Lost Avalon: A Finding Nolan Novel (17 page)

             
Meanwhile, this was practically the only chance I had all year to unpack and actually feel like I had a home somewhere instead of being on the road non-stop and I was staying in a hotel for crying out loud. Like I didn’t get enough of that while we were on tour.

             
I had already called my contractor five times in that short time period, and he had assured me over and over again that the house wouldn’t be livable for at least another thirty days. Longer if I didn’t stop calling him and let him get some work done.

             
For the most part the guys had taken our break up in stride and were apparently too relieved about the fact that Blaise and I were behaving very adult about the whole thing, and by adult I meant we were giving each other the silent treatment, to question why things hadn’t worked out between us. Or maybe they were just asking Blaise.

             
My fourth night in the hotel and it was nearly three a.m. when I finally turned off the Golden Girls Marathon I’d been watching and attempted to get some sleep. My lids had barely closed, shutting out the rest of the world, when there was a knock at my door.

             
Alarmed, I popped straight up from the comforts of my pillow.

             
“Ava.”

             
Of fucking course. Who else would be knocking on my door an hour past last call? Then again, it was kind of a miracle he’d been able to locate me on his own this time.

             
I didn’t even have to drag myself out of bed, the fury of his audacity had already sent me flying across the room.

             
I threw the door open. “WHAT?”

             
He looked startled. And sober.

             
“I need to talk to you. Please. Will you talk to me?”

             
I ground my teeth, moving my jaw back and forth. “I guess.”

             
I stepped aside to let him enter and he did.

             
“For starters, I want you to know that I haven’t had a single drop of liquor since the night we fought. Nor have I taken any other substance you wouldn’t approve of. You’re still good with aspirin, right?” It wasn’t his lame attempt at a joke that made me grin, but the hesitant little smile he flashed me when he did so.

             
“Blaise, I told you. It wasn’t about falling off the wagon.” I moved away from the door and further into the room.

             
“I know. It was about the lying. It was because I used you to take the heat off of me. I’m sorry. I know it was wrong.” He followed me and had a seat on the sofa. He leaned into his knees, hanging his head, slowly shaking it back and forth. “Thing is, being out, watching everyone drink. It was harder than I thought it’d be. I was so used to being in this bubble with you, I thought it could keep me safe from the outside world somehow. Safe from myself and my flaws. I really wanted to be better for you, Ava. Still do.”

             
I sighed. I finally understood. “That’s the thing. You can’t do it for me. You have to do it for yourself.”

             
He ran his fingers over his face. “What difference does it make? You, me? Isn’t the only thing that matters that I do it?”

             
I sunk down into the chair across from him. “No.”

             
“Why not?”

             
“Because if you do it for me, you’re just using me again to take the heat off of yourself.”

             
He fell back into the cushions behind him, clearly getting agitated with the direction this conversation was taking. “How do you figure?”

             
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? It’s easier for you to love me enough to change. You’re trying to present it like it’s this grand gesture, like your love for me is so intense it gives you the strength to move mountains...and overcome addictions. Well, it’s bullshit, Blaise. It has nothing to do with how much you love me. It’s about how much you hate yourself.”

             
“I don’t fucking hate myself.” He was looking at me with disgust. Like I’d just talked about wanting to stick my tongue in a pool of his vomit or something.

             
“Oh, okay.” I got up and started to walk away. This was a waste of time. Time I could have spent sleeping.

             
“Don’t
oh, okay
me! That’s bullshit. You think I hate myself? Explain it. How do I hate myself? And why the fuck would I? Have you heard the amount of women screaming my name night after night?”

             
He did not just go there.

             
“You stupid prick. No one was questioning how many women love you. Fuck, I’m one of them, remember? The issue is that
you
don’t love you. And trying to prove that you do by showcasing all of the
love
you give yourself through outside sources only reiterates my point.” I saw him open his mouth to counter me and I just went on, unable to take another serving of his ridiculous argument. “All this time, I thought your lies were meant to keep the truth hidden from the outside world. I honestly believed, that you, YOU, still knew the difference between what was real and what was just another element of your imaginary reputation. You’re so fucking lost Blaise and you don’t even know it because you covered up your tracks so well you can’t even see where they lead back to anymore.”

             
He jumped to his feet, fuming. “I’m fucking lost? Have you looked in the mirror lately, Ava? You’ve been so busy running around after me for the last decade you’ve never once looked at where you were going. You like talking about tracks so much, how about making a set of your own? Or do you plan on tagging along for the ride the rest of your life? I mean, I have to ask, since you clearly hate the driver!”

             
I wanted to slap him. Hard. Instead I just locked my jaw, seething. “Get out.”

             
“No.” He took a defiant stance in front of me.

             
“Fine.” I turned around, grabbed a hoody from the chair in the kitchen, pulled my purse from the hook on the door and slid my feet into the flip flops closest to the exit. “You think it’s time I make my own set of tracks. I’m on it.” I pulled the door open to leave. “And don’t you dare consider stepping out on them when I do. Because I will run you the fuck down.”

             
And I was gone.

***

             
My first instinct was to raid the minibar in Ava’s room. As soon as I opened it, her words were ringing in my ears again and I slammed it back shut.

             
“Fuck.” Screaming wouldn’t help. Hadn’t helped the other night. Definitely wouldn’t help now. If anything it would lead to me standing face to face with hotel security in a room that wasn’t mine and likely ending with me getting escorted from the premises. With my luck the damn paparazzi would be parked right out front just waiting for such a photo op.

             
So, screaming and smashing everything in sight was definitely out of the question.

             
Which left me just standing there. Frozen in place. Helpless to move. I’d never been here alone. Ava had always been just a phone call away. I felt pathetic standing there, knowing I had only two options. Either do what I knew to do which meant getting shitfaced and hooking up with the first woman who crossed my path, or admitting I needed help.

             
I pulled my phone from my pocket.

             
“Royce?”

             
“What’d you do now?”

             
“I fucked up. Ava’s gone.” I let out a long ragged breath. “And I don’t think she’s coming back.”

             
“You just couldn’t leave shit alone.” I could hear Royce moving around on his end. Probably getting out of bed.

             
“Thing is,” I paused, trying to force the words out, “I need help.”

             
“Just tell me where you are and stay put. I don’t have that internal Nolan GPS Ava has so I won’t be able to track you down if you go missing.”

             
“I’m in her room. And Royce?”

             
“Yeah?”

             
“Thank you.”

             
“No need. That’s what family does, man.”

             
The line went dead and the waiting game began.

When Royce showed up fifteen minutes later I was still standing in the exact same place.

             
“Come on. I know a place where we can lay low.”

             
I just nodded and followed him out of the room. I couldn’t help but notice how easy it was to move now that someone else was there to tell me what to do again. Was I really incapable of getting through my own life without someone else there to hold my hand? I guess I’d never had to find out before now.

             
The place Royce knew was a hole in the wall diner about two blocks down from our street. I’d passed it probably a million times and never had a clue it even existed.

             
He slid into a booth in the back of the restaurant and I took my seat across from him.

             
“You brought a friend tonight.” Our server was a strange little dude with a quirky expression and curly black hair.

             
“What’s up, Mo?” Royce reached up and gave him a high five like it was their thing. “This is my buddy, Blaise.”

             
I nodded. “Hey man. Nice place you got here.”

             
Mo laughed. “It’s a shithole. But the coffee is good and no one makes better biscuits and gravy than Berta.” He turned to Royce. “The usual then?”

             
Royce lifted his hand to gesture. “Times two.”

             
As soon as Mo was out of ear shot I leaned over toward Royce. “What the fuck is up with you and biscuits and gravy?”

             
He shrugged. “I like sausage.”

             
No shit. “Don’t…don’t make jokes like that around me.”

             
Royce was having a good chuckle to himself. “Why not? I have to hear about tits and vaginas from you assholes all the time.”

             
“Fair enough,” I conceded. “After today I will never mention any women’s body parts to you ever again.”

             
Royce was still grinning when Mo came back with our coffees.

             
“So. What’s the plan, Blaise?”

             
“I don’t know.” I was staring into my mug in search of the answers. Hadn’t that worked on Harry Potter? Oh, right, it been all doom and gloom and the grim and shit. Well, that’s probably all I would find at the bottom of my cup as well. “All I know is I’m losing her and I can’t let that happen.”

             
“You’re not losing her.” He stretched out into the booth. “I know you can’t see it, but she’s trying to do the right thing for you. Your lives have been overlapping for so long, neither one of you has ever had to figure out how to function without the other. So, she’s giving you some distance. And I get that you think her timing sucks because you’re fucking lost again, but that’s the thing, Blaise. It’s time to fucking find yourself.” He took a sip of his coffee and smirked. “Metaphorically speaking of course.”

             
“Yes, oh wise one.” I mocked him further by bowing repeatedly. Not that he wasn’t right. About every fucking thing. And wasn’t that basically what Ava had said before I threw it in her face that she’d been wasting her life away making my dreams come true, like the ungrateful ass I was? “Okay Yoda, how do I find myself?”

             
He shrugged. “You start by not hiding.”

             
“You’re saying I need to come clean to the others about my drinking.” This conversation was definitely taking on a déjà vu vibe.

             
Royce nodded. “For example. I also think you should consider getting some outside help. I know Ava’s your rock, but she’s not a fucking rehab counselor.”

             
“Hey, she got me through the hardest part.”

             
“She got you started. The hardest part will be every day from here on out for the rest of your life. The only way it’ll ever get easier is if you find the source of what makes you want to self-destruct every two seconds and kill it.”

I looked up at him. Looked up
to
him. “When did you get so fucking enlightened?”