Lucky Hit: Chapter 18

The text message in front of me has snared my tired eyes. Guilt chews at my subconscious, and I don’t bother trying to brush it off.

Oakley: Just got back. You home?

It popped up two hours ago, but I haven’t made any move to reply. After everything that happened yesterday and the awful night’s sleep I had with Adam snoring loud enough to be heard in my room from the couch, I don’t think I would be the greatest company.

I can admit that I missed Oakley over the past few days, especially after spending so much time with him recently. But that in itself scares me, which does little to give me the push I would need to invite him over.

If he were to show up here today, I would have to explain why my eyes are red and swollen and how my dark circles became so damn pronounced.

Is airing out my dirty laundry the right move here?

I don’t think so.

Me: Yeah. Super tired though. Think I’m going to spend the day napping.

I set my phone down on the kitchen counter and pick up my discarded coffee cup instead. The coffee inside is cold, but I drink it anyway. My stomach twists as it settles.

Morgan has been at her parents with Matt over the weekend for his cousin’s wedding, and the apartment feels too quiet.

Shoving Adam out at the crack of dawn was probably a bit premature now that I’m standing here alone, drinking cold coffee and wallowing in self-pity.

A knock on the door has me rolling my eyes. Think of the devil, and he shall appear. Only when I unlock the deadbolt and pull open the door, it’s not Adam I see—it’s Oakley.

“Oh, shit,” I mutter before instinctively shutting the door in his face. My cheeks are on fire as I drop my chin and look at my outfit. The white sleep shorts and thin tank top do little to hide my body, and I’m cursing the lack of heat in the apartment when I spot my nipples trying to cut through my top.

“Ava?” His voice wobbles with what I assume to be humour.

“What are you doing here?”

A throaty laugh. “Open the door and find out.”

“I need to change.” Before he can answer, I’m rushing to my room and tearing through my drawers in search of something more appropriate to wear in front of the guy I have a seriously embarrassing crush on but am unsure what to do with.

After tugging a baggy grey sweatshirt over my head and slipping on some pajama pants, I head back.

As soon as I open the door, I watch as Oakley’s playful smile drops and twists into a scowl. I lift my brows at the dark twinge to his usual warm eyes. He’s glaring at my sweatshirt, and I can’t fight back the shiver that tickles my spine at the intensity behind the look.

“You okay?” I ask slowly.

His throat bobs with a heavy swallow. “Yeah.”

I nod once before spinning on my heel, set on going to sit on the couch. My lungs seize when a strong hand clasps around my wrist, stopping me. Startled, I look up at him from over my shoulder, and our eyes collide.

“I think I’ve made a mistake by not being more honest with you,” he starts, his voice no more than a husky whisper.

I shudder. “About what?”

“I like you, Ava. Enough that the sight of you wearing another guy’s clothes makes me see red.”

Suddenly, I’m being spun around, and the door is slamming shut. When my back makes contact with the wood, I gasp. A firm hand curls around my hip as another slips up the side of my throat and holds the back of my head.

Sparks fire beneath my skin as I watch him lose his grasp on control. As soon as his heated stare falls to my mouth, I know I’m a goner.

“I missed you while I was gone. Tell me you missed me too.”

“I missed you too.”

And that’s all it takes.

As if my words had stripped away the last of his self-restraint, he growls two almost inaudible words before bending down and capturing my lips in a rough, possessive kiss.

Thank fuck.

I fall prey to his attack and surrender, reaching for him and curling my fingers in his shirt. Using the new leverage, I pull him closer. His tongue traces my bottom lip before I open for him and meet his cautious strokes with confident ones.

A rumbling sound builds in his chest when I nip at his bottom lip and curve into him, forcing us even closer together. He shifts his hips, and I feel the hard, thick outline of him against my lower stomach.

I suck in a heavy breath when he jerkily pulls his lips away, hovering them over mine instead. His fingers toy with the hem of my sweatshirt.

“Is this Adam’s sweatshirt?” he asks.

“Yes.”

When I look at him, I expect to find the same anger from earlier, but it’s not there. It’s like our kiss smothered that fire, replacing it with another. One we both feel.

“I’m not the guy to tell you what to do, but please wear mine next time.”

I smile coyly. “I wasn’t expecting you to have such a possessive side.”

“Me either,” he admits. “Never have before.”

I can’t stop the nip of pride in my chest. “Want to move out of the entryway?”

“We should.” Instead, he sweeps in for one more kiss. One that doesn’t last nearly long enough. “I did come over here for more than to maul you against a door. I swear.”

“Mm, right. You’ll have to let go of me before we can move.”

A dimple pops in his cheek when he smiles at me and takes a generous step back and drops his arms. “After you.”

“My mom’s back,” I blurt out once we’ve made ourselves comfortable on the couch and silence has started to make my skin itch.

Oakley stiffens. “What?”

“I found out yesterday that she’s been sniffing around looking for me. I’ve been wallowing in my feelings since. That’s why I didn’t text you back.”

He fixes his eyes on me and stares intently, like he’s trying to slip inside my head and root through it. I’m glad he can’t. He would probably run for the hills if he could.

I swallow a groan when he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it, looking sheepish. It would be naive of me to think he doesn’t have questions. Especially after we kissed and turned this friendship into something muddled with feelings and attachments.

“Ask what you want to ask,” I say, giving him the floor.

He reaches across the sliver of cushion between us and covers my knee with his wide palm. His fingers start to draw circles over my sweatpants.

“Will you tell me if I ask something you don’t want to answer?”

“Yes.”

He furrows his brows. “How long were you in foster care?”

“Fifteen years. Pretty much from the time I was born until I was adopted.”

His fingers flex. “That’s too long.”

“It is,” I agree with him. There’s no denying the damage inflicted on children that have spent a massive chunk of their lives without a family. I’m incredibly lucky to have been adopted by such amazing parents. Better late than never. “But it could have been longer. I was fifteen when Lily and Derek adopted me.”

“They seem like great people.”

I smile softly. “Yeah. Not only did they choose to adopt a teenager, which is pretty rare, but one that was also acting out and a total bitch to everyone.”

Oakley barks a laugh. I cock my head as if to ask why he’s laughing. “You acted out? I can’t see it.”

“Of course you can’t. I’m a good girl now. But back then? Not at all.” He still looks like he doesn’t believe me, so I reach over and tug at the hairs curled behind his ear. “It’s true! I never did anything outright dangerous, but I did have one of the older kids at my group home pierce my nose with a paper clip, and I made sure to stomp around the house in my muddy boots every time a potential foster family came through the doors.

“My attitude cost the chance of adoption for more than just me. I guess it was my way of getting even with the world, even if now it doesn’t make sense.”

My eyes fall to the floor. Shame slithers up my spine at the reminder of the person I used to be. The girl full of so much hate and resentment.

“Rebecca was—or I guess, maybe she still is—an addict. That was the only thing I knew about her for years. Not her name or if she still lived in Vancouver. She was a ghost, and I made peace with that. My birth father was most likely an addict too, and he ran off as soon as I was born.”

“These people never deserved you, anyway, Ava. Jesus, baby. I’m sorry,” Oakley murmurs.

He shifts closer and moves his arm over my shoulders, bringing me close and tucking me into his chest. His arms wrap around me like two protective walls, and I exhale a long breath in his shirt.

“It’s okay. I’ve worked hard to move on from that place in my life. I think that’s why Rebecca showing up is having such a toll on me.”

I slide my eyes over the quiet apartment before getting them snagged on a black-framed photo hung on the left side of the TV. Emotion collars my throat as I stare at the family picture.

It was taken after my very first Christmas dinner with Lily and Derek. We had only just finished eating—the table was still full of leftover food—but Mom ushered us all out of our chairs and in front of the fireplace. She propped her camera up on the coffee table and set a timer before running over to stand in her spot beside Dad.

I remember how it felt at that moment, looking around at my new family. For the first time in my life, I was completely and utterly happy.

“What was it like for you? To be in foster care.”

I blink back the tears that are beginning to cloud my vision before coughing to clear my throat.

“It had its good moments. My experience wasn’t anything to write home about, but it wasn’t as bad as it’s described in movies and television. Not my experience, at least. I spent most of my childhood in all-girl group homes. I only stayed with a few different foster families.”

“Were they good to you? If they weren’t, tell me and I’ll track every single one down and break their legs.”

I laugh, despite the seriousness of his threat. There’s no doubt in my mind that he would really do that for me, and that makes me far happier than it should.

“They were okay, Boy Scout. I promise.”

Peeling my cheek from his shirt, I sit back and look at him. As soon as we lock eyes, I’m searching his for any sign that I’ve scared him off or changed the way he sees me. I must show my surprise when I come up with nothing because he shuts down all of my negative thoughts in two sentences.

“Nothing you could tell me would change the way I think about you, Ava. That’s a promise.”