Chapter Twenty-Two

Gavin

"I'll grab the stuff out of the dryer," Annabelle hollers the moment the appliance chimes in completion.

I finish putting the last of the dirty dishes from lunch inside the dishwasher and start a cycle. Once that's done, I return to my bedroom and grab the load of towels that'll go into the washer next. After flipping the clothes to the dryer and starting the towels, I join Annabelle in the kitchen, where she's folding the load already completed.

"What time are we going to Grandma and Grandpa's?" she asks, folding a pair of my lounge pants.

"About four. Aunt Ginger and the kids are coming too."

"Uncle Paul?" she asks.

"Nope, they've got a birthday party to go to, but Great-Grandma Zelda will be there."

"Really? Do you think she'll invite her friend, Betty? Last time she did that, Miss Rutledge came too," Annabelle states happily, her brown eyes filled with delight.

"I'm not sure," I reply. I can't just tell her no, that Ava isn't driving her grandma anywhere tonight, because then she'd want to know how I know. And that's a whole mess I don't want to get into.

"Well, I'm hoping she is. I like her."

I flash her a small grin, but don't reply. Mostly because I'm afraid my reply will go something like this. I really like her too. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've fallen in love with her. I've been spending a lot of time with her without you or anyone else knowing, and she now consumes me. My thoughts, my dreams, my fantasies. She's all I think about, all I want.

"Whose is this?"

I'm pulled out of my thoughts by my daughter's question, and stare dumbfoundedly at what she's holding up.

Fuck.

It's Ava's sweater.

How in the hell did that get mixed up with my laundry? I remember setting it aside, wanting to make sure it stayed in my closet until I could get it back to her. Yet, here it is, being waved in front of my face like a red flag.

My throat is dry, my tongue heavy. "I'm not sure," I reply, the lie like a punch to the gut.

Before I can reach for the sweater, Annabelle says, "This looks like the one Miss Rutledge was wearing at school yesterday."

Fuck. Me.

"Yeah? Well, I'm not sure where that came from," I state with an awkward chuckle. "Maybe it was mixed in with my work stuff from the truck. It could be Max's girlfriend's shirt." When she doesn't seem convinced, I quickly add, "Or maybe Grandma's. You know how she leaves stuff lying around every now and again."

I can feel her gaze on me, but I refuse to look up. I keep folding my clothes as if my life depends on it. When I continue to feel the weight of her stare, I look up, a big smile plastered on my lips. Reaching for the sweater that's still in her hands, I finally ask, "Are you sure it's not yours or your mom's? Maybe it got mixed up in the clothes you brought."

I know I'm reaching for straws here, but I can't help it. As much as I'd love to tell her whose sweater it really is—or confirm her suspicions—I can't. Not without talking to Ava first, and I'm certain she's not wanting my daughter to know. The risk is too high, the chance of her accidentally mentioning it to someone else—her mom, another student, anyone —is too great, and while I'd like to think I can trust my eleven-year-old with this secret, I'd never put her in any predicament. I'd never want her to feel like she has to lie to someone to keep my secret quiet.

"Dad, this is too big for me, and I'm pretty sure Mom would never wear something like this," she replies honestly. Internally, I wince. Annabelle isn't meaning to insult Ava, but I understand what she's saying. Ava wears sensible, comfortable, modest clothing, while Julia is more of the flaunt what your mama gave you type.

"Yeah, you're right. Must be Grandma's," I state, ripping the sweater out of her hand and tossing it aside.

Annabelle nods, returning her attention to what's left to fold. I'm so grateful she doesn't comment about the sizing. While she noted the fact the sweater's too big for her, she didn't pick up that it's too small for my mom. Mom isn't a big woman, but there's a difference between her large tops and Ava's small ones.

I gather up the folded clothes, as well as Ava's sweater, and take them to my bedroom. It only takes a few minutes to put everything away, and I make sure to add Ava's sweater to the top of my closet. This way, it's out of sight, out of mind, and hopefully, my daughter doesn't ask any more questions before I can return it to its rightful owner.

But I'll never forget the way she looked this morning when she left, wearing my long-sleeved shirt from last night. After our shower, and another round of unforgettable sex, I slipped my shirt over her head and insisted she wear it home. There were no complaints from her either, since she seemed to enjoy having it on. I just don't think she planned to leave her sweater behind, and I know I sure as hell didn't plan to leave it where my daughter could find it.

I take a quick look around my bedroom, seeing nothing that belongs to Ava, yet seeing her everywhere. In my bed, standing in front of my dresser, in the bathroom as she got ready to leave. Her image is imprinted on my life, and I realize instantly I don't want it any other way.

She's mine.

For as long as she'll have me.

She just doesn't really know it yet.

"Hi, Grandma," I greet, smiling as I enter the dining room.

"Hello, handsome. How are you?" she asks, patting the table beside where she sits. "Have a seat."

Annabelle is already playing with her cousins, so I take the opportunity to sit and spend a little time with my only remaining grandparent. "How have you been?"

"Right as rain," she insists. "How's my great-granddaughter?"

She's excellent. She'll come in and say hello shortly. She wanted to show Bethany some of the crafts she's been making."

Grandma waves her hand. "They're so energetic at that age and always going somewhere. Can't blame them for not having time for us old people."

I scoff at her statement. "We always have time for you," I insist, leaning over and kissing her aged cheek.

"I know you do, Gavin. You're a great young man," she says, offering me a grandmotherly smile. "You're my favorite, you know."

I chuckle at her statement. She's been telling me that since I was younger, insisting I keep it a secret. I'm the youngest, the last grandchild, and my grandma's always had a soft spot for me. Much like she did Paul, who is the oldest, and my sister, Ginger, who is the only girl. So, honestly, I'm certain there isn't real favorites, but I humor her just the same.

"You're just saying that because I come over and mow your grass."

She laughs. "Well, I do admit, that elevates you to a higher level, but that's not the only reason." She sighs and takes a sip of her coffee. "How have things been with you?"

"Busy," I reply, even though work isn't quite as hectic as it will be when the winter snow and cold finally thaw for the year. "Work's going good."

"I'm sure it is, but that's not what's putting that smile on your face."

The moment her statement registers, I pause. "What?"

"No man seems as happy as you appear thanks to work going well. That's the look of a man in love."

My throat goes Sahara dry, and it's suddenly hard to swallow. "I'm not…I'm not in love, Grandma."

Lies.

She just smiles widely. "Oh."

Clearly, she doesn't believe me.

I'm saved from having to dig deeper into this conversation by my mom entering the dining room. "I made a cherry chip pie," Mom announces to me as she leans over and gives me a hug.

"That sounds delicious. I'll take two slices," I state, kissing her cheek. "Your pies are the best."

"Kiss-ass," Mom mutters with a chuckle. "But thank you. We'll be ready to eat in about ten minutes."

"Grandma!" Annabelle comes running into the dining room, throwing her arms around my mom's waist.

"Hello, sweet girl. How is school going?" my mom asks Annabelle.

"It's great. Oh," she says, digging into her bag of stuff she brought to show Bethany. "I brought your shirt." She pulls the sweater out, handing it to my mom.

Mom looks at it with curiosity on her face. "This isn't mine," she tells Annabelle, and I swear, if the floor had the ability to open up and swallow me, I'd let it.

Hell, I'd jump in.

Annabelle just looks up at her grandma with confusion. "But…Dad said it must be yours. It was in the laundry."

That's when I feel all eyes on me. My mind goes completely blank. I have no clue what to do or say, because I know whatever comes out of my mouth will either be a lie—which I don't want to do—or will be the truth—something I'm not prepared to say.

Deflection it is…

"Interesting. Did you show Bethany that new game you wanted to play?" I ask, reaching out and grabbing the sweater again. I don't even want to know how she found and retrieved it from my closet shelf, but that discussion will have to be tabled for later.

Annabelle just stares at me. "We're going to play after dinner." Her eyebrows are drawing together as she asks, "So it's Max's girlfriend's? That's weird."

I shrug, shoving the sweater beneath the table onto my lap. "Max is weird."

"Dinner's almost ready," my mom says. "Why don't you run and see if your cousins are ready to eat?"

Annabelle takes off to the living room, and I feel two sets of laser-pointer eyes staring straight at me.

"I knew it," Grandma boasts, clapping her hands proudly.

"Knew what?" Mom asks.

"That Gavin is in love. He's practically glowing, don't you think?"

I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. "Can we not do this here?" I ask softly, especially since my sister is in the kitchen and my nieces, nephew, and daughter, as well as dad and brother-in-law are all in the living room around the corner.

"Fine, fine, but don't think we haven't noticed the fact you're not denying it."

I sigh, resolved.

"Is this the woman you were buying wine and flowers for?" Mom asks, clearly not caringasked to table the conversation.

"What?" I ask, choking on air.

She shrugs. "Well, you were buying wine a few weeks back and told me you had a date. And then Emily's aunt Ruth saw you in the flower shop yesterday. Were you sending flowers to this mystery woman?"

"It's gonna come out eventually," Grandma announces, sipping her coffee without a care in the world.

I exhale deeply and rub my throbbing temple. "It will come out, yes, when we're both ready to share. Until then, keep your nosiness in your own lanes."

Mom throws up her hands. "Not trying to butt in, just curious as to why you're so secretive. And for the record, I think it's great. You haven't really dated much since you and Julia split, so I'm all for you finding someone, falling in love, and giving me more grandbabies."

"You're having a baby?!"

I glance over my mom's shoulder and find my sister standing there, wide-eyed and looking like she's ready to burst. "No, I'm not having a baby, Jesus," I groan, standing up and meeting all three of their gazes. "Yes, I'm seeing someone," I start quietly. "Annabelle doesn't know. I'll tell her—and all of you—when we're both ready. We're taking it slow. Very slow. End of story."

"Don't get upset, honey. We all want what's best for you."

"I know, and I appreciate that, really. When I have more to share, I will. Promise."

They all nod in understanding, and even though I'm certain they all want to press me for more details, they abide by my wishes and end the discussion.

Conversation flows around me as we eat dinner, but my mind is a million miles away. It's on Ava and the fact my family has figured out something's different with me.

Ava.

That's the difference.

She's a game-changer.

After dinner, I head to the kitchen to help my mom clean up. Annabelle is with my sister, showing her how to make flowers out of Kleenex, so I take the opportunity to steal a few minutes with Mom.

"Dad's back seems to be feeling better," I say, drying off a large bowl and putting it away in the cabinet.

"Much. He's been going to that chiropractor in Hudson the last few weeks. He's done wonders at helping alleviate the pain and discomfort he's been having. He says it's just going to take some time."

"I'm just glad he didn't break anything when he fell," I say, recalling that morning my mom called me. Dad was shoveling snow and slipped. He went down hard on his back and took an ambulance ride to make sure nothing was broken. It wasn't, thankfully, but he put an end to snow removal for a while.

"You and me both. It's been difficult enough to keep him comfortable and relaxed. You know your father. He wants to be up and doing something all the time, so for him to be forced to sit idle hasn't been easy for him."

"Or you," I add with a teasing tone.

"I love that man to death, but he's driving me bonkers."

Smiling, I take the casserole pan she's just washed and dry it off. "Let me know if I can help. Annabelle and I can come over and visit more often," I tell her, instantly feeling guilty for not offering to help more than I have been. I took on their snow removal so Dad wasn't tempted to do it himself, and have been helping anywhere else I can, but I have to just show up and do it. They never ask for assistance, despite Dad's back injury. Mom just steps up and does what she needs to do to get the work done. It was an argument for me to take over the shoveling, but when I wouldn't relent, she finally conceded to let me do it for a while.

"We're just fine, dear. Besides, you've been busy yourself lately," she replies with a knowing grin.

The look of excitement on her face makes me groan. I suppose I did walk right into that one. "Doesn't matter. I'd make time to do whatever you need."

She reaches over and places her wet, soapy hand on my arm. "I know that, and we appreciate it. We're managing just fine. Paul came over last weekend and took care of that limb that fell in the backyard. I didn't even have a chance to mention it to you before he showed up and cut it up."

My brother has a busy schedule, but he's always willing to drop what he's doing to help Mom and Dad. "I'm glad. I noticed he went ahead and took the firewood with him," I tease.

"Of course he did. Free firewood for the fireplace," Mom replies, giving me a look out of the corner of her eye. "Tell me about her."

I exhale but not out of irritation. I realize quickly I want to talk about Ava, even if I can't tell her exactly who I'm referring to. "She's…amazing. Simply the kindest, most beautiful person I've ever known, inside and out."

Mom smiles. "I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks. I'm pretty happy too. We're taking it very slow, like I said earlier. She has…rules. And until it's time, we're just keeping things on the down-low, but I'm hoping we'll take it to the level soon."

"Good. It does this mom heart good to see you smiling real, genuine smiles again. After the whole mess with Julia, I wasn't sure you'd ever risk your heart again. I'm glad you are, and I don't mind you taking it slow, for whatever reason. Just know I'm here, waiting to meet her when the time comes."

"You will," I assure her.

"Good. And don't worry about Annabelle. She'll love whoever you love, simply because you've taught her how to open her heart, give and receive love. She has every single one of your good qualities, Gavin. I know it hasn't been easy, but you've done an amazing job raising her. Julia too. I may not like that woman very much for the added stress and bullshit she's done to you, but I can appreciate how she's co-parented my granddaughter, even if I wanted to wring her neck a few times over the years."

I give my mom a big smile. "I love you," I say, throwing my arms around her shoulders and giving her a hard squeeze.

"I love you too. Now, let's get these dishes done so you can get out of here. Maybe there's time for you to go see your lady friend. You know, convince her to break all the rules. I'd like another grandbaby someday."

I chuckle and shake my head. "You're relentless."

She just grins up at me. "Where do you think you get it from?"

Don't I know it.