They sat in silence for a minute, until she decided to ask him what he’d been doing to entertain himself today. The excitement on his face as he told her about finally being able to watch Spongebob Squarepants was infectious. Apparently, he never really watched much TV at home, since they didn’t have cable TV. They did have internet, though, and he had his very own computer that he was able to play some games like Roblox and Minecraft on, which he said he would much rather play those than just watch TV. As he talked, Avery sat back and got comfortable. When he started talking about his favorite Roblox game, there was a knock on the door and a young nurse poked her head.

“Hey, Damian, Mr. and Mrs. Suarez, the foster couple, just got here to pick you up. Is it okay if I send them in to meet you while I get the discharge paperwork ready?” the nurse’s voice was soft and calming, like she was worried about spooking the poor kid.

His eyes widened in surprise, “Already? I didn’t think they were coming until later today…” he trailed off and looked at Avery briefly before looking at the nurse again, “Is it okay if Miss Avery stays with me until I have to leave?”

The nurse, whose name Avery still didn’t know, smiled and nodded as she said “Of course, I’m sure they won’t mind at all. I’ll send them in now and get everything together.” Her head disappeared back behind the wall and the clicking sound of heels on linoleum grew closer.

A handsome young hispanic couple, who couldn’t have been older than their mid-thirties appeared in the doorway next. Avery couldn’t help but notice how perfectly polished they both were, not a hair was out of place and not a wrinkle in sight. The man was average height, about six foot, she would guess. He wore a light blue Polo Ralph Lauren shirt that contrasted nicely to his bronze skin tone, tucked into a pair of crisp beige business slacks, with a well-worn but clean pair of leather loafers. He was classically handsome, with thick black hair artfully tousled, and when he smiled, she could see a dimple peeking out of his left cheek that made him look friendly. 

The woman, however, was strikingly gorgeous. Ridiculously so. Like, she could have just walked off the cover of Cosmopolitan and Avery wouldn’t have been at all surprised. She wore a pair of crisp jeans tucked into knee-high, heeled, brown suede boots with this gorgeous silver top under a dark jean jacket. Her make-up was perfect, making her look flawless but somehow managing to not look overdone or fake, and Avery couldn’t quite figure out if her lashes were real or fake. Which either spoke to the quality of them if they were fake, or the woman’s genetic lottery win in having such fantastic lashes. 

Suddenly feeling self-conscious about her own appearance, especially the lack of any make-up whatsoever today, Avery found her cheeks warming in embarrassment as she grabbed a napkin and wiped some chocolate icing from her fingers before standing to greet them with a shy smile.

“Hey, Damian!” The woman beamed at him before turning to Avery. “And…You’re the woman that saved this little guy, aren’t you? Avery, I think they said on the news?” The woman’s voice was soft but throaty, with a faint Puerto Rican accent, reminding her of her old Spanish teacher in middle school, Senora Schwarzwalder, [BCE1] which is the only reason why she could pinpoint it. No, Schwarzwalder was not her maiden name. Apparently she’d married a German, but she swore her maiden name was even more difficult to spell, let alone pronounce.

Avery stood and pulled down her shirt self-consciously, fighting the sudden feeling of insecurity as she faced the handsome couple and held her hand out to shake with both of them in turn, surprised when they each returned firm handshakes, none of that limp wrist shit she never knew how to handle.

“Yeah, hi, I’m Avery. I just came by to visit Damian before he got discharged.” she said, shooting a smile toward the kid in question. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Suarez”.

The striking woman beamed at both of them, showing off a row of perfect teeth to go with her perfect, well, everything else. Avery really didn’t want to dislike this woman but she couldn’t help but question her authenticity. Nobody was that put together…were they? Or… maybe not everybody is as much of a mess as you are, eh? she chastised herself.

“Oh, none of that Mrs. Suarez nonsense. You can call me Del, short for Delfina. But only my parents call me by my full name.” She stage whispered the last part, like she’d known Avery for years and was sharing a conspiratory secret. “And this is my husband, Lucas.” She nodded to the man standing beside her. “We got the call last night about this little guy needing a family and we knew we had to do what we could.” 

She turned toward Damian with a sad smile, “I know losing your father is hard, and having to go with strangers so soon after doesn’t make anything any better. But,” She squatted down beside the bed and reached for Damian’s hand, smiling when he gave it to her, “you’re not alone. Anything you need to make this easier, to help you heal, we’ll do. We won’t be strangers for long.” 

Her husband walked up beside her, resting his hand on the back of her head with a sort of reverence, “Anything. We’re new to this foster parent thing, but we can’t have kids of our own. So, we’d like the opportunity to treat you like one of our own for as long as you’ll let us, if that’s okay with you?” His voice was also slightly accented, but not quite as noticeable as Del’s. His smile actually reached his eyes, and Avery felt like they were both sincere in their desire to take care of Damian, which put her mind at ease more than she expected.

She cleared her throat softly and Del stood up and looked towards her, but didn’t let go of Damian’s hand, “Can I speak to you for a moment?” She asked with a nod toward the doorway. Del nodded and they both left the room. She could hear Lucas ask Damian what his favorite food was, and she smiled as she turned to face the woman.

“I just wanted to ask if it was okay if I could give you my number so that I could stay in contact with Damian?” she asked softly, “It’s just that, he’s scared and, while I know I just met him myself yesterday, we seem to have a sort of connection, and I promised him I’d be there if he needed anything or anyone to talk to.” Avery ran a hand down her face before locking eyes with Del, “He’s a special kid, and while he seems exceptionally emotionally mature for his age, I’m worried that it’s just a front and it’ll crack when he moves into some place completely unfamiliar” she finished in a rush, somehow managing to not trip over her own words in her nervousness. 

Del just looked at her without saying anything, until a smile slowly formed on her face and she reached out and grabbed Avery’s hand, “That would be perfectly fine, Avery. We saw the videos. It only makes sense that you’d feel responsible for him now. Of course, you can stay in contact. We even got him his own phone already on our plan, which we can monitor, but he’ll be able to talk to you whenever he wants. We just want him to be happy and healthy, and if talking to you helps him get through this, I don’t see anything wrong with that at all.” she said, then pulled a phone out of the expensive looking purse hanging on her shoulder. Avery wasn’t good with name brands, but she could tell that it cost a pretty penny. 

“Here, go ahead and save your number in here and I’ll give it to him when we go back in” she handed the phone to Avery. As she typed in her number, the sound of footsteps approaching made her look up, and she hurriedly hit save right as the young nurse from earlier reached them.

The nurse, Kayla, according to her name tag, smiled at her as she handed Del the phone back. “Hey, Mrs. Suarez. So, we got all the paperwork completed. I just need to go over a few things with you if that’s okay?” She looked to Avery again, who suddenly felt like she was intruding.

“I’ll just go back in and hang out with Damian for a little bit so y’all can talk”  she said with a smile before she ducked back into the room, nearly running into Lucas who was…apparently showing Damian a cool magic trick with some sort of spongey ball. She stood there and watched for a minute as he placed a single ball into Damian’s hand and told him to close his fist tight around it. Then he performed some overly exaggerated hand movements around Damian’s fist, then told him to open his hand, palm side up. Damian did as he was told, and the look of shock and wonder on his face when he saw he was now holding one large and one small sponge ball was the cutest thing Avery had seen in awhile.

“Woah! That’s so cool!” Damian exclaimed as he picked up the new smaller ball with his other hand and squished it between his fingers as if to test the authenticity of the sponge. “How’d you do that, Lucas?”

“Pfffft” the man scoffed, “A magician never reveals his secrets” then he sat on the bed next to Damian and ruffled his hair, “but, maybe I’ll show you how it’s done when we get home, and then you can use that as a way to make friends in your new school, huh?” 

Damian grinned at that. He reached for his glass of water, finally noticing her standing to the side of the door. “Miss Avery! Did you see that cool magic trick Lucas just showed me?” The excitement on his face as he continued to squeeze the spongy balls in his hand was infectious. She couldn’t help but smile back, 

“Sure did! That was pretty awesome, Mr. Suarez. Maybe I should have you come to my niece’s birthday party next week.” She smiled at Lucas.

“Oh no, Miss Clarke. Unfortunately, I’m a one-trick pony. That’s just something my Dad showed me when I was a kid and it always seemed to cheer me up.” His voice, while soft, held a rough quality to it that paired nicely with his rolling accent. 

Right as she went to respond, Del walked back in the room with a smile on her face and a bag of clothes in her hand. “Hey, Damian! Looks like you finally get to come home with us. The nurses here washed the clothes you came in with, but if you don’t want to wear them, no worries. I’ll just send Lucas down to the gift store for a pair of sweats if you’d like.”

Damian sat up a little straighter and smiled tentatively, “No, the clothes I had are fine Mrs. Suarez. Thank you.” He moved to swing his feet off the bed, wincing when he jostled his arm. Avery moved to help him but Del beat her there, and suddenly she felt like her presence was entirely unnecessary. She hovered at the edge of the small group as Del helped Damian down from the bed. With nothing more than a look from his wife, Lucas grabbed the bundle of clothes and nudged Damian towards the bathroom. When the door locked, Del turned back to Avery.

“Thank you for everything, Avery. Truly. I promise, we’ll do our best to make him happy. As soon as we get home, I’ll give him his phone since I’m sure he’ll want to fill you in on everything.” She smiled as she patted her purse to emphasize her words. 

With a sigh she started to say something and froze as the door opened and Damian came out, closely followed by Lucas who had the used hospital gown in his hand, which he quickly tossed in the hamper a few feet from the bathroom door. Avery smiled and walked up to Damian, squatting down to be at eye level to him.

“Hey, kiddo. So, it looks like the Suarezes are ready to take you home. But, Del here saved my number in their phone, so you’ll be able to call or text me whenever you want, okay?” She rubbed his good arm, trying to convey a confidence she didn’t feel herself. “It’s also okay if you don’t want to talk to me. But, I figured, maybe it’d be nice to have a new friend?”

Damian smiled and hugged her with his good arm, and she shifted to avoid the one that was held immobile by the sling. “For sure! Thank you for saving me, Miss Avery. I promise I’ll call as soon as I can.” He leaned down and whispered, though she was sure the Suarezes could still hear him clearly, “Lucas says my room has a really cool loft bed with a slide! And he’s going to show me how to do that magic trick so I can make friends at school,” he smiled and she felt her heart clench, “I think everything is going to be alright. I don’t know why, but I just…know.” Then he hugged her again, and somehow she managed to hug him back without hurting him.

“You’re a strong kid, Damian. I think you’re right, and everything’s going to be just fine.”

Avery left the hospital room not long after that, while Del and Lucas were getting the final instructions for Damian’s follow-up care. Her phone started ringing as she made her way down the bland, sterile hallway with its basic pictures of fruit, sunsets, and beaches. She pulled it out but kept walking. She didn’t recognize the number, but debated on answering for a second, until she ran smack into what felt like a wall. She stumbled back, nearly landing on her ass and looked up just as her phone stopped vibrating in her hand. The neck she stared at was vibrating, and when she looked up a bit she realized that the man she had just ran into was holding in laughter as he reached out to steady her. 

“You’re definitely not a wall.” Was all that she could think to say, and she felt her cheeks warming in embarrassment. “I mean, shit. Sorry. My phone was ringing and I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

The man let out a huff of laughter at that, “Obviously. It’s all good, though. My ex always said talking to me was worse than trying to talk to a brick wall, so I guess I can understand the mix-up.” One side of his lips quirked up in what couldn’t quite be called a smile, but was definitely filled with humor, mostly at her expense. For some reason that didn’t really bother her though as she looked up into his eyes, shrouded under a Pittsburgh Pirates ball cap that made his dark blonde hair poke up around his ears in a pretty adorable way.

“Well, when you put it like that, I can definitely see the comparison.” she smiled, right as her phone started ringing again, showing the same number as before. “I’m sorry, apparently this is something important. Sorry again for..” she gestured, “ya know. Take care!” She moved around him and kept walking as she put the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“We told you to stay away from the boy” the words stopped her in her tracks, spoken by a voice that was pitched deep, but she couldn’t tell if it was really that deep or faked to try to scare her. 

“Who the fuck is this?”

“You know who this is, Avery Clarke. We warned you. The Demagerian High Council does not respond well to disobedience.”

“Fuck you and your High Council! I’m not stupid enough to fall for this childish bullshit. Consider this number blocked, asshole.” She hung up the phone, and after a few taps of her thumb, managed to find “block calls from this number” and switched that to on. As she started walking, she chose to pretend that her hands were shaking from her anger, not because she was actually afraid of that strange voice.

Chapter 5

Clayton

Clayton managed to keep his amusement contained as the lady walked around him and he continued looking for Damian’s room. That is, until he heard her ask who the fuck had called. Then he stopped to eavesdrop a bit while he bent down and pretended to tie his sneaker. He was a sucker for drama, but didn’t want to be obvious in his nosiness. When he heard her say “High Council” though, he froze. Standing again, he turned to look at the unassuming woman that had bumped into him less than a minute ago.

“Consider this number blocked, asshole.” He watched her walk away, only then noting the purple tips at the end of her ponytail. 

“Fuck.” That has to be the woman that saved Damian. How the fuck did they find her already? He thought, before nearly facepalming when he realized how well known that woman was right now thanks to the news outlets. He stepped to the side and leaned against the wall to tap out a quick text to Derek.

14:42: Avery’s here. Well, was. She left. But the High Council has been in contact. I don’t think she knows who they are, though. She just called whoever it was on the phone an asshole and blocked their number.

Derek 14:43: What the FUCK?! How do you know? You’re supposed to be trying to figure out where Damian is!

14:43: I am! She’s up here at the hospital! I overheard her on the phone after she literally ran right into me. I haven’t found Damian yet, but if she’s here then he must not be far. 

Derek 14:44: We’ll try to figure out what’s going on with her later. Please, just…find my son?

14:44 On it.

Right as he hit send, he heard a little kid’s voice and looked up, right at Damian, who was luckily looking up at the man next to him. He was holding the hand of a gorgeous Hispanic women, who looked down at him with a soft smile.

“I’m not really in the mood for ice cream, but thanks anyways Mr. Suarez. I’m kind of tired actually.”

“No problem, bud. We can just head home. And what did I say about that Mr. Suarez stuff?” The man said, his rough voice softened with the hint of a Spanish accent.

            “Sorry, Lucas. It’s just my Dad always taught me to address all adults as Mr. or Mrs…” he trailed off as Clayton kept his head bent down over his phone, using his hat to keep his face in shadow. He stayed there for a couple of minutes, pretending to type furiously at his phone until he saw them round the corner, moving out of sight. Then he let out a heavy sigh and actually started typing this time.

14:47 Damian’s leaving with a rich looking hispanic couple, last name Suarez, the husband’s first name is Lucas. Guessing they’re the fosters, didn’t catch any more than that.

Derek 14:48: It’s enough. It’ll have to be. We’ll find him. Don’t forget to stop by my place on the way back here, please.

Derek 14:48: Also…thank you.

14:48: Anytime. Text me a list of what you need me to grab.

With that, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and turned back the way he came. He debated whether he should try to follow the foster couple and figure out where they lived, but he didn’t think his sleuthing skills were advanced enough to be an effective tail. Plus, he figured with his luck they were probably parked in a completely different part of the parking garage.

He made it to his car without seeing them again, which seemed to support his assumption. As he shifted to back out of the parking spot, his phone dinged a message and he glanced at it to see the list that Derek had sent him. He put his phone back in its mount and headed towards Derek’s apartment.

He pulled up to the front door of the two-story house that was split into two separate apartments. The first floor was where Derek and Damian lived, it had two bedrooms, which was perfect for them. The house itself was pretty new, having only been built in the 1970s or so, and recently updated about a year before Derek moved in, so around four years ago. The bright, sky blue paint with the gray trim was an eyesore to Clayton, but it’s what made Derek choose the place. He said the blue and gray reminded him of Alexa’s eyes. Clayton could never quite understand why he’d want to constantly be reminded of what he’d lost, but everybody grieves in their own way, he supposed.

            Flicking on his hazard lights, he got out and grabbed the stack of folded boxes from the bed of his truck. Grabbing the mail out of the mailbox, he reached to the bottom for the spare key that Derek left there for Damian in case he wasn’t home when he got dropped off by the bus. He tucked the mail under his arm and unlocked the door. He left the front door open while he checked the list Derek had sent him.

“Black box on top of closet, clothes, some of Damian’s favorite toys, his baby blanket…” Clayton read the list to himself as he went. He put the boxes on the kitchen table, went to the junk drawer for some packing tape and got to work.

About two hours later, with a truck bed full of boxes and bags, he finally felt like he grabbed everything he knew his friend would want. Which was a lot more than the measly list Derek had sent him, but he didn’t care. Derek might not be worried about the sentimental stuff now, but after they got Damian back and they got settled again, he’d want them. So, Clayton took it upon himself to grab everything that he knew was important to the both of them. After all, he had a couple spare rooms in his house where he could keep everything until they could move it.

He locked up the house, put the key back in the mailbox and headed home.

When he pulled up to his house, he saw the light in the kitchen and knew Derek was stress cooking again. He’s not ashamed to admit that his stomach rumbled in anticipation for whatever deliciousness his friend was cooking up to work out his thoughts. Maybe he found the steaks that have been in my freezer for the past three weeks he found himself hoping. He hopped out and went to lift the door of his garage that he never really used, then pulled his truck in. Wouldn’t do to have all of Derek’s stuff robbed while they gorged themselves. Or rather, while he gorged himself and Derek brooded until Clayton bitched at him to eat something.

“I made steaks! And asparagus. And baked potatoes. And I have a pie ready to go in when the taters are done” Derek called out, scaring the shit out of Clayton as he juggled a box through the doorway.

“Damnit dude, how’d you even know I was inside ye—nevermind. Superhuman hearing and all that.” He shook his head as he walked into the dining room which was attached to the kitchen, placing the big box on the large, dark oak wood table that took up most of the space. “I got your black box and everything else you mentioned in this. But I also have a ton more shit in the back of my truck.” He held up his hand when Derek started protesting “Shut up, I know you dude. You only think you need your necessities until you’re moving into a new place and have no pictures or anything else that you care about. Don’t even worry about it, I have plenty of space for everything until you need it all. Which, from the looks of it, you’re gonna need some of the nice kitchen shit I grabbed if you’re going to be cooking like this every damn night.”

Derek looked at him and swallowed, turning back to the stove to flip the steak that was sizzling away in Clayton’s only cast-iron skillet. His gruff “Thanks, dude” was barely audible over the sound of the oil, and Clayton decided to ignore what sounded like a sniffle coming from his direction.

“So, what’s this about pie? Apple, or cherry?” He asked, as he went to the cupboard and started pulling down actual glass plates and cups for the first time in months. He didn’t think that paper plates would handle tonight’s dinner too well. “You know, I’m not gonna let you and Damian leave if you keep cooking like this. This shit is way better than my usual diet of pizza, wings, and burgers from the place around the corner. I actually can’t remember the last time I ate something green.” He said as he eyed the asparagus steaming in the pot at the back of the stove as if it might jump out and bite him.

“Don’t worry, Alexa taught me that anything can taste great with the right seasonings. Asparagus is great if you sautee it in some butter, garlic, salt and pepper. Shit tastes so good you won’t even know it’s good for you.” He pulled the steak from the pan and slapped it onto the plate Clayton had set out. “Don’t touch it for five minutes. Let it rest before you start gobblin’ like a starving heathen. Go get the bacon bits I saw in the pantry, the potatoes should be just about done too.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Clayton saluted him, smiling when Derek snorted at his stupidity. He went to grab the bacon bits as he heard Derek start searing the other steak. Throwing them on the counter, he went back to the garage. “Coke, Sprite, Dr. Pepper, or Orange Fanta?” he called out.

“Sprite!”

“Gotcha” he didn’t bother to yell, knowing Derek would hear him anyway. He grabbed a two liter of Sprite from the shelf by the door and went back to the kitchen. He filled both glasses with ice from the dispenser on the fridge and then filled them with Sprite, placing them on the table.

Derek pulled his steak from the pan and placed it on his plate, then went to work on the asparagus. He dumped all the steamed asparagus into the same pan he cooked the steak in, then added some butter, minced garlic, salt and pepper and stirred it around. Clayton just watched in fascination, wondering if something green that looked like a plant stem could really taste good. “Grab the potatoes out of the oven, will ya? There’s more butter on a plate in the microwave, and I think I saw sour cream in your fridge—”

“Nah, that’s dip I made.”

Derek huffed, “Of course it is. Anyway, I know there’s shredded cheese in the drawer and we got bacon so, we’re good. Just lay it all out on the table.”

By time Clayton finished that, the asparagus was done and Derek was using a pair of tongs to put a heaping pile on both their plates. They sat down and cut open their potatoes. Clayton opted for all of them. Butter went first, which he mashed into the softened potato, then cheese, and then a generous amount of bacon bits. It was a companionable silence as they ate. Clayton couldn’t hold in his blissful groan as he took a bite of steak, the savory flavor rolling over his tongue. He chewed slowly, drawing every last flavor from the perfectly cooked medium-rare hunk of beef. After a few bites, he finally tried a piece of asparagus and was so surprised by how flavorful it was that he ate what was on his plate then went back for more before he’d even finished his steak. The garlic, butter, salt and pepper mixed with the crisp freshness of the asparagus in a way that brought out all the flavors without any one of them being too overpowering. Neither of them said a word, the silence broken only by the sound of them chewing, their silverware clinking, and the occasional sigh of happiness from Clayton.

When they finished, Clayton loaded up the dishwasher and set it to run, until Derek asked where the cast-iron skillet was.

“The DISHWASHER?! You never wash a cast-iron skillet! What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“It’s a pan! Why wouldn’t you wash it?”

Which was not the right answer. At all. Derek let him know this with a swift smack to the back of his head, and a half hour lesson on how to properly clean and season a cast-iron skillet. Something that is apparently a big deal to anyone who cooks. Clayton thought it was all a bit much for a damn skillet, but whatever.

By time everything was cleaned up and put away, the oven timer went off, signaling that the pie was finally done. A real, homemade apple pie. As soon as the scent of apples and cinnamon drifted to him from the oven, Clayton felt like a kid again, thrown back in time to when he used to go over his Nanna’s and she would always have a freshly baked pie on the counter for him. He went to grab a knife and Derek physically pushed him into the living room.

“Nuh! Ya gotta let it cool, man. Or else the whole damn thing will fall apart.”

“The fact that you know that, hell that you even know how to bake a damn pie really makes me wonder about you, man. But, not enough to not take advantage of your skills. Blow on the damn thing or something, cause it smells amazing.”

“Yeah, yeah, patience is a damn virtue for a reason. Go grab a notebook and a pen, we got some shit to figure out, then we can have pie.”

Clayton went down the hall to his office and grabbed a legal pad and one of his favorite pens, then came back and sat at the table. He couldn’t help but stare longingly at the still steaming pie, and he groaned when Derek moved it out of his reach and back onto the counter.

“Fine” he grumbled, picking up the pen and tapping it on the table as he looked at Derek. “So, what’s your big plan to get out of this mess?”

Derek sighed as he sat down, running a hand through his thick brown hair as he looked at Clayton with swirling blue eyes devoid of hope. That wasn’t good. Derek always had a plan. A way out for him and Damian. Even when Alexa died, he hadn’t looked this down.

“That’s the problem.” Derek dropped his head into his hands, running his hands down his face as he looked back up at Clayton, “I don’t have one. I didn’t expect them to come after us like this. I knew they’d come eventually, but it’s not like I haven’t taken precautions to hide who and what I am. I changed our names when Damian was a baby and moved here. I don’t do anything to draw attention to myself. I just don’t get how they found me already. I should’ve had at least until Damian hit puberty. Hell, longer if he doesn’t come into any powers.”

“There’s no point in wondering why, what if, or what you should have or could have done. What matters is how we’re going to get little man back, and get you two somewhere safe.”

“Yeah, how are we just going to steal him from that foster couple? Speaking of, how the hell did they even find someone to foster him so fast? Doesn’t that shit usually take time? It’d be easier to get him if he went into a group home, cause kids disappear from those places all the damn time.”

“You’re not wrong there, but we gotta work with what we got. We’ll get him away from Mr. and Mrs. Hispanic Perfection, somehow. Let’s figure out what we know, and what we need to know.” he looked towards the counter again. “But, can we talk about all this with pie?”

For the next hour, Clayton told him about the Suarez’s, what they looked like, spoke like, and how Damian seemed to interact with them. He had only seen them for a moment, but it was enough for Derek to at least find them online, which Clayton easily confirmed. They even had a shared Facebook page, “Del and Luke Suarez.”

Clayton laughed when he saw that “So, who do you think cheated? Cause you know that’s the only reason most couples share a Facebook page.”

Derek just snorted and shook his head, writing down everything he was able to find about them. Apparently “Luke” owned a chiropractic office in Pittsburgh. Which, from the professional quality of his website and the fact that he was “Rated #1 in the Pittsburgh Tribune Review for best quality care,” seemed to be doing well. From the public pictures on their shared page, Del seemed to be a stay-at-home wife, but maybe they just weren’t very public about what she did for a living. A google search of their names didn’t really yield anything solid except Dr. Suarez’s accolades in the chiropractic field. His practice was established a few years ago but for being so new he didn’t seem to be hurting for clients at all, which struck Derek as odd, but he just made a small note about his seemingly instant success.

After they exhausted all their options, Clayton sat back, wiping the crumbs from his third piece of apple pie off his face. They had moved into the living room and Clayton sat in his favorite recliner, Derek seated a few feet away on the couch with the notebook on his lap, since he didn’t want Clayton to get food on the paper. 

“So, what about that Avery chick?” 

Derek let out a whoosh of breath, and Clayton couldn’t help but notice how his hand clenched around the pen he was twirling in his fingers. “What about her?”

“How are you going to get the High Council off her ass?”

“Why is that even my problem?”

“Are you seriously asking that, Derek?” Clayton stood up and walked his plate to the sink, breathing deeply to give himself time to compose his thoughts.

Derek joined him, carefully placing his plate on top of Clayton’s, “Yes, I’m seriously asking, Clayton. My only responsibility is to get Damian back and keep him safe.”

“The fuck it is, and you know it. Damian wouldn’t even be alive right now if not for her. She saved his life, and the fact that she was up at the hospital to see him today means that she feels responsible for the kid.”

“Her delusions of responsibility are not my concern! Damian is!”

“Bullshit. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have tensed up when I brought her up.” Clayton sat down at the kitchen table again, waiting until Derek plopped into the chair opposite of him. Clayton just leaned back, linking his fingers behind his head and crossing his ankles under the table, waiting for Derek to speak. He didn’t have to wait long.

“What do you expect me to do, Clayton? For all we know, you’re worried for nothing and they’ll leave her alone because she doesn’t know anything.”

“You know how unlikely that is. The High Council are a bunch of self-righteous pricks who will stop at absolutely nothing to see their will obeyed. They see nothing wrong with punishing humans for stumbling into their affairs and messing up the order they’ve so carefully crafted.” He sat forward, leaning his elbows on the table and shrugged, meeting Derek’s swirling blue eyes. Eyes that once scared him, but now represented the only real friend he ever had. “Unless, of course, everything you’ve told me about them is false.” Clayton hedged, knowing for a fact that it wasn’t. Otherwise Alexa would still be alive.

They sat in silence for awhile, and Clayton thought back to the day he was confronted with Derek’s otherness. 

Clayton was staying with Derek and Alexa in-between jobs. He’d just gotten laid off from the factory he had worked at since high school, and they had offered to let him sleep on their pull-out bed for a few months if he was willing to use his carpentry and dry-walling skills to help remodel the room they wanted to use as a nursery. Alexa was almost eight months pregnant with Damian at the time and they were worried about being able to afford a contractor. Unknown to Clayton at the time, all of Derek’s savings had been seized by the High Council when they found out he’d married a human. Turns out, before then, Derek was a secret millionaire. He’d had stocks and investments spread out in different accounts. Unfortunately the High Council had found out about them after they’d tortured his accountant to find out where he had fled to with his human wife. Derek had never lived rich, so when they used the couple thousand dollars in Alexa’s savings to put a down payment on a small fixer-upper in Bushwick, he’d never wondered why they chose such a rundown house in a bad neighborhood. They figured that being in a big city like Brooklyn, they’d be safe. It was more than six hours away from the High Council’s seat of operations in Pennsylvania, and they put the house in Alexa’s name just as an added precaution. But, none of that had mattered. 

One warm September day, Derek and Clayton had come home from the hardware store a few blocks away and saw the front door had been left open. It was just a crack, but even that was strange since Alexa never left the door unlocked, let alone visibly open. They’d only been gone for a half hour at most, just long enough to grab some more drywall screws and sandpaper. Derek had dropped the bag he’d been carrying and ran up the stairs, yelling for Alexa. Clayton couldn’t figure out why he was so panicked, figuring that Alexa’s pregnancy brain had contributed to her leaving the door open. Kind of like how she kept putting the peanut butter in the fridge even though she hated cold peanut butter. He picked up the bag Derek had dropped and followed him up the stairs at a more sedate pace, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of overprotective almost-Dads. As he reached the door, he heard a car engine rev behind him. A sleek black Camaro gunned its engine, burning tire as it pulled away from the curb, the backend fishtailing before settling, and the driver zipped up the road, driving way too fast for these suburban roads.

Then he heard Derek scream. It was a sound that he’d never forget. The soul crushing sound of utter loss and heartbreak. Clayton had dropped everything in his hands and ran up the last few cracked, concrete steps into the rundown brownstone. He skidded to a stop when the scene before him finally registered in his mind. Alexa was lying on the floor. Her face looked like she was sleeping but her neck had a jagged slash that looked like it went from ear to ear. The angle of her head didn’t look quite…right, though. Like it was tilted too far to the left, just slightly off center. Then Clayton saw that it wasn’t tilted, exactly. It was just misaligned. Like when you pull the head off a doll and try to pop it back on, but a piece of the plastic folds inside it and makes it sit crooked. Someone had cut off her head, but they’d tried to put it back into its proper position without taking the time to line everything up. The pool of blood beneath her was smaller than he thought it should have been, and smeared around her like someone had been kneeling in it. Which didn’t hit Clayton as odd until much later. She just looked peaceful, until he saw her stomach moving and he realized that the baby was still alive. 

Derek hadn’t even noticed yet. He had stopped screaming but now he was hunched over her head. Huge sobs were racking his body while he muttered something about a High Council and how they should have been safe and that he’d failed her. Shit that didn’t make any sense to Clayton, so he just ignored it. Seeing the baby still alive inside its dead mother shocked him into motion as an eerie calm took over him. He pulled out his phone and started calling 911 while he looked for the sharpest knife they had. He knew the baby wouldn’t make it if he waited for the ambulance to get there, with Alexa dead, the kid only had minutes before the lack of oxygen would kill him, too, and who knew how many of those had already passed. Clayton ran to the bathroom and grabbed rubbing alcohol to sanitize the knife. Though why he bothered, he didn’t really question until later. He knelt on the floor and shook his friend, who looked up at him just as the 911 operator came on the line. 

“Yes, I need an ambulance at–”

Derek snatched the phone out of his hand and crushed it in his fist, which didn’t catch his notice because Clayton was already staring at his eyes. Now, normally Derek’s eyes didn’t catch his attention. He might swing that way sometimes, but Derek had never done it for him. Right then, though, he just couldn’t look away. They looked like swirling maelstroms had come to life inside his irises, and the colors were bleeding out into the whites of his eyes. Blue chased gray which chased a darker blue in incredible circles that just shouldn’t have been possible. Derek blinked and looked down at the mangled metal and plastic in his hand.

“No ambulance. No cops. They can’t help us.”

His words brought Clayton’s senses back. “But your baby is still alive and I don’t know how to do a damn c-section!”

Finally, Derek looked at Alexa’s rounded belly. “He’s…he’s still alive?”

Clayton just grabbed the knife from where he’d dropped it on the floor next to him “Yes. I don’t know what you are, or who did this, but we are not losing this baby too. Now either help me get him out, or move over.”

Derek sobbed once before he pulled Alexa’s t-shirt up under her breasts and unbuttoned her pants to pull them down a few inches, making sure to maintain her modesty despite her no longer being alive to care. Clayton had tried to remember where his sister’s c-section scar was and just went for it. He slowly cut into Alexa’s lower abdomen horizontally, and the fact that she didn’t bleed like he knew she should have helped ensure a clean cut, and her still warm skin split easily under the sharp blade. Then he slid the knife vertically, just to give him more room to work with. He quickly pulled the flaps of skin and muscle apart, trying not to think about the fact that just a half hour ago she was sitting at the kitchen table busting his balls about losing a box of screws, and now he was pulling her skin apart like he used to butcher a deer in the woods back home. The baby kicked again and he focused on his task. The muscles inside looked pink, not red like he would have expected, but he tried not to focus on that. 

“I’m afraid of nicking the baby.” He turned to Derek, who was still sobbing next to him, running his fingers through Alexa’s hair over and over. 

“I trust you. A baby can survive a cut. He can’t survive without oxygen, though.”

Clayton nodded and put the knife to Alexa’s exposed uterus. He took a deep breath and made another long, horizontal incision. Fluids that he didn’t even want to figure out the names of gushed out, and he quickly reached his hand inside her womb. He felt the baby’s movements start to slow as he tried to grip the amniotic sac. Finally he managed to pinch it between his fingers and rip a decent sized hole in it, which made even more fluid run over his hands, causing his grip to become slippery. He pushed his hand into the hole and felt these little legs just kicking away. He grabbed them together and started pulling slowly. He hoped what they said about babies being insanely flexible at birth was true, because there was no way to be gentle as he pulled the baby from out of his mother’s body. Finally, the legs came free and he reached further up the baby’s tiny body, he pulled it’s arms down and pulled him the rest of the way out. 

Derek just stared at the little guy that was in Clayton’s hands as Clayton laid the baby on the floor. “Go get me a binder clip and a pair of scissors from the office. Now, Derek!”

While Derek scrambled to his feet and ran to the office, Clayton grabbed the dishrag from the stove next to him and started wiping at the now unmoving child. He was covered in goo and looked like a shriveled potato, but he was here, which meant he had a chance. 

Derek ran back into the kitchen and went to hand Clayton the scissors, but Clayton just held up the umbilical cord. He pointed to a spot about two inches from where it connected to the baby’s stomach, and Derek wordlessly cut the cord. Blood began leaking out of the cord and Clayton swore, “Fuck. Where’s that binder clip?” 

Derek handed it to him, and Clayton quickly doused it in rubbing alcohol before clipping it to the severed end of the cord that was still attached to the infant. Then he picked up the baby, put him against his shoulder and gave him a swift smack on the ass. Why? He wasn’t sure, he just knew he’d seen it done in some movie or another. Thanks to some unseen higher power, or maybe just straight up fucking luck…the baby took a deep breath and started wailing louder than should have been possible for his little lungs.

Clayton laughed, and then cried, and then laughed some more as he rocked the baby against him. He turned to Derek, “Take off your shirt.” Derek didn’t question, just did as he was told and Clayton promptly handed the baby over to his father.

“Babies need skin-to-skin contact. My sister told me all about how it helps with bonding with the parents or something. I’ll go get some warm rags while you get to know your son.”

Clayton clapped Derek on the shoulder and went to go get some kitchen rags from the linen closet. He filled a bowl with warm water while Derek sat on the floor and rocked his son. He went over to them and had Derek stretch the baby out so Clayton could get the rest of the gunk off of him.

“We’re going to need to find something better than a binder clip for his cord.”

“That’s fine, I’ll figure it out. I just…fuck. Thank you, Clayton.” Derek couldn’t stop gazing down at his newborn son with tear filled eyes. The baby had finally stopped crying and was just staring up at his father while he sucked on Derek’s pinky finger.

“Where’d you put the formula you guys bought? He’s probably hungry. And we really should take him somewhere to get him checked out. He’s more than a month premature, things might not be fully developed yet.”

Derek spread his hand over his son’s tiny torso, his big hand completely covering the baby from his neck almost to his knees. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply and then exhaled in a woosh as he looked up at Clayton. His eyes looked like they were full of electricity, but they quickly dulled back to that same swirling blue.

“He’s perfect. Everything’s working perfectly. Damian is strong, he’ll be fine. Though, you’re right in that he is hungry. Can you hold him while I make a bottle?”

He handed the baby back to Clayton, who took him into the living room to grab a blanket to wrap him in. It was the one Alexa had just made for his crib, and Clayton thought it was perfect. He went back to the kitchen, cradling the baby against his chest while humming softly.

“Damian, huh? Not a bad name for the kid.”

“Figured you’d like that. Don’t want to have two Clayton’s running around. Didn’t think you’d mind if I took your middle name, though.”

“Nah. I’m honored, man. Thank you.”

Derek had just met his eyes silently while shaking the bottle he’d just made. Clayton handed the baby back to him and went to grab a sheet from the hallway closet. After he covered Alexa’s body, he turned back to Derek.

“So, you want to explain to me what the fuck is going on?”

            Clayton sighed as he came back to the present. The next four hours were spent by Derek explaining everything about what he was, where he came from, and why his wife had just been murdered and yet he wasn’t going to call the cops. Clayton learned about things no human knew about, except those that were owned by the Demagerians. He’d learned that Alexa had known since highschool. She’d walked in on Derek healing his own broken arm in the empty girl’s locker room after football practice. Derek had fell in love with her when she’d bitched him out for acting like a doctor when he had no real knowledge of the human body, which had made him laugh. Derek had shown Clayton pictures of his childhood that contained things that shouldn’t have been scientifically possible. Kids flying through the air and throwing boulders at abandoned train cars. Shit that he called “normal teenage shenanigans.” Clayton had downed a bottle of vodka, then woken up the next morning thinking it was all a dream until he heard a baby crying down the hall. 

            That had been ten years ago, and Clayton had stuck with Derek through it all. He’d helped him bury Alexa in the middle of the woods in upstate New York. He’d vetoed various ridiculous names that Derek had considered for his new identity. Then he’d helped him relocate back to Pennsylvania so that Clayton could help with Damian and so Derek could try to keep an eye on the High Council. They didn’t know that Damian had survived, and Derek had more connections back home than he did in New York. Plus, everything was cheaper there. 

Clayton looked over at his friend, “We both know what they’re capable of. Avery doesn’t. We can’t just leave her to fend for herself. If you won’t do something to protect her, then I will.”

“Goddamnit.”

Chapter 6

Avery

 “I just…I don’t know, honestly. There’s just something off about them.” Avery was telling Sherry. She was avoiding eye contact, pretending to be engrossed in picking the chipped wood of the worn down bartop. Seeing the bandages on her arms made her sigh and she rubbed the tape over the gauze self consciously. Grabbing her glass, she went to take a sip and frowned, finding it empty. She waved the bartender over, sliding her glass towards the edge for a refill. With a deep breath, she finally turned to meet her friend’s eyes. “It’s like…they’re just too perfect, you know? Especially for people around here. Where the hell did they even come from? What if they’re like, involved in human trafficking or some shit? Damian is a cute little kid, I bet he’d fetch a helluva hefty price in those circles, and then, what? That’s damn near worse than if I’d just let him get blown to pieces! And their shoes! They were so damn…shiny! No scuffs, no dirt, nothin’! That just screams nefarious deeds right there, I’ve never seen anyone in this town with–”

“More of the same?” a feminine voice interrupted her tirade.

She looked up and smiled at the bartender, grateful for a reason to stop the word vomit currently erupting from her mouth. “Can I get a shot of José?” Practically yelling just to be heard over the band playing in the far corner of the bar, she looked at Sherry’s empty glass. “Make that two, and two long islands, please” She went to push some cash towards the edge, but Sherry’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“I’ll get these ones, sug. Go get some change so we can put some quarters up at one of these pool tables, I’ve been itchin’ for a rematch after that ass whoopin’ you gave me last time and apparently you need a distraction from these crazy ass thoughts.” Sherry pulled some crumpled bills out of her bra and handed a few to the bartender, who looked none too keen to accept them. “While we wait for one to open up, you can tell me more about Mr. and Mrs. Perfect.”

Avery laughed and nodded. She dug some ones out of her pocket and made her way through the dim, smoke laden room to the change machine that sat next to a vintage style cigarette dispenser. The Watering Hole was a small bar, especially compared to the places just a half hour away in Pittsburgh. But Avery had fallen in love with the ambience and easy going nature of the crowd that frequented the place. Most of the regulars were just working folks like herself who liked to let loose every now and then with some cheap liquor and rock and roll music. The fact that the place always managed to score some decent local bands on the weekends made sure that it was always pretty packed.

She got two dollars in quarters and went over to place a couple on the pool table closest to their seats, where two good looking guys who looked to be around her age were wrapping up a game. She tapped the taller of the two on the shoulder and he turned towards her, “Is it alright if my friend and I get next game?” She clinked the change together in her hand nervously. The guy looked her up and down with an appreciative gleam in his eyes, until they fell on the bandages liberally covering her forearms and his face became pensive. Despite that, she braced for the usual crass comments that her and Sherry tended to get when they had a girls’ night out. 

            “Why, sure, girly. Do you need me to show y’all how to play? I’d definitely be willing to give you a few shooting tips.” 

            “Thanks, but I think we’ll be alright,” Avery tucked her loose hair behind her ear, avoiding eye contact with the man, who chuckled at her nervousness. The laugh faded quickly as she watched his eyes catch on her heavily bandaged arms with a question in them.

            “Now now, no need to get all bashful, miss. I didn’t mean anything by that. Lemme just finish kickin’ my friend’s ass right quick and then the table is all yours.” He went to turn towards the table right as his friend came up.

            “Who’s kicking who’s ass now, Clayton? Pretty sure I just mopped the floor with you.”

            Avery looked up at the deep timbre and her blood froze as her eyes fell on a hauntingly familiar face, “It’s…” she almost said ‘you’, but there’s no way she was looking at the same man. Absolutely impossible, since she saw that man die. She trembled as she blinked away the memory of the car erupting into flames. Must just look like him. He probably doesn’t even have blue eyes, not that there’s even enough light in here to tell she told herself, breathing slowly to calm her now racing heartbeat. Damian’s Dad is dead. This good-looking stranger is just that, a stranger. Not the dead come to life, you idiot. Plus his hair is way shorter than dead guy’s was.

            The man’s eyes widened minutely for a second before relaxing into a calm friendliness that further eased her mind, and she wondered if she’d imagined the fleeting look of surprise she thought she’d seen.

            “It’s what, ma’am?” the new stranger asked.

            “Oh, it’s nothing. I just thought you looked like someone for a second” she shook her head, “But, well…let’s just say that would be impossible. Like, completely impossible because he died. Ignore me, apparently my tolerance isn’t as good as it used to be. I haven’t drank in months and my friend said after the last few days I was due for some forgetfulness and apparently that also includes forgetting a verbal filter because I just won’t shut up, will I?” the rapid fire words spilled out, ending in an embarrassed chuckle as she started backing away from the two. “I’m just gonna go get…”

            “Hey, hold on,” the shorter of the two, Clayton, stopped her with a hand on her forearm that made her hiss and jerk away. “Shit, I’m sorry. But, fuck, you’re that lady we saw on the news! The mail carrier who saved that boy…Avery? That’s your name, right?” She nodded in answer, “Well, shit. I agree with your friend that you definitely deserved a night out. Matter of fact, why don’t you let me and my friend buy you guys your next drink?”

            “Oh, no, it’s fine. Thank you, though. Really. I’m just gonna go get my friend so we can play before someone else grabs the table” she stammered, backing away faster, as she turned she thought she saw Clayton elbow his friend, but she may have been mistaken.

            You should have known someone would recognize you, she berated herself. Sighing, she grabbed her drink and downed two quick gulps before tapping Sherry on the shoulder to pull her attention from the phone she was currently glaring at. “Table’s ours, whenever you’re ready.” She grabbed the shot glass that was waiting for her. “Everything okay?”  she asked, desperate to focus on anything except her memories.

            “Yeah, Jake’s just being a dick,” Sherry sighed, grabbing her own shot glass. They clinked glasses and downed their respective shots. Avery chased hers with another sip of her Long Island Iced Tea, Sherry just grimaced and set the shot glass down on the edge of the bar.

            “Well, wasn’t that why you broke up with him? Why are you even talking to him, again?” 

            Sherry smirked up at her, “Why do you think? Need somebody to warm my bed tonight.:”

            “That’s what–”

            “Somebody besides Sugar. Preferably without so much fur. And only two legs. Anywho,” she flipped her hair back, “we good?”

            “Mhmm” Avery grabbed her purse and walked over to a booth along the wall next to the table.She looked around for the two guys and saw them sitting at a table on the other side of the bar, heads bent together in conversation. The common-face guy, who’s name she didn’t catch, stood up suddenly and slammed his beer bottle down before heading to the restroom. Curious about what had him all pissed all of a sudden, she tripped over an uneven floorboard and almost toppled into the rack of pool sticks. She looked back up towards their table and saw Clayton covering his mouth with his hand and knew he’d witnessed her bout of clumsiness. Sighing, she grabbed the two best looking sticks and headed back over to Sherry.

            “Which one ya want?”

            “The black one. Duh. It matches my soul.” her friend quipped as she slid two quarters into the slot and pushed the lever to release the balls.

            Avery snorted and handed her the sticks, then went to rack up. 

            Since Avery racked, Sherry broke and from then it was just a matter of time until Avery cleared the table, even despite Sherry’s best efforts to distract her when she went to shoot. Growing up, Avery had hung around a lot of bars just like this one with her Dad. Only good thing about living in a bit of a po-dunk town. As long as you aren’t trying to drink, they don’t give a rat’s ass if you hang out or shoot some pool. Being at the bar beat being stuck home with her Mom, so every night her Dad’s band had a gig she’d tag along, help unload the equipment, and her Dad would give her twenty dollars to cash into change and she’d commandeer a pool table until someone else wanted to play. Then she’d order a pizza or some fries with whatever she had left and watch the drunks shoot pool. Watching is how she learned how to play. But just playing around is how she learned to shoot.

            “Eight ball, corner pocket.” she said as she lined up her shot.

            “There’s no way.”

            The voice startled her and she looked up, right into a pair of bright blue eyes, the color now obvious in the brightness of the pool table light she was currently hunched over. She jerked up, cracking her stick against the light and setting it to swinging. The eerie stranger reached a hand up and stopped the momentum as he stared at her, she’d almost say sadly, but that didn’t make any sense. Why would a stranger look at her sadly?

            “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” he scratched his head while staring at the table, “But, that’d be a hard shot for even me to make, and I’m pretty decent.”

            Avery snorted, “Well then, I guess I’m better,” she said as she took aim again. The crack of the stick against the cue ball seemed loud, and she stood up as the cue ball shot across the table, ricocheted off the right-side wall and cracked into the eight ball, sending it careening into the left corner pocket, just like she’d called. She blew off the tip of her pool stick and smirked at the man across the table. “I should’ve made you a bet, I’d be a few dollars richer right now.”

            He laughed and shook his head, “Well damn, I stand corrected. Where’d you learn to shoot pool like that?”

            “Oh, here and there…” she trailed off. “Did you and your friend want to play again?”

            He ran a hand through his hair and looked back at his friend, who was grinning at him, “Well, actually…Clayton sent me over to ask if y’all would be interested in playing teams? Us against you two. But now I’m not so sure after seeing that shot.” he chuckled.

            “Well, you said you’re pretty decent. Could be an interesting match,” she said with a shrug. “Whattaya say, Sher?” she called over to her friend who was standing on the other side of the table.

            “Hrm?” Sherry said, as she visibly wiped her mouth and brought her attention to Avery. 

            Avery chuckled, Sherry never could resist a tall, good looking man. And this guy was definitely that. “Mister Too Tall Paul over here said his buddy wants them to play teams against us–”

            “Actually, my name is Derek, not Paul, and I resemble that “Too Tall” comment, thank you.” Derek said dryly, then chuckled. “Makes playing even more of a pain when the damn lights hang this low.”

            “Yea yea, whatever excuse you need for when me and my girl here whoop you.” Sherry smack-talked as she walked around the table. “We’ll get this round. If you’re up for round two, you can pay for that one. Deal?”

            “Deal. Guess it depends on how much my ego can take, huh?” Derek rubbed the back of his neck, “Not sure it’ll be up to facing you ladies a second time but I guess we’ll see how it goes?”

            Clayton walked up to them then, “So, it’s a game, then?” He looked between Derek and Avery.

            Avery shrugged and Derek nodded, “Alright,” Clayton said. “Who wants to sweeten the pot, then?” he asked with a smirk and a playful gleam in his eyes.

            “I’m listening…” Avery hedged with a glance over towards Sherry. Her playful shrug relaxed the nerves that had taken root in her belly like sour milk.

            “Nothing too crazy, I promise” Clayton said, “The losers buy the winners a round of drinks.”

            “That’s it?” Avery asked, “I would’ve done that anyways if we lost. Which we won’t. But, yea, alright.”

            “Hold on a sec,” Sherry chimed in, “Let’s make it even sweeter.” The grin taking over her face worried Avery. “Losers pay for a meal after we leave here. Say…Eat n Park?”

            “Deal.” Clayton said immediately, extending his hand to Sherry without even looking at his friend, which she was only too happy to shake.

            “Now, hold on, what if you two don’t even like us?” Derek asked, “Or hell, what if we don’t like you?”

            “Well, I guess we’ll have some time to find out, huh?” Sherry laughed, “It’s on, boys.” 

            Avery noticed Derek glaring at Clayton, but his friend just laughed and walked over to the table where they’d left their sticks. When he noticed her looking at him he smiled and ran his hand down his face. “I’m sorry about him, he’s been trying to set me up with someone for a few years now. I’m pretty sure this is just another of his attempts at playing matchmaker after my wife passed.”

            “No, it’s fine. Trust me, I get it. My husband passed away a few years ago, and Sherry’s been trying to do the same for me for a little while now, as you can tell.”  She smiled and shook her head, “I know she means well, so I humor her antics. I just figure, it’ll happen when the universe wants it to. If it wants it to, ya know?”

            “Exactly!” Derek gestured to her, “But, sometimes it’s easier to just go along with his shenanigans, I guess.”

            “Doesn’t hurt that Sher can’t keep her eyes off your friend.” Avery laughed as she watched Sherry staring at Clayton as he walked back across the bar towards them.

“Pretty sure the lust is mutual,” Derek said with a chuckle. “So, you breaking or are we?”

“Wanna flip a coin?

“Ay, Clayton! Hand me a quarter!” Derek called out, pulling his friend’s attention from staring at Sherry as she racked the balls.

“Flipping to see who breaks?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, ladies pick though,” Clayton said as he pulled a quarter from his pocket, “Heads or tails, Avery?” he flicked the quarter into the air.

Avery called it at its peak, “Tails.”

Clayton caught it and flipped it onto the back of his other hand. Holding both hands out, Avery and Derek both bent over it to see in the low light, nearly bumping heads as Clayton pulled his hand away.

“Tails it is,” Derek laughed, “it’s your break then, Miss” he gestured overdramatically towards the table where a perfectly racked set of balls were waiting for her. She couldn’t help but grin as she walked over by Sherry.

“Am I even gonna get to shoot?” Her friend asked her with a knowing smirk.

“Do you really want to?” She asked with a raised brow.

“Hmm..” Sherry tapped her chin. “Nah, not this game. Wipe the floor with ‘em. I could go for a free meal tonight.”

Avery laughed and chalked her pool stick, “You got it, girlie. Might hurt your chances of getting Clayton’s number, though.” She grabbed the cue ball and put it where she wanted it, bending over to line up her shot.

“Don’t think so, but if he’s that type of guy, then I don’t want it anyway,” her friend said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Want me to grab your drink and move it over here?”

“Sure” she replied, pulling her stick back. She let it fly, striking the cue ball and sending it into the triangle of multicolored balls at a perfect angle. One of the stripes sunk into the far right corner pocket and she smiled, looking over at the boys as the rest of the balls came to a stop. “Guess we’re stripes you guys.” she said with a grin.

Clayton and Derek looked at each other, “Pretty sure that grin means bad news for us, bud.” Derek grimaced.

“Now now, you don’t know that. That could’ve been a lucky shot.” Clayton clapped his friend on the back before crossing his arms over his chest. “Let’s see how she handles the rest of those balls.” he said, almost with a straight face but a snicker worked its way through his lips.

“These are the only balls I’ll be handling tonight, too,” she grinned back before lining up her next shot, the snark just coming out uncensored. She blushed when she realized what she said but just shrugged her shoulders as Sherry broke into laughter behind her. Aiming for the red and white striped eleven ball, she shot the cue ball into it with a spin, sending it rolling into the left side pocket while the cue ball ricocheted into a clump of balls on the other side of the table, breaking them up a bit just like she wanted. Grabbing her drink from her friend, she took a swig and handed it back, then moved to line up her next shot, her focus snapping into place as she worked out how she was going to clear the table in the quickest way possible.

After three minutes and five sunken balls made with four perfectly executed shots, she finally looked away from the table, only to notice a small group of people standing around watching her play while the band jammed away on the other side of the bar, Clayton and Derek being the closest.

“She just jumped that ball.”

“Uh huh.”

“I can’t even jump a ball.”

“I know, Derek. I know. Looks like we better get ready to feed these ladies.”

“Goddamn.”

Sherry busted out laughing at that, bringing Avery her drink now that she was on the other side of the table. Avery could hear the people murmuring, trying to guess which pocket she was going to call for the eight ball and she grinned. “Never thought spending years in a bar as a kid would come in handy” she told Sherry as she gratefully accepted her glass. 

“Girl, I always told ya you should’ve gone professional. There’s guys out there making thousands per game that can’t even do what you can.”

“And I’ve always told you that I just enjoy playing for fun,” She handed her drink back with a small smile. “Might as well wrap this up, huh? I’m kind of hungry.” she said, loud enough for the guys to hear.

Derek just laughed and shook his head, running his hand through his thick, dark hair, ”Might as well, li’l miss. Can’t say I’ve ever enjoyed losing a bet, but this just might be an exception.” 

Avery grinned and tapped the pocket closest to her with the bottom of her stick, “Eight ball goin’ right here.” Bending over the table, she took a deep breath and lined up her shot. She imagined the eight ball gliding across the table and coming back to her, falling into the pocket near her shoulder. As she released her breath she let the stick fly, hitting the cue ball exactly where she wanted with what she hoped was just enough force and the white ball shot into the middle of the table. It cracked into the black eight ball before coming to a stop against the solid blue four ball. The eight ball hit the far edge and started making its way back to her, its momentum slowing the closer it got. Inching closer and closer, it came to a near stop only to gently topple right into the pocket she had called. Standing up with a grin she looked over at Derek first, and the matching grin on his face made her chest tighten oddly, but not in a bad way. 

“Well, I think we should take pity on these guys and not subject them to another crippling defeat,” Sherry sauntered up to her, a grin on her face and a twinkle in her eye as she glanced over Clayton before looking at Avery. “I’m pretty hungry. Might just be because food always tastes better when you’re not the one paying for it.” Her laugh was infectious and Avery found herself chuckling too. 

“What do you two think? It’s only midnight, so we could hang out for a bit. You don’t actually have to buy us dinner, Sherry only agreed cause she knew I rarely lose.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not like I knew that, and I’m the one that suggested the bet. A man always pays his dues.” Clayton laughed and shook his head, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone play pool that flawlessly. Almost like you just wished the balls to go exactly where you needed them to. That’s a helluva talent, Miss Avery.”

“You can drop the Miss, you know. Just Avery is perfectly alright,” she said with a laugh, “Honestly, I don’t play all that much anymore. But I grew up tailing my Dad around to places just like this little hole in the wall. Not much else for a kid to do but learn to shoot pool while her Dad’s playing in the band. I had a few good mentors over the years.”

Derek nodded in understanding next to her, then grabbed her pool stick, along with his own and Clayton’s and took them back to the rack. “I don’t think my ego can take another beatdown like that. Next time, I’m on your team.”

“Next time, huh?”

“Hopefully,” he replied with a smile.

“Hey now, she’s my pool shark. No stealsies, damnit.” Sherry chimed in, handing Avery the last of her drink.. 

Despite being watered down, Avery chugged it down, suddenly thirsty. She set the glass on the table next to them and swiped her thumb under her lip. Looking up, she caught Derek trailing the path of her thumb with his gaze and blushed.

“So, Eat N Park? Or did you guys want to hang out for a bit?”

“I’m definitely down for some food. They have a great late-night quesadilla, too.” Clayton answered. 

“Sounds good,” Sherry said, wrapping her arm through Avery’s. “We’ll meet you there?”

“Works for us. You sure one of you are good to drive?”

Avery laughed, “Yeah, I’m good. I definitely wouldn’t jeopardize my job like that.”

“That’s right! You’re a mail lady! That’s like, federal, ain’t it?” Clayton asked excitedly, “Man, I’ve always wondered what craziness you guys run into on the job. You’re gonna have to tell us some stories when we get to the restaurant.” 

“She must do no such thing, Clayton. Calm down and don’t bombard the poor woman with your mail lady fantasies.” Derek said, elbowing Clayton in the ribs as he passed him. He held the door open for both women to walk through, then followed them out, letting the door shut on Clayton with a loud thunk. The snicker he let out at the “AY! What the fuck?!” from Clayton sent Sherry into hysterics, which then had Avery laughing as they stood outside waiting for Clayton to win his battle with the door. 

Eventually he bested the door and managed to emerge victorious. Throwing a glare at Derek, who was still snickering, he scoffed, “Real mature, Derek. I’ll remember that next time you want a full, home cooked meal.” Brushing past them, he continued to what must have been his truck, an older, black, four-door pickup. Avery guessed it was a Ford but truthfully didn’t know much about cars to make a good guess, and she couldn’t make out any details from a distance. 

Derek stopped laughing at that, “Hey now, you don’t mean that ol’ buddy. It’s just harmless fun! It’s not my fault the door put up such a good fight! What can I say, it must’ve liked you!” Derek rushed over to the car, pulling a set of keys from his pocket and tossing them to Clayton. “Please don’t send me back to pizza and wings. Please?”

Avery and Sherry both started laughing at that as they trailed the two men, who’d parked only a space over from their ride. Avery pulled her keys out of her purse and moved to the driver’s side, which was closest to the guys. “Make sure y’all sort out your marital problems on the ride over, okay? We’ll meet you there?“ she asked.

“Marital prob–Hey!” Derek said as Clayton just started howling, “You know, that’d make you the wife, right? Withholding dinner and all that nonsense.”

Clayton coughed and stopped laughing, only to start back up again, “Ya know what? I’m okay with that. I’ll be the bitch any day, babe. Cause I’m still the only one who knows their way around that kitchen, so who’s really gonna come out on top in this scenario?”

“On…top…I can’t with you.” Derek turned toward Avery, “We’ll see you ladies there,” turning back to Clayton, “You, in the car, damnit. Let’s just go get some food.”

The drive over to Eat N Park wasn’t far, maybe five or six minutes. Neither Avery nor Sherry felt the need to fill the comfortable silence. Avery already knew Sherry was aiming for a good time and Sherry knew Avery probably wasn’t but would come along for the ride regardless. It worked for them. Plus, Avery loved food, so a free meal just sealed the deal for her. The fact that she was actually looking forward to getting to know those two bozos was kind of a bonus to her.

When they pulled up to the restaurant, there were only a few vehicles in the parking lot. Mostly gas well workers from the looks of the dust covered trucks. She parked next to the guys’ pickup truck and grabbed her purse. Locking up the car, she looked around but didn’t see either of the guys.

“They must be inside already,” Sherry said, and Avery threw her a small smile, suddenly shy about having a late night meal with two guys she just met. The bit of a buzz she’d had earlier had already worn off, which was for the best honestly. Tipsy Avery didn’t make the best decisions. Then again, does tipsy anyone really make good decisions? She thought to herself. 

Hiking her purse up higher on her shoulder, she followed Sherry up to and through the doors, immediately spotting Derek’s dark haired head poking above the two people in line behind him.

“See, Dary–ek! I told you they wouldn’t bail on us. What woman turns down free food at one in the morning?” Clayton nudged his friend.

“Definitely not us. Especially after that beatdown Avery gave y’all, I think we’ve…well, she’s earned it.” Sherry said with a chuckle and a nod at Avery, who simply smiled.

The hostess came and showed them to a booth against the window that looked over the parking lot since the blinds were pulled up. Avery scooted to the inside seat, knowing Sherry would eventually go out for a smoke. After ordering a pop, she took a minute to look over the menu to decide what she wanted while everyone else did the same. Even though she already knew what she wanted, it was always good to take a second look just in case something else tickled her fancy. 

When she looked up from the menu, having decided to go with her original thought, her eyes immediately met a pair of bright blue and gray eyes, a more complicated shade than she’d ever seen in anyone else. Well, almost anyone else. They reminded her a lot of Damian’s Dad’s eyes now that she could finally see them in decent lighting. Being shrouded by thick dark lashes brought out the lightness of the blue but the fade to gray was obvious towards the edge of his irises. Instead of looking away, like most others would when caught staring, Derek blinked slowly, a look of confusion flashing across his face briefly as he stared at her. She just stared back without saying anything while Clayton and Sherry easily filled the silence with their banter.

The waitress chose that moment to come back with their drinks, and the plop of a glass in front of her broke the staring contest she’d inadvertently entered with the man across from her. A man who is basically a stranger still. Don’t get caught up, Avery. The voice in her head told her. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she took a small sip of her drink to moisten her suddenly dry mouth.

“Hey babe, I gotta go pee. Can you let me out real quick?”

“I guess so since your tall ass can’t crawl under the table. Want me to come with ya?”

“I think I can manage on my own,” she laughed, scooting out of the booth after Sherry. “I’ll be right back. Just order me the chicken quesadilla with sour cream and extra pico if the waitress comes back.”

“Oh! A girl after my own heart,” Clayton jested, clutching his hands against his chest and fake swooning. Avery just laughed and started walking towards the bathrooms on the other side of the lobby. After doing her business, she washed her hands managing to avoid wetting her bandages and looked at herself in the mirror. She debated on fixing her slightly smudged eyeliner but decided against it. They’d already seen her in all her messy glory so no sense in fixing it now. Nope, if these guys wanted to get to know them, might as well start off real right from the start, right? Not that she had high hopes for anything, but she wasn’t too stupid to know that anything was possible.