The Impact of You

Chapter 35

Avery

I sob for all the lost time, the memories that we’d never create, the mother that abandoned me as a baby. I cry for a life that could have been. For the choice my mom had to make and at such a young age, and for the circumstances that led to that decision.

Life is a crapshoot. We’ve all been dealt a hand that we have no choice but to play – my mom by getting pregnant too young, me with simply the circumstances I was born into.

After meeting her face to face, seeing how normal she is, I’m not immature enough to believe she’d given me up because I was a bad baby. No. She’d made the best decision she could for me and for herself. But that didn’t make this any easier. She’d done the most selfless thing she could do. She’d given me to two loving parents who desperately wanted a child. It broke my heart. There’s grief and loss mixed in with happiness and joy. It’s all too much.

Jase just holds me. He lets me completely fall apart. He doesn’t say anything, other than making calming sounds meant to soothe. He rubs my back in slow circles and rocks me silently against his chest. I can’t even let myself hope what his presence might mean. He’s here now, all solid and warm, and holding me. It’s not nearly enough, but it’ll do. For now.

By the time I’m all cried out, my throat is raw and Jase’s T-shirt is soaked with my tears, but he doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about this shirt. His hand continues its soothing path, rubbing slow circles between my shoulder blades while my breathing returns to normal. 

Jase

When her tears finally stop, little unsteady hiccups continue to rasp in her chest for several minutes more. Avery eventually lifts her head from my shoulder and blinks up at me, wiping away the remnants of her makeup.

“I’m sorry,” she croaks, her voice raw from crying.

“No. Don’t be. I’m glad you let it out, and I’m glad I could be here for you.”

She nods. “Thanks, Jase.”

“Anytime, Whistle.”

Confusion crosses her face at hearing the nickname I haven’t used in a while. She’s wondering the same thing I am – about us. About where we stand now.

She sits up on the bed, completely disentangling herself from me. The loss of warmth from her body next to mine is unwelcome, but I resist the urge to tug her back to me.

a shower,” she says.

is a tangled, matted mess--the strands framing her face slightly damp from her tears. “Yeah, okay.” The warm water will soothe her some, I hope. “I’ll go out and pick us up dinner. We can eat here in bed if you’re

from the bed. “Yeah, low key

she’d be up for going out someplace. I take the keys from the bedside table and watch as Avery disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. When I hear the water turn on, I have to fight the urge to go

of Chinese takeout. Dressed in a white tank and pink cotton pants, Avery sits cross-legged

so I can only assume the shower helped. Her hair is still damp, but combed neatly and secured in a braid across her shoulder. It makes her look younger. Beautiful. Food is suddenly the last thing on my

get us? It

the bag on the bedside table and begin unloading the paper cartons. “Chinese. Hope

“Yeah, that’s perfect.”

in my adjoining room and close the door. I’m hopeful we’ll share a bed tonight. Even if nothing else happens, I just want to be near her. And I figure

all the pillows from my bed and hers up against the headboard and is lounging against

too quiet, too

end of the bed, and rub the back of my neck, waiting for her to give me some indication she wants me to stay. Although she’s commandeered all my pillows so….

just really like pillows…” She wiggles against the mountain behind her, making herself comfortable. “Kidding. Of course you’re staying.” She pats the bed beside

knew what she’s thinking. I cross the room to sit beside her on the bed. “You doing better?” I ask, though I can

can only hope has been helped by my presence. The feeling is addicting. I just

bed, and moves closer to sink against the pillows. We’re half-sitting, half-lying side

my past … indiscretions?” she asks, staring at the ceiling.

We do need to talk about that. I wonder if she’s going to start, because I have no clue what to say. She grips her

made stupid mistakes. But I don’t like feeling lied to.” She doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking straight up at the ceiling, her expression neutral. “The main thing holding me back is that you’re not who I thought you were. I can’t escape the feeling like I’ve been fooled

draw some inner strength. “You saw the real me. The messy,

were running and I just wanted to help. Seeing you crouched behind that dumpster…shit,

But guess what? I don’t want to be someone’s project.

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