Page 27 of Without Judgment

Just when I thought I’d have to apologize at how dickish that statement was, she burst out laughing.

“Uh, thanks. I think. No one would ever accuse you of not being honest.”

I chuckled, getting comfortable on the sofa. “You have enough chips to share?”

She arched a brow, a smile playing on her lips. “After that terrible compliment, I’m not sure you deserve it.”

“Please. As if you’re going to consume all of these carbs for yourself.”

She rolled her eyes but grinned. “True. And I’m shallow enough to admit that.”

***

I endured The Princess Bride. Not that I would ever admit it out loud, but I found myself laughing at a couple of the parts. Internally, of course, as I didn’t want to hear it from Avery.

“What’s next?” I asked when she popped out the Blu-ray. We’d been quiet during the movie except for crunching on chips and me grabbing sodas and popcorn at the halfway point.

“You want to watch another one?”

“Sure.” The hours leading up to bedtime always had me on edge. It was especially bad here in this house where I knew Avery could hear my nightmares. I couldn’t control them, so after last night, I was in no hurry to fall asleep again. I should simply tell her to ignore me and any sounds she heard, but that would entail bringing them up. I much preferred to ignore the whole subject entirely. Plus, hanging with her wasn’t bad at all.

“You can choose this next one. Hit menu, and you can search for newer titles or there is an entire drawer with older DVDs if you prefer. I’ll be right back.”

By the time she returned, I’d settled on Deadpool from their vast library of movies. “Are you sure you want me to pick?” I wished to be sensitive to anything she might want to do in order to remember her mom.

“I’m sure. Sometimes it’s nice not to be reminded, too, if that makes any sense.”

I hesitated before pressing play because it did make sense. In more ways than she could imagine. Wanting to find out more, I asked, “How old were you when she died?”

“Twelve.”

I swallowed hard. “That’s a tough age for a girl to lose her mom.”

She released a breath. “Yeah, it was.”

“Is your brother coming in? Or is your father coming home?” Trevor hadn’t mentioned it, but I wondered if he would make the trip since it would be the anniversary.

She shook her head. “Trevor is busy with things, but he’ll call. He always does. And my father— He doesn’t do well with holidays, anniversaries, or her birthday. I don’t know if he’ll come home. Either way, I’ll make some of her favorite recipes. She was a great cook.”

“My mom was, too.”

Her expression showed surprise; she’d clearly caught my use of past tense. “When did she pass?”

“When I was eighteen, before I started college. Cancer sucks.” That was all I wanted to say about it. I never liked talking about this.

“It does, indeed. And your dad?”

“Remarried quickly. Too quickly for my taste, but what do I know? Some people have a hard time being alone.”

“While others seem to prefer it.”

I went to the mini fridge to grab more sodas and handed her one. “Your dad?”

“Threw himself into the job. I shouldn’t complain, though. My father loves me. But I think he expected I’d found someone to take care of me so he doesn’t have to worry.”

“Is that what you were looking for with what’s-his-face?” Not sure why I was fishing for this information, but I found myself wanting to know.

She gave me a sad smile. “I think so. Security. But what’s sad is how I was more wrapped up in the idea of marriage, home, and family than I was in him. Although I’ve never admitted this out loud to anyone before—”

---