“Oh, now you’re in a chatty mood.”
“Stop fucking around,” I growl.
Gavin tosses his hands up. “She’s wrecked, brother. I let her cry on my shoulder while reciting our favorite Friends quotes. Is that what you need to hear?”
That knowledge only succeeds in dumping another ton of guilt on my toppling pile. I can barely inhale under the weight. “What should I do?”
“Fix it, you idiot.”
“Your sympathy is astonishing,” I spit.
“I’m not here to coddle you. What’s the new plan?”
“I don’t have one.”
He points at me, tacking on an unwavering stare. “I have a rough draft of my best man speech ready to go. Don’t ruin this for me.”
I arch a brow. “You’re a tad premature. She won’t talk to me, Gav. Not that I expect her to.”
“You have to earn that shit. Be persuasive with your swoony self. I’ve heard what you’re capable of.”
It’s uplifting to imagine Audria sharing some of my finer moments, even the slightest bit. “That proves I’m not completely worthless.”
“I never said you were. I think of you as a very jagged cut of stone that has the potential to shine. The value of polishing such a lumpy clump that currently resembles poop is your call.”
“I’m not even sure what to do with that,” I tell him honestly.
Gavin sighs. “That’s part of the problem. You should’ve saved the singing for a rainy day.”
“I can make other gestures,” I grumble.
“Don’t send flowers or dick pics. That’s lame.”
“I wasn’t going to.” Although, she might’ve appreciated a snapshot of my cock at one point.
“You’re still a shitty liar.” He chuckles.
“What do you suggest?”
He gives a quick jerk of his head. “Nice try. You’re in the doghouse, not me. Be creative. In the meantime, get some knee pads and brush up on your begging skills. Prepare a speech or three. Kneel until your balls shrivel and vanish altogether. You won’t need ’em without her anyway.”
“Awesome,” I say with a bitter lilt. But that gets the rusty gears in my brain turning. For now, I grab my cell and tap the text icon.
Me: Hey. Hello. Just saying hi. And for the record, I’m not giving up until you talk to me.
Even if she just says fuck off or something along those lines. It’s what I deserve. That doesn’t mean it won’t hurt, but I can’t stand the idea of her hating me. I click send and watch as my words morph into a blue bubble. That message joins the fifteen others I sent before. All of them left unread with zero chance of response. Her clear refusal to answer won’t deter me.
Gavin lifts his chin at my phone. “Any luck?”
“Not yet.”
He brings his mug of beer to his lips. “Keep trying. I have a good feeling.”
I drift a palm across the sore spot of my shredded abdomen. If only I shared the same confidence.
I lower my fist as my latest knock goes unanswered. Not that I’m surprised. This is a similar response to the slew of calls and texts I’ve made in an attempt to connect with Audria. Packages with sentimental items that I’ve dropped off have received the same fate as well. One sliver of light in all this recent darkness is my assumption that she’s accepted the gifts. Otherwise shandy cans, boxes of fish I personally caught and prepared, milk jugs, and sacks of straight-from-the-stalk corn cobs would still be on her porch. That doesn’t mean she didn’t immediately discard my efforts into her dumpster.
That possibility stains my tongue with a bitter tang. I try not to let the defeat show, but I practically leave a bloody trail behind me. Two weeks is too long without hearing her voice. A gust of frigid windchill bites me in the ass, and I shudder against the onslaught. If it weren’t for these sporadic bursts, I could loiter out here all day. Her resolve will weaken eventually, even if it’s just to tell me off.
“She’s not home.”
I turn toward the feminine voice delivering that seemingly helpful piece of intel. Perhaps Audria isn’t avoiding me too aggressively after all. Sondra stands on the sidewalk, offering me a lopsided smile that trembles with sympathy.
I set my latest peace offering—a crate of farm-fresh eggs—on Audria’s stoop and stride toward her waiting neighbor. “Where is she?”
Her grin fades and takes any illusion of comfort with it. “Gone.”
That one word has the impact of a semi crashing through my chest. “When did she leave?”
Sondra laughs. “Not permanently. Just for the day. Bea took her to Des Moines.”
A big city, of course. But I don’t let that knowledge turn my mood sour. I force myself to take a deep breath. The burst of cold air does little to calm my racing thoughts. “Okay, that’s good. I’m glad she’s doing something fun this weekend.”
“You sure do stop by often.” She motions to the box I just delivered.
“I’m trying to make amends. We got into a pretty nasty fight.”
“Well, I bet she’s taking notice. This is a busy time of year with her job.” It’s a brushoff, but I appreciate the effort.
I’ve been tempted to swing by the school, but bothering Audria while she’s teaching seems like crossing a line. A hidden sense warns me that forcing her to face me would be a horrible idea. I listen to that wise voice, albeit unwillingly. The reception I would receive might not be positive—or pleasant—for any unsuspecting bystanders. The last thing I want is to cause a scene and ruin any perceived traction I’ve managed to make.
Another frosty breeze slaps me in the face, as if to yank my damn head from the clouds. How ironic, considering none fill the sky. I tilt my face and confirm that fact for lack of anything better to do. This is apparently how I waste meaningless minutes on end without awareness.
Sondra clears her throat, dragging me out of the daze. I don’t know how my mind wandered to begin with. Sondra stares at
