Wreck Me (Nova #4)(37)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

I skid down the sloped backyard, chasing after her. “And that’s why what?”

“Why did you stop the kiss?” she asks accusingly.

I wince at the memory of the kiss. “That’s kind of a personal question.”

“Yeah, but I need to know.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been pushing him toward you for the last week, and I’m starting to wonder just how badly I messed up.”

I pull my sunglasses back over my eyes. “Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.”

She reaches into her pocket for a pack of gum. “Yeah, but you gave off a good vibe.”

“You believe people do that?” I ask, moving my ponytail away from my sweaty neck and fanning my damp skin with my hand.

She unwraps a piece of gum. “Yeah, kind of.” She pops the piece of gum into her mouth and chews it for a moment. “I’d like to believe I’m a good judge of character, so I need to know.”

“Why I stopped the kiss with Tristan?” I check to make sure I’m following her. When she nods, I begrudgingly sigh, knowing I’m going to give her what she’s asking for even though I really don’t want to. “I did it for a lot of reasons, but the main one was because I don’t trust my judge of character when it comes to men.” I touch the bottom of my shirt that covers the most severe of my scars.

“Tristan’s a good person,” she says as she chucks the gum wrapper into the trashcan.

“I think I knew—know that. I just have trust issues.” With men. With myself. With life. “But I need to make sure he’s okay. I want to… to be his friend. And yours too.” I smile so she knows I’m being authentic.

She contemplates what I’ve said. “You promise you won’t hurt him?”

I nod. “I would never hurt anyone intentionally.”

She carefully considers my answer before she sticks out her hand. “Give me your phone.”

Puzzled, I hand it over. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to type in the address of the motel we’re staying at.” She swipes her finger across the screen then presses a few buttons before giving me my phone back. “I’m almost positive he’ll be there. And I think it would be good for him if you visited, as long as your intentions are good.”

I tuck my phone into my pocket, unsure how to react. I wasn’t planning on going to visit him, just checking to make sure he’s okay. “Okay… but I should probably go finish work first.”

She waves me off. “I’ll cover for you.”

“Are you sure?” Because I’m not.

“Yes. Positive.”

“Okay.” I apprehensively nod then start toward the parking area out front, baffled, not just because I’m going but because I feel a pull to go… Well, in the direction of my Jeep at least.

“And Avery?” Nova calls out as she rushes after me.

I pause before turning around. “Yeah.”

She checks from left to right as she hurries up to me. When she’s inches away, she leans in and lowers her voice. “Tristan said that three months ago you found some… stuff on him.”

“You mean drugs?” I ask quietly.

She nervously nods. “So you know his problem is more than just alcohol, then?”

Boy, do I.

“I do to an extent. But we don’t know each other very well.” Which is true. The main thing driving me toward Tristan is this crazy idea that sometimes dreams aren’t dreams. And sometimes death isn’t just death. That they both have a deeper meaning and purpose. And that Tristan has temporarily become the focus of that meaning and purpose like Jax and Mason usually are. How this happened, I have no idea.

As Nova fiddles with a leather band on her wrist, I notice that she has a tattoo underneath it—Never Forget—along with a scar. “Just know that Tristan slips up a lot and he might have slipped up the last couple of nights, so just be prepared.”

I agonizingly recollect all the times I saw my mother doped up and how terrible of a person it made her. “He’s high now?”

She swiftly shakes her head. “No, just hung over. Quinton’s watching him today, so hopefully he’ll be pretty decent by the time you get there.”

I almost tell her that maybe I shouldn’t go. That I’m in over my head. That, if Quinton’s there, Tristan doesn’t need me.

I should stay away.

I really should.

Walk away.

But Nova’s looking at me with such hope in her eyes, and I swear I hear a silent cry from somewhere.

Help me.

Help him.

Help someone.

Is this what I’m supposed to be doing?

I’m not sure if it’s Nova that needs my help, the situation, or if I can even help at all, but regardless I find myself agreeing to go check on Tristan. Then I head for my car, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into and if I can handle it.

If I want to handle it.

***

I stop at a store and buy some cupcakes on the way to the motel. Why? I have no idea other than I feel the need for procrastinating and sugar. I’m nervous and I almost turn around and drive back home several times, which is saying a lot considering the motel is only a couple of miles away from the construction site. I have so much going on already. School. Work. The Habitat for Humanity house. Mason. Jaxon. Bills. Sobriety. The future. The list is endless, and adding more to it seems ludicrous. But the thing that keeps me from completely turning the car around each time is the feeling that I need to go make sure he’s okay, something no one ever did for me in the past. If someone would have, I might not be in this moment right now.

It’s strange when I really think about it, how each decision I’ve made has altered my life in one way or another, taken me on another path. Life is so full of twists and turns that map our future. Some we take on our own and others we’re yanked onto. Right now, I feel like I’m taking a new turn toward…

Well, I’m not sure yet.

Nor am I positive if I’m taking it on my own.

But I’m anxious to find out.

After forty-five minutes of procrastination, I pull up to a motel that reminds me of the apartments in The Subs—all worn out, overused, abused, in desperate need of some fixing up. The appearance makes it even more difficult to get out.

I stay in the car for quite a few minutes, unable to climb out, yet unable to drive away. I need advice, or guidance, or something, but all I receive is sunlight, a shitty motel, and the stench of vanilla air freshener.