Page 35 of Defend Her Heart

My hand stills under the seat, and I turn my attention to see Avery wiping tears from her eyes. But this time they’re tears of joy. My heart squeezes in my chest. I’m not sure what I did to elicit such a reaction but I’d do it a million times again if it meant listening to her laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

She’s still laughing when she answers, her words coming out breathless in between cackles. “You.”Laugh.“Look.”Laugh, laugh.“Ginormous.”Laugh, laugh, laugh.She points at me and shakes her head. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know how badly I needed to laugh.”

Her words give me pause. The thought of her not laughing fills me with despair. How long has it been since she’s been happy?

Avery’s laughter continues for another minute, and I don’t say a word. I let her enjoy this moment because I’ll be damned if I’m the one who ruins her happiness.

You’ve already done that enough for one lifetime.

She takes a calming breath and turns in her seat, lifting one leg up in front of her.

“Okay, I’m done now. Also, the seat is jammed. You won’t be able to move it at all. Looks like you’re stuck there. You could always leave, though. Wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The sarcasm in her voice lets me know she doesn’t mean those words even a little bit. She’s not getting rid of me that easily.

Turning my upper body, I loop an arm around the chair, resting it on the back passenger door and lean back as much as I can. I’m uncomfortable as hell, but it’s not enough to make me leave. Avery snickers quietly to herself until I’m done squirming. The joy she felt just a minute ago quickly disappears from her face. In its place is the sadness and exhaustion I saw when I first approached her car. She quickly averts her gaze from mine.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Aves.”

My arm moves on its own accord. I reach out and gently wipe a stray tear from her cheek with my thumb. Avery leans into my touch for half a second before she realizes what she’s doing. She jerks her head away from my hand.

I want to grab the back of her neck and pull her into me. I want to hold her and not let go until she tells me what’s going on. It’s driving me fucking crazy not knowing how to help her. But the worst part is knowing she doesn’t want my help.

“Does this have something to do with those tests you need?”

She still won’t look at me, but I watch as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. I don’t expect her to answer my question, so when she nods I perk up a little bit.

“Yes. Sometimes it feels like I’ve been hit by a bus out of nowhere. I thought I was okay to drive but I wasn’t yet.”

The urge to fix everything for her, to get her the answers she needs and deserves, is so strong. But I know she won’t letme. She’s already said it once. So, instead, I sit silently and listen.

“I’m usually okay after ten or fifteen minutes. I was just taking a break so I could drive home.”

There are so many things I want to ask her. How long has this been going on? Why were you crying? Where is home? But, I keep my mouth shut because she’s clearly not done venting yet.

“And I was only crying because I’m exhausted. I am so fucking tired of feeling this way. I don’t even know my own body anymore. I can’t even trust it to get me home after a fun night with my friends. I don’t want to fucking live like this anymore.” Her voice cracks at the end, and it’s my undoing.

I shift closer, carefully drawing her toward me across the space between the seats. My hand slides up, cradling the side of her head as I guide her in, fingers threading gently through her midnight hair like I’m trying to anchor her there without forcing anything.

The moment she gives in, it’s like something in her collapses. She comes forward all at once, breaking against my chest.

Immediately, my other arm wraps firmly around her back, holding her in place as she folds into me over the center console. There’s no hesitation in me now, just instinct. Just the need to be here for her, to keep her from falling apart any further than she already has.

Her forehead presses into my chest as she cries, breath hitching against my shirt, breaking my fucking heart with every soft sniffle. I bow my head until my lips are resting against the crown of her head, staying there without words, just holding her through it as she shakes in my arms.

My hand stays in her hair, slow grounding strokes, while my other arm holds her steady against me. Like if I let go, even a little, she might disappear again.

And I’m not ready for that.

Finally, she pushes off me. Her face is red and blotchy from crying so hard but she still looks so fucking beautiful.

“I ruined your shirt.”

I look down and see makeup and a tear-soaked wet spot the size of a softball. The last thing I want her to feel is guilty for ruining some stupid T-shirt.

“I have more.” She nods but doesn’t say anything else. “Feeling better?”