8. Ava

EIGHT

AVA

The week off from chemo was doing Dad a world of good. He'd even got some of his appetite back. When I suggested going out for lunch, he jumped at the chance of getting out of the house for a while. He'd been stuck in there pretty much non-stop since the first chemo treatment—too tired or sick to go out even if he'd wanted to.

"I could go for a burrito. How about you?" he asked.

"Whatever you want, Daddy."

He pumped his fist in the air. "Let's go to Cocina. You know the place?"

I did. It was a little hole-in-the-wall Mexican joint that had been tucked downtown as long as I'd been alive. "Does that little old lady still own it?"

"Sofia? She does, but her daughter Camille runs it now. Sofia's getting on in years. They had a little trouble from the bank a couple of years ago, and we helped her out."

I raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

He sighed. "I didn't break anyone's kneecaps, if that's what you're wondering. I simply…" He paused and stared into space trying to find the right words. "I had a meeting with the president of the bank and told him it was in his best interest to lose those mortgage papers. That a well-to-do bank like his could easily write off a couple of hundred thousand dollars."

I leaned forward, my brow furrowed. "And he went for that?" I snapped my fingers. "No big deal?"

"Well…uh…I guess Sam and I did make sure he knew exactly how good of friends we were with Sofia and her family. We, uh…hey, let's get some food, okay? No need to bore you with family business."

I dropped it. My family was one of the biggest organized crime families in the Midwest. I'd been aware of it since I was a child. They didn't deal in any of the seedier sides of the criminal world that other families did. No human trafficking, no prostitution, no porn. They tended to do more strong-arm, investment-type stuff. Protection services, extortion, money laundering. My father owned a casino out in Nevada. There were forays into drug-running and selling, which I did not like, but I couldn't stop it. It had been part of the family business since my grandfather moved the family to Colorado from Chicago over sixty years ago.

When we were seated at the restaurant, Dad kept moving his shoulders and trying to stretch his back. He sighed and took a drink of water. "The chemo is destroying my body. Everything hurts all the time. My joints ache like I've got arthritis or something."

"It's all part of the process," I said as I dipped a chip into salsa. "It's better than the alternative."

"I hate feeling weak," he said, his hands curling into fists in frustration. "I can't wait for this to all be over."

I reached over and put a hand on his. "I'd rather you be weak for a few months than have you die."

His eyes softened and he looked down at the table. "I'm sorry. I keep going on and on about this. I hate feeling weak. It's not who I am. I don't mean to be a grouch all the time."

My father was the oldest brother, the one designated by my grandfather to take over the business. He was six-foot-four and had played defensive end and fullback in high school. He'd even been considered for some Division Two and Three colleges before he decided to give up football and focus on academics. Part of his reasoning had been that he didn't want to wear out his imposing body on a football career that wouldn't go beyond college. Of all his brothers, he was the biggest and most terrifying to be around. More terrifying when you knew what he was involved in.

After all these years, I still struggled to see my big teddy bear of a father as a crime lord. The one thing that kept me from losing sleep at night from familial guilt was that, for the most part, no innocent people were hurt by my family's doings. Other than the drugs, which I'd been vocal about for years, especially after what had happened with Liam. Uncle Sam had told me that we were slowly "divesting from that monetary stream." Fancy talk that meant they were aiming to stop slinging drugs.

Dad looked back up from the table to say something else, but his expression changed when he looked over my shoulder. "Fucking small towns," he hissed.

I glanced to where his gaze was, and my heart sank. Blayne was getting up from a table. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then dropped it onto a plate. He tossed a few bills on the table for a tip and headed for the door, glancing around the room as he did. His eyes narrowed into slits when he saw us, but he kept walking past us.

Praying that Dad wouldn't say anything, I turned back around to stare at my glass of water as if it held all the answers in the universe. Unfortunately, my prayers went unanswered when Dad lifted a hand and waved Blayne down. He put his hand out to shake. "Blayne? How you been, boy?"

I sighed. This wouldn't go well. Blayne stopped mid-step, looked at my father, then at me, and back at my father. He didn't show my dad the courtesy of shaking his hand, and dead apathy slanted over his eyes.

Dad, unfazed by Blayne's disrespect, lowered his hand and smiled. "You don't look good, boy. Are you all right? Anything I can do for you?"

Blayne sneered and looked up and down at Dad's slightly withered body. "It looks like you need to worry more about yourself than me."

"Blayne," I warned through gritted teeth.

Dad waved it off with a chuckle and looked back at Blayne. "Cancer sucks, but I won't let it take me out."

Blayne's eyebrows bobbed before they settled in a frown. "I wonder if Liam would have preferred dying of cancer rather than being shot full of silver. I guess we'll never get to ask him, will we?"

Without another word, Blayne walked away and shoved the front door hard as he exited.

My entire body shuddered as I sighed. "Dad, I wish you hadn't done that. You knew it was useless."

He shook his head and rested his hands on the table. "Well, it was worth a try. That kid needs to let go of this grudge he has against our family. It's gonna consume him."

"Daddy, he can't let it go," I said, my own irritation bubbling up. "Liam was all he had. And he died working for you. I don't blame him for hating our family." I raised a hand when Dad opened his mouth to argue. "Yes, I know Liam was a man who made his own decisions. You didn't order him to go—he volunteered. Blayne needs to come to terms with his brother's role in his death. I think that's what he really needs to do."

Our food came out before Dad could respond. Thankfully, it was delicious enough to keep our mouths full for the next ten minutes, and we didn't resume our discussion about the Walker brothers. Nothing good would come out of those discussions.

I dropped Dad off at home an hour later.

He squeezed my hand before getting out of the car. "Are you sure you're okay? You haven't seemed like yourself since we saw Blayne at the restaurant."

"I'm fine. Promise. Seeing him brings back old memories, that's all."

He looked at me, trying to determine if I was lying. Finally, he leaned forward and kissed my cheek before getting out.

I waited until he closed the door behind him, then drove to the grocery store. My fridge was stocked, but mostly with junk I had no desire to cook. And I couldn't keep eating out unless I wanted to gain fifty pounds before Dad's treatments were over.

I was pushing my cart down one of the frozen food aisles when a familiar voice called out my name. "Ava?"

I blinked as I recognized the voice, then turned slowly. Was that who I thought it was? At the end of the aisle, holding a box of frozen waffles and smiling at me, was April Knight. My lips broke into a huge grin. "April?"

"Ah!" April screeched and tossed the waffles back in the freezer before running toward me, arms open for a hug.

We collided in an embrace. "It's been forever," I said.

April stepped back and held my shoulders, looking at me. "Years. Oh. My. God."

April and I had been friends in high school. She was two years older—a senior when I was a sophomore—but we'd grown close when we'd taken an art class together. I'd only seen her once or twice since she left town not long after her graduation. We'd stayed in touch via email, text, and social media, but when she got famous, our friendship had faded.

"Why are you back in town?" I asked.

April grimaced even as she grinned. "God, that is…a really long story." Her eyes lit up. "Why don't we have dinner tonight? Catch up?"

There went my plan to eat out less. "Sure," I said. "That sounds wonderful."

We exchanged numbers, and she headed off to the registers to check out. "I'm excited to see you. I can't wait to hang out," she called over her shoulder as she rounded a corner.

I finished shopping, making sure to grab a few bags of salad mix that would, most likely, turn brown and mushy before I ever ate them. It was like a ceremony everyone partook of when shopping. At least, that's what I told myself.

Two hours later, April texted me and asked me to meet her at a little Asian bistro between Lilly Valley and the next town over. When I arrived, she'd already secured a table at the back of the restaurant. The place was packed, so I ordered a plate of steamed dumplings and chicken fried rice as soon as I was seated. April went for a small sushi roll and some kind of spicy noodle dish. Once the orders were placed, we were able to catch up.

"So," I said, taking a sip of the wine she'd ordered before I arrived. "Why are you back in town? Shouldn't you be trotting the globe? Banging sexy movie stars and stuff?"

April rolled her eyes, but there was a light in them as she did. "I've done my fair share of that. I'm pretty much retired now."

That had me choking on my wine. Recovering, I wiped my mouth with a napkin and said, "Retired? Seriously?"

She nodded. "Yeah. It got to be too much." She glanced away, and I could tell she was a little embarrassed. "I'm assuming you heard about that whole scandal a few months back? The nude party pictures, the stalkers, my shithead ex."

My idea of a good time was not watching the tabloids or any TV, really. Though the story had been so big it had been impossible to miss. I nodded. "I saw the tripe they spouted. I actually tried texting you, but the number I had was disconnected."

April grimaced. "Yeah. I lost contact with a lot of people from my past. Even friends like you. It was another reason I was ready to leave that world behind. I'd lost the connection to my real life. My brothers, my nephew…all of it."

Another part of the story trickled up from my memory. "Did I read that your ex had his…uh…his tongue cut out?"

April nodded sadly. "Yeah. He was an asshole, but no one deserves that. It was one of my stalkers who did it." She gave a slight shake of her head. "Enough about that. How are you doing? I heard you'd moved away."

"I did, but I came back to be with my father. He…he was diagnosed with cancer, and I'm here to make sure he gets treated."

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. How's it going?"

"They caught it early. The doctors say the prognosis is good, but my dad's stubborn. I came back because my uncles knew I was the only one who would be able to force him to get the treatments."

"Well, that's something. As long as he's being treated, things will probably be okay," April said.

Our food came out a moment later, and we ate in silence for a few minutes. Then I said, "Do you have a guy yet? I know the pickings in Lilly Valley aren't as good as LA."

April smiled slyly. "Oh yeah. I've got a pretty serious guy. He's the one, no doubt about it."

"The one? Like THE one?"

"Yup."

"Well, who is he? Is he from around here? Do I know him?"

"Probably, yeah. It's Stefan James. My boyfriend from back in high school."

My jaw dropped. "Steff? The guy who dumped you?"

"We made up," April said, smiling around the California roll she popped into her mouth.

It took me a moment, but then I made the connection. That morning in the coffee shop. The Tate guy had mentioned he was in business with Blayne and two other guys. Somebody named Miles and a guy named Steff.

Holy shit. That meant Steff—the Steff I knew—was a shifter.

I remembered Blayne's story about the mating curse, how it had affected his friends, and how the fated mates became shifters themselves.

"Wait," I said, throwing up my hands. "You're with Steff? Does…" I dropped my voice to a whisper and leaned in close. "Does that mean you're a shifter, too?"

April dropped her fork and it clattered across the plate before falling to the floor. Her head jerked up as her eyes locked on mine. "How the fuck do you know about shifters?" she hissed, glancing around the room to make sure no one heard.

"I've known for years. All the way back to my senior year. I dated this guy named Liam Walker. He and his brother were shifters and he told me about the whole deal."

April paled, looking as if she'd been kicked. "Hang on. You were Liam Walker's girlfriend?"

"Yeah, it all happened after you'd left town. I never mentioned it to you, though. You were always busy, and I never wanted to get into silly boyfriend drama."

"That's not important," she said, sliding her plate away, appetite obviously gone as she studied me. "Steff told me a little about it all. If you were Liam's girlfriend, that means you're the one who was fated to Blayne?"

I nodded. "We were. He told me about the curse. Told me he didn't want anything to do with me and demanded that I reject him. I did."

April put a hand to her mouth. "No wonder he has looked awful lately. The other girls and I kept asking, but the guys said it was personal. Something he was dealing with. Oh my God." She shook her head in wonder. "None of us could reject them."

"Was it easy for all of you? Becoming their mates, I mean?"

"Easy?" April chuckled. "Uh, no. I wouldn't call it easy."

She proceeded to tell me an abbreviated version of everything that had happened with Harley, Celina, and herself. All the drama, the danger. I gasped when she told me about the hunters' bloody and brutal attack on Miles, and the difficulty with her forgiving Steff and their mating.

"It all worked out for the best, though. Fate is what it is." April said.

"Well," I said bitterly, "sometimes Fate doesn't know what she's doing. Blayne and I were never meant to be soulmates. Never."

April chewed at her lower lip for a second before speaking. "You know? I probably would have said the same thing about me and Steff a year ago. I would have been wrong. So very, very wrong. I've never been happier. I think…" She paused. "If the two of you really think about it, you might discover what Steff and I did."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Some things are inevitable."

Since that didn't exactly ease my mind, we changed the subject for the rest of our conversation, and when we left, we promised to get together again in the next couple of days. I put on a good facade the rest of dinner, but April's words had wriggled into the recesses of my mind. Her words bounced around in there, making it hard to think.

When I pulled into my driveway, I noticed Blayne sitting out on his porch. Even in the early evening, I could see how pale he was. It worried me. It had been over a week, and he still looked awful. Again, deciding to be the bigger person, I walked to my mailbox and called across the street to him. "Blayne, are you sure you're okay? Can I…get you anything, I guess?"

Blayne glanced up and shook his head. "Why do you care?"

I heaved out a sigh. "I'm not sure if you've noticed, but you're the one who hates me. It's not mutual. I actually care about my fellow human beings, even when they don't care about me."

"Well, your concern is unnecessary."

A little flash of annoyance curdled my mood. "You know what, Blayne? I did this for you. You asked me to reject you. This whole pity party, this woe-is-me thing, is getting old. I only wanted to help. If you're really that miserable, you only have yourself to blame."

He bowed his head as if he was struggling with something, but then he looked me straight in the eye and shook his head. "I'd rather deal with the temporary misery than a lifetime of being mated to the woman who took my brother from me."

He turned, opened the door, and walked inside. I stood there, shocked by the depth of his hatred for me. I'd held out some hope that one day, he'd bury the hatchet. If not with me, then just with himself. My shoulders sagged as I turned back toward my own house. I didn't need anything else to show me that April was wrong. Fate did not always know right. Some things weren't inevitable.