Wreck Me (Nova #4)(11)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

“I’m fine.” Before either of them can say anything else, I lock myself in the bathroom.

I really wish they’d stop looking at me like that. It doesn’t help me stay clean, nor does it erase the last couple months of living back at home in Star Grove. I only visited because my mother begged me to be present for when Ryder’s new tombstone got put on her grave. There was already one on it, but my mother decided Ryder needed a larger stone with a more elaborate inscription. As much as I needed to visit Ryder’s grave, I wish I’d never gone back. Because it wasn’t just about going home. It was about returning to the past.

The past is never good, and the visit left me more ruined than I already was, clawing at the edge of the cliff, ready to fall again. I’m really starting to question if I can be one of those people who stay clean for the rest of their lives. I’ve had to go through detox twice already and the idea of snorting a line still makes my mouth salivate. I crave the numbness. Crave the desolation from my mother’s final look before I left. The one that silently said: Why couldn’t it have been you that night in the car with Quinton.

But I haven’t broken yet.

I want to, though.

Even if it means severe consequences.

Consequences I’m too familiar with.

Like the Hepatitis that took six months of treatment to get cured of. Then there was the day I almost overdosed. Part of me wishes I’d never come back, but the other part of me knows I begged for a second chance, begged for someone to help me find my way back. Not sure if anyone heard me, but I’m alive. As for the finding my way back part…

I feel so lost all the time.

All are reasons to just say no.

But I want to say yes.

It’s always there, an echo in my mind, calling out to me.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Telling me that I don’t have a reason to stop.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

I’m a lonely bastard.

Sighing, I put on my work jeans and then tug an old T-shirt over my head. Then I force myself to be as happy as possible as I return to Nova and Quinton, but it’s not easy.

By the time we’re walking to the site where the home is being built, just a little over a mile away, I’m wishing I never came back to North Carolina in the first place. It’s not like I’ve ever been into building houses or devoting my life to a good cause. Habitat for Humanity is Nova and Quinton’s thing, and I’m just the tag along, but I didn’t have anything else to do. I’m taking a few online courses and that’s about it. That’s my life.

I haven’t even had sex in over four months, but that’s because I haven’t been in any crackhouses, which is where I’ve always done hookups. That’s the thing with me. When I’m sober, my life just sort of stands still and when I’m high, I become someone else who doesn’t feel like such an invisible fuck up. Even if that someone is a cracked-out asshole falling into an empty abyss, it sometimes feels better to be someone that exists enough to fall into an abyss.

“You know what we should do?” Nova asks, ripping me from my thoughts.

My boots scuff against the gravel on the side of the road as I glance up to Nova. She’s in front of me, holding hands with Quinton, and looking over her shoulder at me.

“What’s with the staring?” I ask.

Her smile is as bright as the sun. Always is. “I was thinking that after we go find jobs tonight, we should go see Avery.”

“Who’s Avery?” I play dumb, not wanting Nova to notice my lack of enthusiasm about getting a job or my excitement at the mention of Avery. I don’t even want to notice my excitement over Avery. Don’t want to acknowledge that during our brief encounter three months ago, Avery managed to get under my skin more than Nova used to do.

If I’m being honest with myself, I’d admit I haven’t stopped thinking about Avery since the first and only time we hung out. She’s one of the most fascinating people I’ve crossed paths with, and the fact that I was able to talk to her without being under the influence says a lot about her.

At first I’d thought Avery seemed super happy, then I got a glimpse of something that could only be described as ugly when Conner, her ex-husband, showed up and yelled at her. I intervened and to this day I still don’t know why.

The intervening wasn’t where Avery really left the deep, unforgettable mark on my memory, though. That came at the end of the night when she’d found the bag of crystal I’d been carrying and had accidentally dropped it. Instead of ignoring it or being disgusted by my behavior, she’d given me a choice.

Take it.

Or not.

I’d chosen the ‘or not’ and am still choosing it for reasons that are unclear. Part of me wanted to explore the whole Avery infatuation I was starting to develop because it had to mean something, especially if she could think of me as someone other than the fucked-up, ex-druggie. And she kissed me that night… without wanting drugs or sex in return, nor was I asking her for drugs. That had never happened to me before.

I went looking for her the next day to ask her questions about that night, questions I still think about all the time.

Is she okay?

How did she end up with a guy like Conner?

Who is Avery?

Why did she have the no guy rule?

Why did she look at me with no judgment?

And I mean really look at me?

I think about it every day and every night.

I wonder all the time what she’s doing.

Wonder if she ever thinks about me.

If she still sees me.

I never did find her, though, and I’ve painfully learned that sometimes things aren’t better left unsaid.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Tristan.” Nova gives me a hard stare. “I know you remember who Avery is.”

I tap my finger on my lip, still feigning stupidity. “Nope, not ringing a bell, but then again, a lot of chicks have been through my life. Sometimes it’s hard to keep them straight.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know I know you’re a lot of talk, right? That you’re really a nice guy underneath that asshole demeanor.” She turns around and shuffles backwards to face me. “And I have moments that prove it—moments where you were a super nice guy.”

Quinton’s looking straight ahead at the desolate road and squinting against the sunlight, his shoulders vibrating, probably from laughing his ass off while attempting to do it in silence.

I pretend to be more irate than I am. “Okay, so what if I know who you’re talking about? It doesn’t mean I’m going to go see her again. We hung out for one night.” Just one. “I barely know her.” True. “You can’t have feelings for someone you don’t even know.” You just can’t.