Page 87 of Break Me
Twenty-Six
I only hearsilence when I walk inside her house.
Silence, and something that feels strangely cold. I don’t believe in God. I don’t really believe in ghosts, either. But I swear to God there’s a ghostly presence in this house, even if it’s just from the two broken humans inside.
Ava’s arms wrap around me and I lift her up, hugging her close to me. Her whole body is wracked with sobs and she rests her head on my shoulder. I lean against the door at my back and just hold her, smoothing down her hair, letting her cry. I don’t need to ask.
I know her mom is gone now.
I have no idea if her father knows I’m here, but now is not the time to ask.
Instead, I just let Ava cry, her tears falling against my neck. My heart aches for her, even though I never got to meet her mom. Something I’m sure that will haunt Ava for the rest of her life.
Because I don’t care what I said. I don’t care what she said. I’m not leaving her again. She’s stuck with me now.
After a moment, her sobs grow quiet, but her body still shakes in my arms, her own arms still wrapped around my neck, her legs around my waist. I want to kiss her tears away, pull back and wipe them from her eyes. But I let her grieve how she wants. This is her loss.
I stand like that, with her pressed against me, for a long, long time. I don’t hear her father upstairs, and I wonder how he’s coping. I wonder how he’s hurting. I wonder if he can even think right now, past the misery.
Wonder what it must be like to love someone that much.
Finally, Ava pulls away from me and I slide her down my body until she’s on her feet. Her face is red, eyes still full of tears, and her lip trembles as she takes my face in her hands.
“Benji,” she whispers, like a question.
I don’t say anything, just keep staring at her. Her blue eyes are shining from grief, but I can’t help thinking she looks so goddamn beautiful. So fucking pure. It’s not fair that the world did this to her, took her mom much too soon.
But I know more than anyone that nobody gets a perfect life. Ava is no exception. If it were up to me, she would be.
“Stay with me,” she whispers, my face still between her hands.
I nod. “Of course.” I wouldn’t dare leave.
Her hands fall down my face, to my neck, skimming over my shoulders and my body comes alive at her touch, even though I won’t fuck her tonight. Not unless she really, really wants to. Some people try to deal with grief that way.
I know I did, after I got out of prison. I tried to fuck away the memory of watching Bianca with Thames.
Feeling his head beneath my tire wasn’t enough. Beating him to within an inch of his life wasn’t fucking enough. I wanted to get her out of my system completely.
In prison, I did.
But with Ava…I’m not sure I ever would. She’s too good. I don’t ever want to erase her.
“Is your dad…” I trail off, not sure what I’m asking. I know he’s not okay. I know he probably doesn’t want to see a grown ass man in his house, touching his daughter. But I’m definitely not leaving.
Ava looks down, and I see a tear clinging to her lower lashes.
“We’ll go to my room,” she whispers. “You can see him in the morning.”
I nod, and she slips her hand in to mine, tugging me toward the stairs.
* * *
I don’t sleep.
Ava’s back is pressed against my chest, my arms wrapped around her. I feel her steady inhales and exhales as she sleeps. We passed by her mom’s room without going in, but the door was cracked, and I saw her dad was wrapped around her mom just like I’m wrapped around her.
My chest feels like it’s going to cave in, thinking of Ava that way.
