Page 42 of Jagged Line Paradise

It would be easy to give in, to let myself feel hopeful that we could have some sort of friendship again. But my heart has been broken beyond repair and I don’t think anyone can fix it. The pain feels raw and new again, and I just need to move…to stop standing still and justmove.

I sigh. “If I can’t get rid of you, at least walk beside me. It doesn’t exactly make me feel safe to have you following behind me.”

His head lowers with a single nod. “Fair enough.” He strides forward with a grin.

We walk side by side up the dirt path and turn onto the sidewalk along the main road. He matches my pace instead of hurrying me along, which both surprises and annoys me. I don’t want him being kind or accommodating. I know how I am with men who are kind and accommodating, and I know I can’t handle that level of vulnerability with him. His presence alone makes me feel things I didn’t know I’d ever be able to feel again.

It’s the intensity that unnerves me—abrupt and mystifying intensity that triggers a kind of tension I haven’t felt in years. It’s this kind of feeling that drives me toward poor decision making and bad relationships….like Anthony Johnson.

Anthony gave me the attention I was craving when I was desperate for it, after Andrés left. We had chemistry that I wish we hadn’t because he was a nightmare, a criminal and a druggie who kept me stagnant. But the same kind of chemical intensity I feel right now was there with Anthony in the beginning, too and the feeling terrifies me. Especially because it’s so much stronger with Andrés.

Everything was always stronger with Andrés.

He sighs, and it isn’t in frustration or impatience. It’s just a sigh.

I wonder if he feels it, too.

He shoves his hands into his pants pockets and the movement draws my attention. I glance over at him as we walk. I can almost see the boy I knew walking beside me.

We’ve walked this path before.

I can see the image of him, crystal-clear, hands buried in the pocket of his hoodie—joking and smiling with me—as we walked together to the nearby convenience store to get a soda.

Those stupid hoodies. He always wore them, even when it was one hundred degrees outside, but he hardly ever broke a sweat. He was cool in every way and being with him made me happy.

I miss that.

I miss being happy.

I miss those days with him when things were simple, when we were just Andrés and Avalon—double A—having fun and getting through each day together. The memory of us brings a smile to my face, but it’s brief. It fades into a frown just as quickly because missing him reminds me that he chose to leave me at one of the lowest points in my life. He made me wonder if he ever cared at all.

I can’t forgive him forthat.

His cell phone rings, and he pulls it from his pocket to answer. “Yeah?” His eyes narrow as he listens. His tone is harsher and more commanding than I remember it being. “I’ll be back when I get back. Sorry, this is more important.” He pauses, listening. “Yes. Just give me a couple of hours.”

He hangs up and looks at me and I quickly turn away. Heaven forbid he should catch me studying his features.

“Aren’t you on a deadline?”

“For what?”

“Your dumb movie.”

“It’s not a dumb movie, Avalon.”

“Well, I think it’s dumb.”

“Don’t be such a child.”

I stop and he continues forward a step before he realizes that I’ve stopped. He turns to face me.

“Don’t patronize me,” I tell him. “I’m not a child.”

He moves in close to me—too close—and his hardened expression only pulls my tension tighter. “Only children call things dumb. Usually, when it’s something they’re afraid of. What are you afraid of? That the truth will come out?”

“I’m not afraid of the truth.” That’s a lie.

“Then what is it? Four of the five victims’ families have signed on without a fuss. They want their loved ones lives celebrated. If you’d bothered to take any of mine or Brittany Jane’s calls, you’d understand the angle. You’d understand that this documentary isn’t about my father.”

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