Page 60 of Leave Before I Love You
I shrug. “I guess whoever pays my credit card bill.”
My dad’s jaw drops. “You mean me.”
“And doesn’t that make you feel good, Daddy? Helping those women like that?”
He stares at me, completely flabbergasted. “Avery, I swear to God…”
June snickers. “Oh my God.”
“It’s official.” Beau smiles. “Avery is back.”
Neil sighs, runs a hand through his hair, but eventually, he just smiles at me too, laughing softly as he wraps his arms around my mom’s shoulders.
“I love how it took Avery going missing for thirteen days for me to find out that she’s a charity stylist to the rich women of The Pines and I’m footing the bill,” he muses, and June bursts into laughter.
But then her hormones get the best of her, and she starts sobbing.
“June?” my mom asks, and June just lifts her hand in the air briefly.
“I’m fine,” she stutters out between tears, “just happy my bestfriend is back,” before turning her whole body to bury herself against Beau’s chest.
Beau smiles down at June like she hung the stars and the moon—the way he always looks at her—and my chest squeezes.
I want to see Henry. I want to see him badly.
And as of this moment, I’m done waiting to do it.
“I want to see Henry. Can someone take me to his room, please?”
Beau’s forehead creases with both confusion and apology as he shakes his head. “They discharged him a little bit ago. Ronnie and Mav are driving him home. No one told you?”
No. No one told me.
Evidently, all references to Avery and Henry as a set ended the minute we landed in Miami.
Henry is just Henry, and I’m just me, and I’m starting to wonder if the two will ever get the chance to mix again.
“Speaking of discharge,” my mom says excitedly. “They said you can go home too.”
I nod, considering what that even means. I’m not so sure anymore.
I used to think home was a place. Now, I’m wondering if it might be a person.
Henry
The door to my apartment clicks shut behind me, the sound echoing in the empty space. It feels surreal to be back here. Ten days ago, I’d have killed for this—a hot shower, a bed, clean clothes, and all my comfortable shit.
Now? It feels…hollow. And truly fucking lonely. Which is hilarious, seeing as I practically bribed Ronnie and Mav to leave not ten minutes ago.
I drop the bag my assistant Cara dropped off at the hospital near the door, kick off my shoes, and take a look around.
I bought this condo three years ago—a certified penthouse bachelor pad with an incredible view of the ocean. It was a celebratory purchase when Adrenaline Junkie reached eight figures in revenue and, at the time, a picture-perfect home base for everything I wanted out of life.
Nothing has changed—not the decor, the leather sectional, nor the expensive artwork I let some popular interior designer pick out for me because I thought it’d impress whatever chick I brought home for the night—and yet, it all feels incredibly fucking different.
Crazy how it can be exactly as I left it two weeks ago, down to the massive marble dining table filled with adrenaline-packed posters for our next big marketing campaign scattered across it likebadges of honor, and feel, today, like I’ve been dropped off on another planet.
The faint hum of the refrigerator buzzes, the noise freshly grating after nothing but waves, birds, and Avery.
