Page 45 of Keeping Ava

“Any minute now, Ava. Trust him to know what he’s doing.” Dropping my towel, I slip a pair of yellow polka dot boy shorts up my hips and then a pair of his boxers that I stole while washing his laundry. A tight tank top with a built-in bra in the same black as his underwear finishes my attire.

It’s comfy. Makes me feel closer to him somehow to wear something of his.

A quick spritz of body spray, my hair thrown up in a messy bun, and I am out the door and heading back to his kitchen. Well, almost—my favorite pair of socks, fuchsia and fuzzy, go on my feet first while I head to take out the trash.

There’s a trash chute near the center of this floor, and I feel okay throwing it out by myself, knowing that Elijah went after Jason. That while I hate him being anywhere near Jason, Eli knows where he is, and that’s not in this building.

Before opening the door, I look out through the peephole and see nothing. I stand there for a few minutes just looking, watching, and after there’s no movement for several minutes, I open the door.

For some reason, the moment I step through the threshold, my skin breaks out in goose bumps and my breathing picks up. Foreboding takes hold, and I pause just a few steps away. There’s something in the air all around me, something that makes me want to run back inside and lock myself away.

I’m being ridiculous. No one is here.

I know this. Can see this.

“Just take the garbage and get back inside. No one is here. You are safe.” Nodding to myself, I take a second to inhale deeply, letting out each breath slowly to help calm my nerves. Five times I do this, and it’s on the last one that I begin to feel a bit of ease seep through.

My heart loses its galloping beat, the harsh thumping slows as my shaking limbs cease to twitch. Freaking out while Elijah isn’t here won’t help me or this situation, and I repeat that thought along with my mantra enough that I’m able to follow through with the simple task of dumping the garbage.

Sure, I rush to do it, but I focus on the positive: that I did it.

It takes me longer to clear my head than to do the task, and within minutes I’m back inside. The soft thud of the door closing is a welcomed noise, and more so is the click of the lock that follows. There’s two of them that I turn before setting the alarm and walking toward his living room.

On the way there, I make a quick pit stop inside his kitchen and grab a can of Coke. I haven’t had dinner, and eating something right now isn’t going to happen with my nerves shot, so drinking something with sugar is the next best thing.

And it’s while I’m in the kitchen that the house phone rings.

My first thought is that it has to be Elijah, and I rush to grab the cordless device from its place inside his office. The room is dark, and I pause near the entrance. That’s not how I left it.

Before taking a shower, I made sure that every room had one light on.

“What the fuck?” I whisper, heart racing as I reach for the small switch on the wall to my left. Finding it isn’t an issue, and within seconds I flip it. Nothing happens, though, and I do it again. Off and on. Off and on. “Lightbulb must’ve gone out.”

It’s the only plausible explanation, and I step further inside to reach the still-ringing phone. I’m just a few steps away when it stops, only to start again within seconds.

Grabbing it off the corner of his desk, I hit the talk button. “Hello?”

“Ava.” Elijah’s voice comes through the line like a soothing balm. At once, my body calms and my breathing begins to settle. Just hearing him—knowing he’s okay—gives me back the calm he took with him when he walked out the door. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m...I’ve—”

“Everything is okay.” Christ, how I needed to hear those words. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be back a bit later than anticipated, but it’ll be tonight. Don’t wait for me to eat.”

“And you promise all is good?” Taking the phone with me, I walk out of the dark room and head straight for the couch in the living room. The early evening sky is gorgeous this time of day and I sit, looking out as we talk. “No reason for me to worry?”

What I really want to ask is if they have Jason. If my nightmare is over.

“None. I swear.” There are a few voices coming closer and then a few doors close, like that of a car. My suspicions are confirmed when the engine of a loud car starts and then a siren. “I’ll call you as soon as we get back. Stay inside and wait for me,” he yells out, and I nod as if he could see me. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes. I’ll stay in…just come back safe.”

“I’ll always come back.” That’s the last thing he says before the click signaling the end of our call follows.

His words give me reassurance, and I listen. Truly let them settle into my heart and mind as I grab the remote and turn the TV on, flipping through a few channels until I find one of my favorite shows playing a marathon. Dr. Pol is the bomb and I let his amazingness take me away—distract me with the cuteness of the state fair and the kiddos with their pets.

I make it through four episodes before my eyes become heavy. Each tick of the clock is a struggle to stay awake, and as the intro to another episode begins, I give in.

Sleep takes me, but it’s restless. Uncomfortable.

---