Torn between risking it all and losing the man she loves, Ava must make a choice, but in the process of making this choice, Ava must accept the consequences of her actions and the damage that it leaves.
Series Order: Baby Steps, Colossal Jump, Movin...
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My tongue almost feels like sandpaper stuck to the roof of my dry mouth. I glance at the digital clock beside me and frown. It's only the afternoon.
A stray tear trickles down my cheek so I brush it away with the back of my warm finger. As I look at my hand, I remember how it felt to hold little Ivan's hand in mine. The silk like touch of his perfect smooth skin. The little nose wriggle and the sound that would escape his parted lips.
I envied time. There was never enough. I wanted more time with Ivan, no, I needed it. My heart burned at the thought of lost time, the time we'd never get back. It feels like a lifetime has flashed before me, yet it has only been a day or two.
Pulling the blanket over my head, I hide under it. Somehow, hiding under the warm blanket felt better than sitting downstairs. I felt safe under here. Silent tears trickle down my cheek. I don't bother brushing them away, it's no use.
I roll onto my stomach a heave with frustration. I hate that I can lay on my stomach, I hate how empty I feel, and I hate that Ivan isn't here. This feels like a terrible nightmare I don't know how to wake up from.
The blankets stay wrapped around me until I can't breathe. I kick them away and climb out of bed. Slowly, I shuffle towards the bathroom to shower. At least if I cried here, the tears would be carried away as if they were never there.
Once I get into the bathroom, I strip out of my clothing and throw it into the hamper. I step inside the shower and turn the water on. A gush of cold water hits me in the face. It's a wake-up call that sends me jerking backward. I turn on the hot water and wait for it to filter through the faucet.
My eyes catch a plain spot on the way - nothing special but tiles. Once again, my mind wanders to the painful memories. Being dragged from the room, the hallway incident, and then having to watch the sullen looks and pats of condolence. That killed me. I've never liked people saying sorry for my loss. They were never sorry. It's just a generic thing we say because it's expected.
The shower door is suddenly ripped open and I'm pulled out. I lose my balance and fall into a pair of muscular arms. Blake helps me to my feet as he wraps a towel around my shoulders.
I catch a view of my pinkish body in the mirror. It's only then that I notice the heat radiating from my skin.
Blake takes my arm and leads me to the bedroom. I take a seat on the bed while Blake searches through my draws for a pair of normal clothes to wear. Nothing about this is normal. I see the maternity clothing shoved into drawers, then I look over my shoulder and see the cot set up for Ivan. These are just reminders that I'm not a mother.
"Ava, tell me what to do. How can I help?" asks Blake, distress laced in his voice.
"We need to get rid of the cot and the clothing. I don't need them anymore," I say.
"Okay." He nods.
Blake scrambles through the draws and collects the maternity clothes in his arms. He walks to the other side of the room and throws it in the cot. He grabs either side of it and begins walking towards the stairs.
