The Impact of You(37)
Author: Kendall Ryan

All too soon, it’s late afternoon, and Avery and I prepare to leave. Jessica hugs us each one last time with teary eyes and tells Avery to email or call anytime. As soon as we’re outside the door, I pull Avery into my arms. Her breath releases in a sigh and she relaxes against me. “I’m proud of you,” I whisper. Her arms tighten around my waist.

Avery’s silent and contemplative on the drive to the hotel. We plan to spend one night in Denver and then make the long drive back on Sunday.

When we reach the hotel, Avery looks exhausted. “Thanks for being here.”

I can’t help but reach out to touch her. I push the hair back from her face, stroking her cheek softly. “Anytime, Whistle. You doing okay?”

She smiles at the nickname and nods. “Yeah. It went much better than I expected.”

I have to agree, and I’m sure she was mentally preparing herself for the worst too. Avery yawns loudly and I chuckle. She has a content smile on her face, but I can tell today emotionally drained her, and if she was as restless as I was last night, she’s got to be exhausted. “Why don’t you go take a nap, and then we’ll go out to dinner later?”

She nods. “Okay.”

We part ways, Avery goes into her room and I head into mine. I lie down on the bed trying to clear my head. Only I can’t concentrate. All I can think about is the girl on the other side of the door, and wonder if maybe she needs me. I shuffle to the door separating our rooms and knock softly. It opens right away, like Avery was waiting right there.

“Hi,” she says, softly.

“Hey. You want some company?”

She nods and motions me inside. Avery collapses onto the bed and scoots over, making room for me. We lie side by side and stare up at the bumpy stucco ceiling.

“Today was pretty heavy, huh?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“How do you feel?”

She takes her time responding. “It went better than I ever hoped for. She’s nice and normal.”

I nod, encouraging her. I want to reach out and take her hand again, but I hesitate. I don’t want her thinking I’m in here for any other reason than just to be here for her and to talk. “Is she what you imagined? You look just like her.”

Avery sighs and continues, “Yeah, that was kinda cool. I always wondered if I looked like her. But that sadness inside me didn’t just vanish when I met her. I guess you can’t erase nineteen years’ worth of being absent – of giving me up in the first place.”

This time I don’t hesitate. I take her hand and lace her fingers between mine. She turns her head to the side and gives me a shaky smile. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “Yeah. I didn’t want to ask her about any of that this first time. I didn’t want to spoil the moment, you know?”

I give her hand a squeeze and wait for her to continue.

“And I guess it just cemented that my dads really are my family.”

“They love you,” I say, remembering the photos I saw of Avery as a little girl in between the two beaming-with-pride men. She was clearly adored and very much wanted by them.

“I know. They wanted to come today. And so did Madison and Noah, for that matter.”

“But you let me,” I say.

Avery doesn’t respond, she just watches me while the weight of the moment between us blooms into more. The air around us is heavy, and I wish things could go back to being easy and carefree. But I know she needs me now more than ever.

A single tear slips from the corner of her eye. I’m not surprised; I’d been wondering how she was still holding it together. Dampness swims in her eyes, but she doesn’t look away. I rub the back of her hand lightly with my thumb. “It’s okay. Let it out. I’ve got you.”

She does, turning to fit herself in my arms, and sobs into my neck, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. Each cry that breaks through her throat cuts me open. I hold her through it all, knowing there’s no place I’d rather be.

Chapter 29

Avery

I sob for all the lost time, the memories that we’d never create, the mother that abandoned me as a baby. I cry for a life that could have been. For the choice my mom had to make and at such a young age, and for the circumstances that led to that decision.

Life is a crapshoot. We’ve all been dealt a hand that we have no choice but to play – my mom by getting pregnant too young, me with simply the circumstances I was born into.

After meeting her face to face, seeing how normal she is, I’m not immature enough to believe she’d given me up because I was a bad baby. No. She’d made the best decision she could for me and for herself. But that didn’t make this any easier. She’d done the most selfless thing she could do. She’d given me to two loving parents who desperately wanted a child. It broke my heart. There’s grief and loss mixed in with happiness and joy. It’s all too much.

Jase just holds me. He lets me completely fall apart. He doesn’t say anything, other than making calming sounds meant to soothe. He rubs my back in slow circles and rocks me silently against his chest. I can’t even let myself hope what his presence might mean. He’s here now, all solid and warm, and holding me. It’s not nearly enough, but it’ll do. For now.

By the time I’m all cried out, my throat is raw and Jase’s T-shirt is soaked with my tears, but he doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about this shirt. His hand continues its soothing path, rubbing slow circles between my shoulder blades while my breathing returns to normal.

Jase

When her tears finally stop, little unsteady hiccups continue to rasp in her chest for several minutes more. Avery eventually lifts her head from my shoulder and blinks up at me, wiping away the remnants of her makeup.

“I’m sorry,” she croaks, her voice raw from crying.

“No. Don’t be. I’m glad you let it out, and I’m glad I could be here for you.”

She nods. “Thanks, Jase.”

“Anytime, Whistle.”

Confusion crosses her face at hearing the nickname I haven’t used in a while. She’s wondering the same thing I am – about us. About where we stand now.

She sits up on the bed, completely disentangling herself from me. The loss of warmth from her body next to mine is unwelcome, but I resist the urge to tug her back to me.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” she says.

Her face is red, her chest splotchy and her hair is a tangled, matted mess–the strands framing her face slightly damp from her tears. “Yeah, okay.” The warm water will soothe her some, I hope. “I’ll go out and pick us up dinner. We can eat here in bed if you’re okay with that, and watch TV.”