Page 104 of On the Breakaway

No. It didn’t work. Not even close.

Wyatt settles deeper into his seat. “Let me ask you something.”

“No.”

“After Avery left your room last night, did you or did you not shout her name halfway down the hallway?”

“Then,” he continues before I can answer, “did you or did you not slam the door directly in my face?”

“You interrupted.”

“I interrupted what exactly?”

He’s right. She was leaving whether he knocked or not. Whether I wanted her to or not.

And as strange as it feels to admit, I didn’t want her to.

My silence is answer enough.

Wyatt nods once. “That’s what I thought.”

I hate that he’s right. If last night was supposed to solve this problem, it failed spectacularly.

If it were just sex, it would be simple.

But the sex isn’t what’s replaying in my head.

It’s Avery standing by the door with her dress half-zipped, frozen in place after I said her name, looking at me as if staying was the most dangerous thing she could possibly do.

She treats emotional vulnerability like it’s a contagious disease. It’s the exact opposite of everything I’ve ever wanted, and I don’t know why the hell I keep gravitating toward her anyway.

Before Wyatt can poke at me again, the familiar blue two-story comes into view at the end of the block. Even from half a house away, I can already spot my sister sitting on the front porch. Jace, her husband, had to go into the office today, so she’s flying solo.

Katie’s curled into one of the rocking chairs with Lexie on her lap, the one-year-old wearing a pink sunhat that’s far too big for her head.

When the SUV rolls into the driveway, two tiny figures come tearing across the yard.

“Uncle Gray!”

“Mason, don’t push me.”

“It’s not my fault that I’m faster.”

“No, you’re not.”

I barely get the truck into park before Mason and Jaxon reach us.

The boys crash into my legs the moment I step out.

At four years old, Jaxon manages to talk at a speed that defies human understanding while Mason, a year younger, bounces beside him trying to tell the exact same story at the exact same time.

“We got a frog.”

“It jumped on Mom.”

“And Dad screamed.”

“Like a girl.”