Touch & Go (15 page)

Sam wasn't big on goodbyes. He'd had enough of them implode in his face that these days he tended to avoid the teary-eyed, heartfelt exchanges whenever he could. Sometimes there was no way to avoid them, but today, when Ava's departure coincided with the meeting he had on the books, he recognized his opportunity and didn't try to back out.

They'd said what they needed to say already. He knew why she was leaving, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to change it.

So he called her before his meeting and asked her if there was anything she needed and teased her about the things she usually forgot—basically trying to play it off like there wasn't anything bothering him. Like it was any other day. Like nothing was wrong between them and the only woman he truly needed in his life wasn't about to fly two thousand miles away to make things right.

From Ava's end, she played her part, laughing at his jokes and making a few of her own. But the undercurrent of tension was there in all the things they didn't say. So he'd kept the call quick, using work as an excuse even though they both knew he could have stayed on the line.

And now she was gone.

Ford had told him they'd be leaving about three, and Sam waited at least that long before putting Dwayne in charge for the rest of the afternoon and clearing out. With his meeting done, there was nothing that needed his immediate attention, and Sam knew himself well enough to recognize he wasn't going to be an asset to anyone in those last few hours of the day. Even though he hadn't seen her off, his mind had been on Ava. And now he was by himself, alone in his apartment.

No distractions. No temptations.

Just Sam and all the mistakes he wouldn't take back if he could.

In the kitchen, he stopped at the fridge for a beer and then, seeing his empty shelves, fired off a text to Ava, knowing she wouldn't have boarded yet.

Sam:…What needs to go first in the fridge?

This was totally the kind of thing Ava would forget, and then suffer dearly for when she skipped back into her apartment two weeks from now.

Beer in hand, he headed for the front of the apartment, figuring he'd check out what he'd need to burn through or if there was anything he ought to freeze. Hell, maybe he'd just cook upstairs for the next couple of weeks. It had been weird, eating in his own place this last week, and if they were getting back to normal, that was it.

He was halfway out his door when Ava pinged him back.

Ava:…Unloaded everything on Ford. Grab whatever you need from the kitchen tho.

Sam stopped dead, unable to believe his eyes.

It wasn't enough to put two thousand miles between them; she didn't want him in her apartment while she was gone?

Something cold and hard took root in his chest and for a minute all he could do was stand there.

Jesus.
All he wanted was to be in a space that felt like her and she—

Shaking himself out of it, he stuffed the phone into his pocket and turned around. Walked back into his place and closed the door behind him. He was being a pussy.

Even Ava, who almost never swore, would say so.

Things were weird between them, obviously, since that's why she left. And chances were she'd been uncomfortable asking him about stuff she didn't want to take for granted, and figured it was just easier to go through Ford since he'd actually bothered to show up to say goodbye in person.

Not a big deal. No reason to make it one.

He walked back to the kitchen and dumped his beer down the drain, running down the list of possible distractions in his head as he went. Maggie and Tyler were in Cozumel for the week. Ford was probably stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

There were women he could call. And Ava had even suggested they get back to dating before she came home, as part of the whole reset thing. But Sam wasn't interested. Not yet.

Tony was probably around, but tonight Sam didn't think he could deal with his cousin's level of crass and crude.

There were other guys to call, guys he'd known for years, but for whatever reason only one name came to mind.

Dialing, he turned down the walk. “Hey Mitch, Tyler mentioned you were staying a few more days in Chicago. How 'bout a beer?”

Ava dropped her suitcase by the door, her eyes drifting over the details of the space she'd be sleeping in for the next two weeks. Maybe four. Not more than six. Eight tops.

And sighed.

It was clean and neat. An efficient use of space and more than enough to suit her needs for the few hours a week she'd actually spend awake in it, and that was all that mattered.

She didn't need a cushy couch because she wasn't going to have half a dozen people in her place. She'd come to San Diego to be alone.

To get her head straight. To put her life back in order. And to move on from the one fantasy it was time to accept—
really accept
—was never going to come true. So why was that single wingback chair making her throat tight and her chest hurt?

She ought to unpack. Organize the few belongings she'd brought with her. When she was here, she had to be as efficient and minimalist as her space—a skill she'd perfected through her last few trips.

Of course once she got back to her jam-packed apartment at home all those minimalist skills went straight out the window and she practically rolled around in her knickknacks, souvenirs, overstuffed shelves, and Sam stuff. All that clutter and
too much
were what made her home
her home.
And it only took a minute back in the heart of it for all her organized non-hoarding intentions to go right out the window.

Which, now that she thought about it, didn't really bode well for her plan to get over Sam and go home a changed woman. A stronger woman, one who was ready to have the kind of life Sam couldn't offer her.

Okay, so she wasn't going to think about that now.

Kicking off her shoes, she rubbed her toes against the carpet and then forced herself to make the six-step journey to a bed Sam had never shared with her. She lay down flat on her back with her hands clutched over her chest and tried not to think about all the things she knew better than to want at home. About snuggly puppies or handsome idiots.

One little cry. Just for a few minutes, and then she'd start with the whole getting-her-life-back-together business.

Sam probably should have stopped with the last beer. Only they were cold and wet and delicious, and Mitch had ordered the round and Sam hadn't wanted the guy to think he was a lightweight.

And that kind of thinking should probably have been a warning he'd hit his no-regrets limit the bottle before, but then the damage was done, wasn't it? And so he'd had another. Because if he didn't, he was going to have to go back and face the quiet of an apartment he'd never really felt at home in.

“So I don't want this to sound bad or anything,” Mitch said, leaning a little too heavily over the bar. “But for this epic ladies' man, you're pretty fucking disappointing.”

Sam raised a brow at him, leaning back on his stool until he remembered there wasn't a back on it. “Sorry, man, were you part of the fan club or something? Didn't mean to let you down.”

Ava would have gotten a kick out of that one. He picked up his phone to text her and then for about the twentieth time that night put it back down on the bar.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mitch said, waving him off before he pulled himself up straight and looked over the bar. “I'm serious, man, where'd you get this reputation? Because from where I'm sitting, you haven't looked at a woman since I rolled into town. Or at least not any woman other than Ava.”

Mitch nodded when Sam's head snapped around. And there was more than speculation in the guy's eyes.
He knew.

But so long as Sam didn't confirm it, then anyone Mitch happened to mention it to would just think Mitch didn't know what the rest of them did. “You got it wrong, man—Ava and I are just friends. We've known each other since—”

“Since you were in diapers. Right, I got that.”

Sam shifted. “Not quite diapers.”

“And not
just
friends either.”

All he had to do was just keep denying it. But instead he looked the guy in the eyes. “It's over now. It probably wasn't whatever you were thinking, either, but it's done. And honestly, man, it's not something we want getting out. Not even to your brother. Actually, especially not to your brother because he'd tell Maggie, and you get what I'm saying.”

The band was suddenly sounding more like noise than music to Sam, and he rubbed at the back of his neck.

“So it's over, though?”

The look in Mitch's eyes said this wasn't idle curiosity.

“How long you in town for again, Mitch?” he asked, the dull buzz from those beers burning off as he locked in on the guy.

“Couple more days.”

So what did he care whether it was over or not with Ava? He knew she'd be gone longer than he'd be around.

Mitch drained the last of his beer and set the empty on the worn bar with a thud. “This trip, anyway.”

Okay, and that had Sam's attention. “You're planning another?”

A shrug. “Things are kind of up in the air for me right now. I've got a couple of options with the employment thing—but truth is, I've been looking for a change for a while now. It's been good being around my brother again, and hell, I don't know. Chicago's got some appeal.”

Because of Ava.

“Is she into you?” Sam asked, feeling like a total chick but needing to hear Mitch's take on it, anyway.

The guy cocked his head. “Pretty sure she's into
you.
But if it's really over, then who knows?”

Sam drained his beer and flagged the bartender for another round.

“Cripes, Ford, it's Skype. I can see you taking notes for your game while I'm talking.”

Her brother glanced back at the camera, his dark brown eyes as close to making contact with hers as was possible from two thousand miles away. “I'm paying attention, Ave. Just had an idea I needed to get down. What do you think is worse, molten lava or acid?”

“Lava. But seriously, Ford, I miss you guys. Throw a girl a bone. What did you do last night?”

There was some quiet muttering as Ford again started with the note scribbling. When she wanted dish, he was the wrong guy to call, period. But with Maggie and Ty not getting back until tomorrow, her choices were limited. And she didn't want to call Sam.

Know about him? Yeah, definitely. She wanted to know how he looked, how he seemed, and whether he was back in the saddle, so to speak, when it came to Chicagoland's female population.

Tony wasn't an option, though chances were good the guy would know. He had a freakishly sharp mind when it came to keeping track of hookups and even potential hookups for any of them.

But one question about Sam and he'd be connecting the dots faster than Sam could unhook a bra with his teeth. Not part of the plan.

So she'd called her brother…only to find that he was
in the zone.
Which meant she might sit there for the next ten minutes before he realized she was still staring at him through his phone. And in ten minutes she needed to be back in Drew's office.

Tapping the screen with a short nail that needed some serious maintenance now that she looked at it, she cooed a singsong, “Yooo-hooo, earth to Ford? Come in, Ford.” When he held up a single staying finger she crossed her arms. “Ford!”

“Right, sorry, Ave. Okay. Yeah, I'm good now,” he promised, even as his eyes drifted once more offscreen. But then it seemed he really
was
good because he picked up his phone and the background spun around him as he walked through his apartment to the front step and sat down. “See? I'm here.”

She smiled and relaxed back into her own chair, retrieving her phone from where she'd propped it against her sweating soda. It was as close to a snuggle as she was going to get. “I miss you.”

He grinned, giving her some of that lopsided little-boy look he'd never quite lost. “You too. It's quiet around here.”

“Maggie and Ty are back tomorrow. That'll liven things up.”

“Some. But she's not quite the relentless plans coordinator you are. And they're fresh off the honeymoon. It'd be weird to ask them to do too much.”

Her brother had crazy ideas about privacy. If Maggie had taken her phone with her on the honeymoon, Ava would have been ringing her up morning, noon, and night. Which, okay, was maybe why Maggie hadn't taken her phone.

But whatever.

She had Ford's focus right then, and God only knew how long it would last, so she wanted to make the most of it.

“So with just you and Sam left on the block, what have you guys been getting up to? Has he installed a grotto between the two bachelors' buildings?”

She sounded like such a tool; she knew she did. But the not knowing was clawing at her heart and twisting up her belly so she could barely sleep. They'd agreed to start dating before she got back in town, and while a part of her believed it would be easier for her to let go and move on once she knew Sam had had another woman in his bed, another, more reality-based part of her was dying inside at the thought.

But no matter how she felt about it, it was going to happen, and she figured the “fast, like a bandage” approach would mean a certain sharp sting, but then it would be over.

She needed it to be over, and news flash, the distance alone thing? Not exactly coming through the way she'd hoped.

Ford laughed, shaking his head. “No grotto. But we did hit Fatpour for a burger and beer while we watched the game the other night. Other than that, like I said, it's been pretty quiet around here.”

Going for a casual tone, she angled to get closer to what she wanted to know. “Burgers, beers, and
babes
?”

“Nah. Not that I know of, anyway. I called it a night before Sam, though, so maybe.”

Maybe.

She smiled tightly, suddenly wishing Ford were back at his desk, distracted by whatever game he was cooking up in his head. Because now, he was just looking at her, seeing a smile tighter than it should be and wondering what it meant.

“You okay, Ava?” he asked, a furrow digging between his brows. “I guess I didn't really think about it before, about Maggie getting married, and that pact you girls made to open yourselves up to the possibilities all starting because
you
were ready to find someone.”

Ava stared at the phone a moment, not quite sure how to respond.

Yes, the pact had been her idea. Two years ago, she'd known drastic measures were in order if she was going to get past Sam. If she was going to have the kind of life that included a family. A husband, kids, a dog. Waking up to the sounds of spoons scraping through cereal bowls and Saturday morning cartoons, and tiny bodies dive-bombing her in bed.

She sighed.

“That pact, Ford, it worked out for Maggie, so I'm glad we did it. But I'm not sure two years ago I was really ready to be open to the possibilities at all. I thought I was, but when I look back I see things differently. I wasn't open-minded. I was just hoping I could be.”

Ford nodded, looking across to what she was pretty sure was Wicker Park. His eyes crinkled at the edges, giving her the impression he was seeing something beyond the park across from him.

“Believe it or not, I get it. I do. Sometimes we're just not ready, even if we want to be.”

Arching a brow, Ava leaned closer. “Is this the voice of experience speaking, big brother?”

Ford had had his fair share of girlfriends over the years, and being the kind of caring, quality little sister that she was, she'd done her best to keep track of them. But to her recollection, none of those girls really stood out as being important or enduring. But then Ford was two years older, and there were gaps in the years when keeping tabs wouldn't have been as convenient as she liked. When he started high school, and again when he moved on to college, and then before she graduated and moved into the building next door to him. Add to that Ford being a pretty private guy and she figured yeah, there was probably quite a bit she'd missed.

“Ehh, knock it off. I'm just saying I understand how it is seeing things differently as you get older.”

“Listen to who sounds like Dad,” Ava said with a quiet laugh, then added, “You know you look more like him every year.”

Ford pulled a face and then made another one that was his obvious go at mature and respectable. She didn't tell him, but it was during the quiet times, when he was deep in thought, that she saw the resemblance the most.

“Yep,” she agreed. “That's him. Totally.”

“Could do worse.”

Such an understatement. In Ava's eyes it would be hard to do better.

Her dad had been her hero. Honest and strong, he'd been a man who knew what his priorities were and she imagined if he'd had time to contemplate his life before he'd died, his regrets would have been few.

Her phone pinged with a message from Drew's assistant, notifying her they were ready in Conference Room Two.

“Geez, look at me getting all misty over here while I'm missing my meeting. I've gotta bolt. But thanks, Ford. I needed this today.”

Ending the call, she packed up lunch and grabbed her laptop.

It was true, she had needed that. For as distracted and disconnected as Ford could be, there were times when the guy totally came through.

So she wasn't any closer to knowing whether Sam had moved on or not. If she were actually ready to know, maybe she'd have called him herself and asked.

It hadn't really occurred to Sam until Ava left for this trip how completely
suck
his apartment was compared to hers. Which was ironic considering the average visitor's reactions to his place—and granted, this had generally been females breezing through on their way back to his bedroom—versus hers. His guests responded to the clean lines and open space with appreciation, while those visiting Ava tended to take a quick step back before daring to venture in.

She loved stuff. And though her place was actually clean, it felt cluttered.

But it also felt cozy. And homey. And warm and comfortable.

Her couch was the kind he could totally sink into. The cushions just right for watching movie marathons. The brightly colored end tables were both functional and fun. The coffee table was the same one they'd been kicking their feet up on since they were kids.

He felt at home in Ava's place.

Not so much at his own.

Which was weird, he knew, but hell, it was just the way of it.

His place served its purpose.

While he spent the bulk of his time at Ava's, watching movies and hanging out half the night, until recently, he'd never crashed there. It was just one of those lines they hadn't crossed.

So he needed his own bed. A place to retreat to when it was time to be alone. Or when he had company or for whatever reason her place wasn't a viable option.

But as to how the space felt to him? Well, taking it in as he stood in his doorway with a steaming pizza from Lou Malnati's, he realized he never sat in his living room. And his kitchen, while immaculate, was more utilitarian than inviting.

Finally he carried the box back to his bedroom and did what he did most nights after coming back from Ava's—he fired up the flat screen and hopped into bed with the box on his lap. And he started flipping until something stuck.

Stuffing a big bite in his mouth, he chewed, watching someone talk about the trials of storing all those plastic food containers and never being able to find the right lid. Yeah, that's about what Ava's drawer looked like upstairs. Drove him nuts when he wanted to put something away and it turned out he'd scored the single container without a lid.

Putting the pizza down, he picked up his phone and dialed the number on the screen.

She was going to love this stuff when she got back.

Halfway through dialing, a message popped up. The pizza turned to dust in his mouth as Sam stared at the screen.

Ava:…
Date accomplished. We're officially back to just friends from my end. How about yours?

Shoving the box across his bed, Sam tried to control his breathing. The sick churn in his gut and thundering rush of blood pounding past his ears.

She'd gone out with another guy. Smiled for him. Laughed for him.
Jesus,
maybe she'd even let him kiss her or—

Fuck.
He couldn't think about it.

Looking at the phone again he reread the message, concentrating on the part about being officially just friends again and the fact that Ava thought that's what it would take for them to get right.

Thumbs moving over the screen, he typed his reply.

Sam:…
Soon.