Page 13 of Accidentally Checked By My Brother's Best Friend

We make a sharp left and a quick right as Duncan leads me down a hallway. When we almost reach the end, he turns me toward him. His green eyes are full of worry as they roam my face.

Tiny tingles follow everywhere his eyes touch. My knees give way, and my body starts to crumble. A strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me up and in; its warmth embracing me, and I shiver.

“Are you okay?” Duncan’s voice is filled with concern. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

Placing my hands on his biceps, I try to speak but nothing comes out.

“Ava? Please say something. You’re scaring me.” His scratchy voice envelopes me, and when his eyes soften, my stomach dips.

Duncan has always known when I was pretending to be okay versus when I truly was. It was my biggest pet peeve that this boy could see through my facade. The fact that he still has that ability creates a longing to be known completely. With him, I don’t have to hide.

What would happen if I finally let someone in to see all of me? What if that person was Duncan?

“Ava?” He places a hand on my cheek, and a sigh escapes.

Any words I was working to form to let him know I’m fine are entirely lost to me, but that’s because I’mnotfine.

I’m not fine with him standing this close to me, looking at me with concern that has warmth pooling in my stomach. I’m not okay with him whisking me away like my knight in shining armor, and I am definitely not fine with the emotions running through my body.

When it comes to Duncan, I can’t play a part. He can see through it, and for the first time in my life, I want to let my defenses down. I want to let someone in.

Chapter Seven

Duncan

Whenmyeyeslandedon Ava and the crowd surrounding her as I walked out of the locker room, it took every ounce of control I had not to smash my fist into the head of every one of the people shoving a phone in her face. Seeing her shaky smile and eyes full of fear filled me with a staggering urge to protect her.

My heart is pounding furiously, and I’m sure it will batter its way through my chest. Her cheek is so soft under my hand, and her body feels so tiny next to me. The urge to keep her safe, even when we’re away from danger, is like a hunger that has to be fed.

“Ava.” My other hand cups her cheek, and I bend my knees to get to her eye level. “Please talk to me. Are you okay?”

The hand on my arm gently squeezes while I watch her mouth open and close a few times. No words are coming out.

Clenching my teeth together, I let my eyes look over her face again, ensuring she isn’t physically hurt.

“You’re safe,” I whisper. “I’m here, and I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

A shiver moves through her body. Her teeth pull her bottom lip and I notice it quiver.

“Look at me, Ava.” Her crystal blue eyes glance up, and she meets mine. “Take a deep breath.”

I feel her body rise and fall shakily against my forearms. “There you go. Good girl. Just breathe.”

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this version of Ava. Her brave front collapses in front of my eyes—the need to keep her guarded from the world reemerging.

I remember the first time I had this feeling. I was a gangly thirteen year-old. Me, Fiona, David, and Ava were walking home from the high school football game because David’s ‘classic’ 1975’s Chevy Chevelle was once again in the shop.

The night was one of those perfect autumn nights where the air is crisp and cool but not cold—the crinkling sound from the leaves getting blown around by the wind surrounding us.

“What’s wrong?” I asked Ava, the worried expression on her face making me want to wrap her in my arms. Fi and David were walking in front of us, hand in hand, quietly talking.

When Ava and Fiona moved next door, I was immediately smitten. Ava looked like a goddess, her silky blonde hair hanging loosely around her face. The smile she gave me was full of confidence, but her soft blue eyes had a touch of lingering sadness that I couldn’t put my finger on and it pulled at my heart.

The desire to make that sadness go away was almost as fierce as needing to play hockey. Tonight, five years later, it’s still the same.

“I hate that you can do that,” she grumbles.

“Do what?” My forehead furrowed as I looked at her over my shoulder.

---