Why Not Now? (The Blue Vista Crew #2)

9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Ava

O n the List of Dumb Mistakes Ava’s Made in Her Life, this might just hit number one. And yet, when I wake in the middle of the night—after the most amazing sex I’ve had since the last time Derek and I had sex—I lay still for a moment, soaking in the sensation of him wrapped around me, the scent of amber and cardamom that fills me with a sense of security and calm.

I know how ridiculous it sounds to say two virgins had better sex than any other interaction I’ve had since. But it’s true. Not because we had any clue what made sex good, but because of how intent he’d always been to make me feel safe and loved. And once he figured out how, he’d always make me come first.

I look at him, so relaxed in sleep, his dark lashes resting against his cheek, his curls falling over his forehead, and my heart squeezes. I could so easily fall in love with this man again, but what would that lead to? More heartache?

A tear traces down my cheek, landing on the pillow. Then I take a deep breath, breathing in the scent of Refuge one more time, and carefully untangle myself from his embrace. I slip from bed and gather my leggings and underwear from where we’d chucked them earlier.

I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. But I’m always tired on Thursday nights after working two jobs two days in a row. That, combined with the orgasms, plus the scent that makes me feel at ease, and I hadn’t been able to stop my descent into a restful sleep.

I creep down the stairs, pulling my clothes on as I walk. When I reach the bottom, I’m in his living room, where Abyss looks up from the couch, her yellow eyes bright and accusatory in the darkness.

“I have to go,” I tell her. “It was stupid of me to come. We’re supposed to be friends, not sleeping together.” God, I’ve probably ruined everything already. After less than a week.

I find my shirt where we’d left it by the front door, embarrassed he’d seen me in my mustard yellow work shirt—not that I’d worn it for long. After I’m dressed, I pull my phone out of my purse—also discarded on the floor when I’d come in—and check to make sure I haven’t missed any calls or texts from Lacey. It’s 1am now. I let out a sigh of relief when I see there’s nothing. I shouldn’t have been so careless. What if something had happened? Yes, she’d been asleep before I’d even left work, but still.

I pick up Derek’s keys from the table and let myself out, locking the door behind me and dropping the keys back through the mail slot. I go out to my car and sit in the driver’s seat for a while without putting the key in the ignition.

He called me sweetheart again.

When we first started dating, he’d gone through a dozen cutesy nicknames I hated. We laughed about them all. Honey, cupcake, snookums, baby, pookie, peaches. Some were better than others. Then one day, he kissed my forehead and said, “Sweetheart, I’ll call you whatever you want. Even if it’s just Ava.”

I rub absently at my chest as I start my car. Thankfully, there are no other vehicles on the road at this time of night, so I keep replaying the last few hours in my head as I drive home.

I don’t remember him being so skilled with his tongue before. He’d always been attentive and determined to ensure I had as much fun with sex as he did, something I’d been missing a lot over the past several years, often needing to take control of the situation myself so I would at least get off once. Back then, we’d just been learning about sex. Derek had certainly taken some additional lessons.

The jealousy that thought sparks is surprising. Especially considering I haven’t exactly been chaste since we broke up.

I park in the back and bring my things into my bedroom before going upstairs to check on Lacey. She’s fast asleep and has kicked off all her blankets. I pull them around her, tucking her in before returning to my room. I curl up under my blankets, remembering Derek’s hands, his mouth, his tongue. God. He knows what he’s doing.

After tossing and turning for half an hour, I reach into my bedside table drawer and withdraw a small bottle. I spin it in my hands, noting the picture of the fortress on the label. I open the bottle, letting the sweet and spicy scent escape, spilling a single drop on my pillow before replacing the lid and putting it away.

Finally, with the smell of amber and cardamom easing my roiling emotions, I fall into a restless sleep, dreams plagued with memories, some from last night, some from years ago, blending together until I can’t remember which is which. When my alarm goes off at 5:30, my head is pounding, and my eyes feel gritty. I drag myself up and into a scalding shower that doesn’t wake me up as much as I hope it will. Thankfully, Lacey is already awake and has coffee ready when I get upstairs.

“Hey,” she says, pausing in her swift consumption of cereal. “I need you to sign something.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and blink them open, picking up the paper while I pour a cup of coffee. “What’s this?” I ask, assuming it’s some kind of permission form.

“Out late last night?” Lacey asks, dragging my attention back to her.

I shouldn’t have gone to Derek’s. My sleep has been completely thrown off and I’m struggling to sort through my thoughts, my brain sluggish.

“Yeah. I went out after work for a couple hours.”

Lacey smirks. “Was he good?”

I send her a withering glance. We’ve had a lot of talks about sex, and she knows I go out to meet guys now and then. Usually on nights when she’s staying with her friend. My hope with those talks is she decides to wait to have sex until she’s older, but I also know some of her friends are already doing it.

“None of your business,” I tell her, because as much as I want her to talk to me about these things, she doesn’t need to know the details of my own sex life.

“That means he was either very good or very bad. He wouldn’t happen to be the same guy who’s taking you out after work tonight, is he?”

I try to focus on the paper she’s given me, but between my blurry vision from lack of sleep and the memories of last night still distracting me, I can’t see it. “None of your business,” I repeat.

She gasps. “He is! Ava, are you dating someone? For real?”

I roll my eyes, picking up a pen. “We’re not dating. He’s just a friend.”

“You have a friend?”

She sounds more shocked by that idea than she had been by me dating. I get it. I’m so busy with work and keeping us afloat that all my friendships have faded over the years. A lot of my friends had pulled away after our parents died. The rest… well, friendship is a two-way street, and my side of the street is gridlocked. Bethany is pretty much it for me and I have a feeling the only reason we’ve managed to stay close is because we work together, and I see her there. I might also count Theresa, our next-door neighbour, as a friend, but again, proximity makes it easy to stay connected with her.

“He’s an old friend. We knew each other in high school. You probably don’t remember him.”

Suddenly, all the tiredness leaks out of me as I realize exactly what Lacey has been doing. Distracting me, so I simply sign the paper without looking.

“What is this, Lacey?” I look down at what I’m holding. “You failed your math test?”

She winces. “Barely. It wasn’t my fault. There were five questions on a topic Mr. Henley didn’t say would be on the test. So I didn’t study those. Half the class failed. He’s going to do another one on Monday and if we all pass, he’ll make it worth more than this one.”

“Isn’t the point of a test not to tell the students what questions will be on it?” I ask.

“Well, I guess. But this topic was from way back at the beginning of the semester. We’d already had a test on it.”

I rub my eyes. “Then you should have known the answers.” I take a breath. “You’re not going anywhere this weekend. You’ll stay home and study and you better get an A on Monday or else.”

“But I was going to go to the movies tomorrow with Jess and—”

I cut her off before she can list the whole group of friends who are going. “Not anymore.”

“How will you stop me?” she asks, eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you going out again?”

I set the pen down without signing the test. “I’m working. You know I have to work. It’s not like I’m going out for the fun of it.”

“What about tonight?”

I’d told her I was going out with a friend, but that was before I went to Derek’s house last night and ruined any potential friendship before it could begin by sleeping with him.

“I’m not sure if that’s still happening, but if it does, I’m taking pictures for my portfolio. Besides that, I’m not on trial here. You’re the one who failed your math test.”

She rolls her eyes. No one can roll their eyes like a sixteen-year-old girl who isn’t getting her way.

“Whatever. It’s not like you’re ever here, anyway.”

I wince. No one can fire shots that hit right in the spot you’re most vulnerable quite like a sister, either. “Look. We’ll talk about this when you get home from school. I have to get to work.”

Lacey huffs and gets up, stalking into her room and closing the door hard, though not exactly a slam.

I stare down at the math test. It had always been one of Lacey’s worst subjects and we’d fought since she started high school to get her through it. She’d already decided she’s not going to take it in grade twelve. Which doesn’t mean she can completely slack off on it this year.

Unfortunately, I know she’s right. I’m not here enough to keep her on track. I can’t help but think I’m failing her just as much as she’s failing math. But if I try working less, we’d have to cut back on things, maybe even move to a smaller house. This one is ridiculously expensive to heat and probably way bigger than we need for the two of us. When our parents had died, I’d wanted to make sure Lacey was in a stable place. I hadn’t wanted to uproot her when everything had already changed on her. Derek had mentioned we could potentially sell it and get something smaller, but he hadn’t understood my need to keep things the same. For Lacey.

If the last few years have taught me anything, it’s that being a parent and a sister is a difficult spot to navigate, and I don’t get a handy test to show me exactly how badly I’m doing or what equations I need to study. I just have to wing it and hope for the best.

It’s a constant balancing act between trying to be an authority figure and also someone she can come to if she’s struggling. Balancing between being there for Lacey and being there for myself as well. I’m probably a lot more out of balance than I’ve wanted to admit to myself.

I sign the test and head out to my car. Theresa is in her yard and calls to me before I can get in.

“Hi, Theresa,” I say.

“Hey. How is it going? You getting ready for Christmas?”

I hate it when she asks questions like this. She’s a single mom but has the help of her parents, so she’s always ready for everything before I am: the start of school, Halloween, Christmas, birthdays.

“Getting there,” I lie.

“I noticed your car wasn’t here when I went to bed last night. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I went out for a bit after work.”

Theresa has always been kind of nosy, but she and her parents helped me with babysitting Lacey when she was little. A sense of obligation has lingered ever since, like I can’t quite do enough to pay her back. I also feel bad for her. Right before my parents died, she and her husband were going through a terrible divorce. With my bedroom on the ground floor and a lot of the fights taking place in their backyard, I’d heard a lot of it.

“Oh. New boyfriend?” she asks.

I smile and don’t answer the question. “I’ve gotta get to work. I’ll see you later, Theresa.”

I drive away, feeling the distance between me and my house grow, thinking about Lacey’s parting shot— It’s not like you’re ever here anyway —and Theresa’s question— Getting ready for Christmas —feeling like an absolute failure.