Page 18 of Call You Mine
Friends don’t think themselves to death over reaching out to just ask if they’re okay.
“At the beginning, I tried,” I admit to Jack, thinking of my first date when I told Ava I was looking for someone ready to settle down. When she let me kiss her, I figured we were on the same page.
“What do you mean you ‘tried’?” Jack sounds skeptical, even more so after I explain to him about how she came back to my house after the drive-in, but when I asked her if she wanted to stay the night, she gave me that look—the one that meant she was already gone—throwing on her clothes andhurrying out the door with a rushed excuse of needing to work. “That’s what you’re going off of?” he scolds, and I feel like I’m being reprimanded by my dad.
Jack is almost ten years older than I am, and the difference between my twenty-five years and his thirty-four has always been apparent, but not as much as it is right now.
“What else am I supposed to go off of?” My voice goes high, heavy with defensiveness, and I feel my cheeks heat in embarrassment, feeling very exposed with the way Jack shakes his head at me. “She always leaves before I can eventhinkof what I want to say.”
“Well, you have to tell her. Because saying you’ve tried is horse shit. Asking her to spend the night one time ayearago is not ‘trying’.” Jack places his hands on the table before standing up from his chair.
“Eight months ago,” I mutter, but the correction is pointless.
It could beeightymonths ago, and it wouldn’t make a difference.
I’d still feel it in the pit of my stomach, this yearning ache for her—not just for her presence, but for the way I imagine she could fill every empty space inside me.
“What was that?” Jack asks, but I know he heard me, putting his hands on his hips.
I stand up too, not sure why he’s getting up all of a sudden, considering I thought we were still in the middle of a conversation, pretending I didn’t just talk back to him like some moody teenager. “I think if I tell her I want more, I’ll lose her altogether.”
The corner of Jack’s lip twitches. “Only one way to find out.”
My brows furrow. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs, rounding the table and heading toward the stairs that lead down to the truck. “You tell me, Sonny,” hesays over his shoulder, the nickname he and the other guys gave me when I told them they couldn’t call me “sunshine” anymore, no matter how positive and happy-go-lucky they think I am.
“Stop pretending I should know what that means. Unlike you, I don’t keep my sentences ten words or less, so you’re going to have to use more than four.” I close the distance between us, falling into step with him, still confused why he’s heading downstairs.
Jack stops abruptly, turning to me. “You have to tell Ava how you feel. If she’s willing to give you a chance, you make sure she knows you’re going to try like hell to show her you’re worth it. If she tells you to fuck off,” he pauses, shrugging before he continues, “then you live with it. It’ll suck, but at least you’ll know, and you’ll be able to move on.”
“I don’t want to move on.” The words are out before I can stop them, but they’re the truth. There’s something about Ava that feels worth fighting for. I think if she let me in, she’d see how deeply we understand each other, even in the quiet moments when nothing needs to be spoken.
How our silence says more than our words ever could.
“Well,” Jack starts, “then you'd better give her a good reason to give you that chance.”
My mind starts spinning with how the hell I’m going to do that, and I still have the rest of this shift. I can’t even figure out what to text her to check in, or how to nonchalantly ask how the valentines we got for her sister went over with her. I’m terrified that just a simple act of showing her I care will be enough for her to go running in the opposite direction from me.
How the fuck am I going to tell her how I feel, that I want to give us a shot, that I think we could reallybesomething?
“And how the hell am I going to do that?” I ask.
I don’t know what the right words to say are or the right way to go about this.
But Jack doesn’t have time to respond because the second I ask my question, sirens begin to sound, echoing through the bay, the lights snapping on, and boots already moving in our direction.
Without another glance in my direction, Jack starts barking orders to the rest of the crew, the Lead Firefighter role taking over as he runs down the stairs toward the lockers to suit up.
I follow the rest of the crew, going through the motions—pulling on my gear and tightening the straps on instinct, my hands moving faster than my thoughts.
By the time the engine of the firetruck lurches forward, I have to blink and refocus, the call catching up to me a beat late.
If I can trust the son of bitch to somehow know we were about to get a call, maybe I can trust him when it comes to telling Ava how I feel, too.
CHAPTER 7
AVA
