Page 33 of Lucky Hit

"Keep dreaming, hotshot," I mutter and hold my clothes against my chest to shield myself before running back inside the bathroom.

???

"We need to talk about yesterday, Ava," Oakley says as soon as we sit down on the couch half an hour later.

I raise an eyebrow and shrug. "Do we? There's not much else to talk about." Of course there is. But I don't particularly want to talk about it. The Devil's in the details, right?

"I just want to help." He grabs my hand and rubs his thumb back and forth across my knuckles in a soothing motion.

I let out a huff and nod reluctantly. "What do you want to know?" I ask quietly, deciding to give him the floor. He looks at me with worried eyes, as if he's trying to avoid asking something that will upset me. "Just ask me what you want to know. I'll try my best not to get upset."

His worried expression quickly turns into one of curiosity. "Okay. You were adopted and have never met your birth parents, right?" I nod my head, and he continues, "And now your birth mom is trying to contact you?" I nod again. "Why did she give you up?" He furrows his brows and purses his lips.

Although I was expecting him to ask, I can't help but feel the sadness sink its claws into my ribcage.

"She was an addict. Or at least that's what all of the social workers told me. My deadbeat father ran off when he found out she was pregnant. Maybe that's why she thought she didn't have any other choice."

"What bullshit! There's always another way," he hisses, clearly very upset.

I squeeze his hand, trying to pull his attention back to me.

"Not in Rebecca's head," I shrug and stare at the family picture leaning on the television stand. It was taken during my first Christmas since being formally adopted.

Mom declared it as a day to be remembered. She pushed us all in front of the fireplace, propped her camera up on the coffee table and set a timer before running over to stand in her spot beside Dad. I remember how it felt at that moment, looking around at my new family. For the first time in my life, I was completely and utterly happy.

"What was it like? In foster care."

I blink back the tears that are beginning to cloud my vision. I let out a slight cough, trying to clear my throat.

"It had its good moments. But it isn't something I would wish upon anyone. I spent most of my childhood in all-girl group homes. I only stayed with a few different foster families."

"Did you ever... were there ever abusive families?" His eyes widen instantly, almost as if that wasn't what he meant to ask. "I mean, I've heard the system isn't always the greatest."

"It's okay, really," I promise and continue, "It's common knowledge that there are some not-so-great foster parents in the system. I was one of the lucky ones, I guess. I wasn't physically abused."

He remains silent. I peek over at him and sigh. Great, I've freaked him out now.

After a few moments of tense silence, a low growl escapes his lips. "Physical or not, that will never happen to you again. I promise."

I can't seem to move when we lock eyes again. The determined expression on his face surprises me. He doesn't want to head for the hills? Or is he just being nice? He seems to read my expression all too well and shuts down all of my negative thoughts in two sentences.

"I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, sweetheart." He pulls me into his side and kisses the top of my head. "Can I ask you something else? It's a little off-topic, but it's been bothering me for a while."

I nod my head, too consumed by the comfort I was feeling by being in his arms.

"What happened with David?"

I tense. The feeling of comfort and happiness leaves me and is replaced by rage and betrayal. Too afraid of what will show if I pull away from him, I stay put.

"Ava?" he prods, rubbing his hands up and down my frozen back.

I know he isn't going to drop it, so I nod and decide to tell him something. "We dated for three years."

"Why did you break up? I just want to help.” The kindness in his voice hurts.

"Mutual decision," I say shortly. "We just knew that it was time to go our separate ways." The lie burns my throat.

"Okay." The tone of his voice tells me he doesn't believe me. I mean, I wasn't very convincing, but it's what I have to do. Maybe I'll tell him someday. It's just not the right time. It's too early—too embarrassing.

"Enough of the serious talk. Let's go do something," I blurt out and pull myself away from Oakley so that I can look at him properly.

"Are you asking me on a date, Octavia?" he teases, eyebrows raised.

"Yes. Yes, I am. Shall we go?" I stand, offering him my hands to pull him up. He takes my hands and I yank him up.

"We shall," he winks and swiftly laces our fingers together.

---