Page 61 of Make You Mine

We leave in thirty. Not up for discussion. Copy. ~ C. Perez

I’m typing out a response before processing it all, another kind of energy taking over. This one is thirsty for vengeance.

For every life he took.

For Ava.

It’s time to end this sick motherfucker.

21

AVA

I’m restless. Scared.

Full of worry. A gut feeling that’s made me scrub Elijah’s home from top to bottom—work myself into a state of exhaustion that keeps my mind from falling down the rabbit hole of despair. From thinking the worst.

That he’s hurt. That he’s in danger. That he’s out there looking for Lyle, God knows where.

So many things could happen. Could go wrong. And what’s worse, I can’t do anything to stop this.

Keep it together. He’ll be okay.

“Breathe in and out, Ava. Everyone will be okay,” I repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. My mantra. Maybe if I say it enough, I will put it into existence. But then I remember another set of words.

Words he told me a few weeks ago.

He’s human. We all are.

And it’s thatwhat-ifthat’s killing me. It’s hitting me so hard in the chest because I failed to stay away. I fell for him. Completely and utterly.

Moreover, while I didn’t mean to, I’m paying the price of my stupidity.

Not that it could be stopped, but I knew from the moment our eyes met that being together would hurt. That letting my walls down would be my—our—downfall.

If he doesn’t come back home in one piece, I’ll?—

No. I won’t even entertain the idea. Can’t.

Closing the top drawer of the dresser inside my room, I stretch my neck, and the small pop it gives doesn’t ease a single bit of the tension there. Instead, it pulls a bit, and I hiss in discomfort, bringing a hand up to massage the sore spot while holding my clothing with the other.

I’m stressed and tired. Need him to come back home to me.

“Any minute now, Ava. Trust him to know what he’s doing.” Dropping my towel, I slip a pair of yellow polka dot boy shorts up my hips and then a pair of his boxers that I stole while washing his laundry. A tight tank top with a built-in bra in the same black as his underwear finishes my attire.

It’s comfy. Makes me feel closer to him somehow to wear something of his.

With a quick spritz of body spray and my hair thrown up in a messy bun, I’m out the door and heading back to his kitchen. Well, almost—my favorite pair of socks, fuchsia and fuzzy, go on my feet first before heading to take out the trash.

There’s a chute near the center of this floor, and I feel okay throwing it out by myself, knowing that Elijah went after Lyle. That while I hate him being anywhere near the asshole, Eli knows where Lyle is, and that’s not in this building.

Before opening the door, I look out through the peephole and see nothing. I stand there for a bit and watch, and after there’s no movement for several minutes, I open the door.

For some reason, the moment I step through the threshold, my skin breaks out in goosebumps, and my breathing picks up.Foreboding takes hold, and I pause just a few steps away. There’s something in the air all around me, something that makes me want to run back inside and lock myself away.

I’m being ridiculous. No one’s here.

I know this. Can see this.

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