Deeper (The Deeper Chronicles #1) (12 page)

“Why the hell do they have to throw the cans in the middle of the street?” Harry muttered to himself. He parked his Oldsmobile with a grimace.

Coming home from a long shift, Harry wanted to dive into some leftovers and take in a few John Wayne movies while he sat—snored was most likely what would happen—in his La-Z-Boy. But all that would have to wait so he could gather his trash cans that the sanitation workers had haphazardly thrown to the ground during their collection yesterday while he was at work.

“I should call 311 on their asses,” he grumbled. New York City’s residents used the number for non-emergency complaints like damaged trees, water leaks, and much more.

“Afternoon, Mr. Manning,” Paul shouted out from Harry’s neighbor’s front steps.

The two met on the sidewalk. Paul, the neighborhood letter carrier for a good number of years, and Harry had developed a decent relationship. On days when Harry was home, he was sure to pass the aging man either a bottle of water on blistering hot days, or a cup of hot coffee when Brooklyn’s temperature was bitter cold.

“What do you have for me today? If you’ve got bills there, you can keep those.” Harry grinned.

Paul belly-laughed. “No, thanks. I’ve got enough of my own.” He pulled a bundle from his arm, which Harry took. “Enjoy the rest of your Saturday.”

Harry took his time walking up his steps then unlocking his door. He shuffled through the packet as he walked farther into his home.

Bills.
That’s for later.

TV Guide.
I’ll need that in a few.

His hand landed on a large package with ‘AARP Welcomes You’ splashed across it. He groaned, suddenly feeling every bit of his fifty years.

His feet stopped in their place. A simple white envelope scrawled in a script that would be forever etched in Harry’s memory. With haste, he slid his index finger under the glued edge of the envelope. He whisked out the single sheet of lined paper. His heart thumped, falling from his chest cavity to the pit of his stomach. He quickened his stride to his chair, needing to sit in fear of passing out. He flipped the envelope over, the return address registering in Harry’s consciousness.

N
ew York welcomed autumn with open arms. Willow leaves changed to deep ruby reds and burnt oranges that floated off tree branches and onto pavements. Avi’s students frolicked in the fallen leaves during recess with smiles that overtook their cherubic faces. On her way home from running errands, her neighbors’ children could be found on the sidewalk laughing and playing or basking in the last of the day’s sun before they went indoors.

Unlike them, Avi could never relax.

She was tightly wound. More letters arrived daily, but the worst were her dreams. A month had passed since Avi had entered Club Envy for a simple night of fun and forgetfulness. She had left with the promise of a date, but not with the man she wanted to say yes to, despite her better judgment. She had been thinking way too much about the mysterious man. Avi wished she could erase the way his dark murky eyes that crinkled at the sides and made her stomach leap, or how the rough pads of his fingers ignited goose bumps along her skin.

Plopping onto her loveseat, she slid the zip up on her boot.
I’m as confused now as I was the night he left with someone else.
Avi didn’t want to care who Noah left with. She didn’t want to wonder, in the middle of brushing her teeth or teaching the importance of punctuation, what he was doing at that moment. Many times, Avi had opened her mouth to ask Sofie for something, anything about Noah Adams, but in the end, she lost her nerve when memories of Florida brought her back to her senses.

Her gut told her to stay away, and that was her intent.

“I’ve got enough on my plate,” Avi said to the empty room, yet her words lacked the conviction she was going for.

Her case wasn’t helped by the dreams that had been plaguing her.

Panty-drenching dreams.

Steamy dreams.

Dreams that all starred a certain dark-eyed man.

In every single one, her body was deliciously curved into pretzel-like positions—dominated by his large, heavy hands, and his hard body. Each morning, without fail, she woke soaked from head to toe.

Light perspiration dotted Avi’s upper lip when she remembered her latest dream. Not even the breeze coming through her cracked window helped. She glanced at her watch.

“Where the hell is he?” She peeked through the blinds onto the street below her window. “I hate being late.”

Maybe I need a damn cat or something, so I don’t have to talk to myself like a crazy person.
Her cell rang.

“Finally,” she said, as if the caller was in the room, and then picked up the phone. “Hello.”

“Are you coming down?” he asked.

“Already on my way.”

She grabbed her overnight bag from the floor. Rising, her eyes snagged on the unopened letters. Those were the reason she couldn’t become involved in anything complicated—and Noah screamed complication. Grabbing her keys, she decided she’d deal with the letters when she came back. She clicked the lights off and locked her apartment door.

Jayson stood by the back of a car with the trunk open. Avi’s eyebrow rose. She knew next to nothing about him or his finances, but guessed there was little chance he’d be able to afford the Bentley in front of her. Though Avi had said friends, Jayson kept hearing a different word and continued to press his case to her at various intervals, many times during text messages.

“It’s a rental,” he said, jogging toward her.

He stopped a few feet from her, appreciation evident in his smile. Jayson didn’t hide that he was checking her out, and she fidgeted under his perusal, which left her cold and uninterested.

She was a curvy woman thanks to her very hippy mother, who also blessed her with a butt that stuck out too much, in Avi’s estimation. “Damn skinny jeans should’ve been left in the store. I don’t care what Sofie said,” Avi said under her breath, rolling her eyes.

Jayson stalked closer and rubbed his hands together with a wolfish grin on his face. That was what kept her from saying ‘yes’ to his most recent requests to have drinks together. After a month of knowing each other, she was adamant they remain friends, while he was confident that one day soon he’d wear her down and she’d claim him as her own.

That day would never come.

But he still stuck around.

A part of her questioned if she just wasn’t interested in dating generally, or dating him specifically. If a certain man with dimples were to ask...

“Hey,” Jayson said, taking her duffle bag from her.

His voice, so different from the man who met her in her dreams each night, jarred her back to reality. Just as he was about to kiss her on her lips, she gave him her cheek as she’d done each time he came too close. She saw him bury the rejection under a forced smile. Distancing himself, Jayson walked back to the trunk and placed her bag inside.

He cleared his throat. “Let’s hit the road.” He yanked the passenger door open, not waiting for her to get in before he strode to his side of the car.

Avi frowned at his quick temper. Jayson ran on two distinct temperatures: hot or cold, and grew frosty when he didn’t get his way. During the last times they’d texted each other, he was veering more and more toward irritability, though he tried to mask it. His words stated he accepted Avi’s decision about their relationship, yet at times, his actions showed the opposite.

Once settled in the warm interior of the car, Avi appreciated the luxurious design and soft butterscotch leather seats. To break through the tension that had settled between them, she was the first to speak as he merged with traffic.

“How was your week?” she asked then clicked her seatbelt closed.

“Good. You know these high school kids,” he responded, moving into the fast lane. “They’re all know-it-alls trying to sneak onto Instagram or Snapchat.” He shook his head.

“Teens are a piece of work.” She chuckled.

Jayson joined her in laughing. “Thank God we love our jobs, right?” He beeped his horn at a slow moving car. “Are you excited?”

“Heck yeah. It’s Sofie’s birthday.”

She recalled her friend gleefully dropping her invitation onto her desk. Sofie had a single warning to Avi: don’t come to her party stag. With zero prospects, Avi had invited Jayson.

“I can’t believe her aunt and uncle are throwing such a fabulous party,” she said. What a way to celebrate Columbus Day weekend.

Reaching for her left hand, Jayson threaded their fingers together. She didn’t want to appear ungrateful or rude, so she didn’t pull away from him. Jayson’s hand felt strange against hers. Uncertainty swam in her stomach, tightening her muscles.

“I’m excited to be going with you.”

Avi tried to tug her hand from his, but he was quick to keep their fingers locked in place.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“You know I like you and wish we were going as something more, right?”

Her hand went slack from the hold. “Jayson,” she pleaded, always uncomfortable when he chose to display his attraction to her when he knew she wasn’t going to return it.

“We have so much in common. Both professionals in the same field.” He took a chance and glanced at her profile. “But I’m a patient man. You’ll come around.”

Hope sparkled in his wide eyes.

I’ll have a talk with him later...after this weekend.

She treated him to a lopsided smile when additional words refused to leave her lips.

“We’ve got an hour’s drive before we get to Rye. How ‘bout you finally tell me something about yourself?”

Since that awkward date in the small restaurant, Jayson has fished for information about Avi’s background, but she’d found ways to turn the conversation back to him. He didn’t seem to have an issue speaking about himself.

His face was full of expectation.

Her lips parted and closed several times.

“I’ll go first,” Jayson said.

Avi breathed a sigh of relief.

“My dad died when I was younger, so it’s always been my mother and me.” Avi’s upper body turned toward him. Encouraged, he went on. “Did you know I became a science teacher because of her?” His lips kept moving, but his words were drowned out as Avi became lost in thought about her own mother.

“...your turn. Avi?”

“Huh?”

“What about your mom or anything? Beggars can’t be choosy.” The right side of his lips tilted upward while he faced the traffic ahead.

She shrugged. “Not much to tell. I was born in Norland.”

“Where’s that?”

“About an hour from Miami.” Her lips curved upward, remembering her childhood. “She’s Jamaican, and the neighborhood had its fair share.”

If the temperature dropped below sixty-five degrees, Avi remembered her mother griping about wanting to go back to her “country” even though she’d lived in the United States for more than thirty years.
Those were the good days, when things were simple.

“Is that so?” He stepped on the gas pedal, propelling the car forward and jerking her back to the present.

Her phone vibrated.

“Sorry, it might be...” Avi was happy for the diversion. She found her cell inside her bag. Her fingers moved with speed on the surface of her phone, tapping her text icon.