Illicit Affairs by Holly Dixon

Forty-Two

Weeks wentby like the turning of a page for Nate. Autumn had faded into a cold winter as snow blanketed the ground and stripped the remaining life clinging to the trees.

In that time, he had stayed at Ava’s apartment, caring for her as she mourned the loss of her friend and struggled with daily tasks due to her leg injury.

He believed that when Sam died, she took with her a part of Ava. It killed him to see her like this, a walking shell of a woman, a ghost that spent her days silently in front of her bay window staring outside or down at her cell phone replaying videos of her friend’s laugh.

He could never fully understand the pain and torment she felt, how hard it must have been for her with the daily reminders on the news about her friend’s death, the goddamn media banging at her door for a statement from the blonde girl in the Facebook video.

God, it must have been hell for her.

The worst part was feeling completely useless, trying everything in his power to ease her discomfort such as helping her into a bath every night, preparing her hot meals, and then encouraging her to actually eat those meals. He supported her throughout the gruelling physiotherapy even when her outlook was poor and that she’d likely remain on a walking stick for the rest of her days—a walking stick that she refused to use despite his incessant nagging.

It wasn’t lost on him that in those few weeks he had cared for her in a way that any husband should care for their wife—another sick joke made by the universe.

He was patient with her healing, not just physical but mental healing. She needed a friend, God did she need a friend right now, and his shoulder was there no matter the time of day or night. Nate gave her space, crashing on her couch and suffering the neck ache for it.

Each night, he found himself falling into the same routine: running into her room at exactly 3 a.m. as she cried out for her friend. His body had become so used to it that it naturally woke him up just before the clock struck three.

However, tonight was different. There was no crying, no screaming, only an unsettling silence that shrouded the apartment. He lay awake staring at the clock on the fireplace reading 03:26 just as the floorboards creaked behind him as bare feet stumbled towards him on the couch.

“Ava, is everything alright?” He shot upright, ripping the blanket from him as he turned to see her, his heart melting on the spot. Ava wandered closer to him, her casted leg dragging behind her and her hair a bird’s nest of unruly golden curls. She looked adorable with that comforter swaddled around her, so tiny and innocent, childlike. “Did you have a bad dream again?” he asked and frowned when she shook her head. “Then what’s wrong?”

“I didn’t see her tonight,” she mumbled with her bottom lip trembling.

Nate knew straightaway what she meant. She would rather the painful experience of dreaming of her friend dying than not seeing her at all.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he sighed softly, coaxing her to lie down on top of him and grimacing at the noise she made at the discomfort her leg gave her. She never admitted she was in pain, but he knew better. As she nestled her face into his white cotton tee his heart sang a symphony for it was the most intimate they had been in weeks.

“It should have been me.”

“What?” He craned his head back to peer down at her.

“This is my fault. Sam received the death penalty and all I suffered was nerve damage and a fractured femur. She didn’t deserve this. She wasn’t even closely involved in the Forbes mess.”

“No one deserved any of this, Ava,” he sighed with his arm wrapping around her small frame as he smoothed her hair.

“Did I ever tell you what Jenson Forbes asked Sam just before she died, Nate?” He knew it was a rhetorical question so remained silent and waited on her to continue. “He asked her how far she would go for love…” She peeked her head up to look at him, tears trickling down her face that he caught with his thumb. “But I never thought she would go as far as this and I can’t live with it, Nate. I can’t live knowing she’s gone, and I get to stay!”

After all this time, Nate thought that seeing Ava cry would get easier, but it still managed to reach inside his chest and squeeze the life out of his heart.

“No, beautiful. You’re looking at it the wrong way,” he soothed, cupping her face with both hands so she looked at him. “You’re right, you do get to live, and that isn’t a burden but a gift, Ava. If Sam were here, you know for a fact that she would tell you to get up and start living your life to the fullest. She’d want you to live the shit outta each and every day.”

“Oh, I know what she’d tell me. She’d tell me to stop being a dramatic cow and get off my tinky arse and wear something other than her onesie!” Ava laughed through her misery.

“Yeah, she’d no doubt have something to say about you sniffing her dirty laundry as well,” Nate chuckled, his face lighting up for the first time in weeks to see her attempt to let the joy back into her life. It was like he had managed to find a flicker of light trying to break through all of the darkness his girl was drowning in.

“I miss her so fucking much, Nate.”

“I know, sweetheart. I didn’t know her as well as you, but I miss her too.”

“The worst part isn’t the fact that my friend died in my arms…it was seeing her suffer. It’s knowing that her future will forever be an unwritten chapter, that she will never receive her promotion at work, never laugh again, and cease to exist in this world.”

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I feel like a fool for how I acted that night. I should have got to you sooner,” Nate confessed and watched her face twist in confusion. “That night…I went to your apartment looking for you when your neighbour told me you left with Peter. I’ve never felt heartbreak as bad as that. I thought you didn’t want me—”

“That’s not—”

“It’s fine, I know…but I didn’t at the time and I ended up in a bar drinking my problems and I found out all too late just how goddamn foolish I was,” he groaned, slumping back onto the sofa as he stared at the ceiling.

“You couldn’t have possibly known,” she protested, her legs straddling his sides as she sat up and reached for his face to turn him to look at her. “Tell me you don’t blame yourself for any of this.”

“I…”

“Nate, none of this is your fault! It’s no one’s fault! Who could have possibly known how twisted and wicked those fucking Forbeses were, or how manipulative and convincing that redheaded cunt was! If it is anyone’s fault it is theirs!” she attested, receiving raised eyebrows from him and suddenly realising that what she just said applied to herself as well.

“You should take your own advice…” He gave her a sweet smile, reaching up to brush her curls from her face before pulling her down so he could plant a loving kiss on her forehead. “Get some sleep.”

Ava nodded and settled back down onto his chest, taking comfort from the soothing song of his heart echoing in her ears. She realised that all the tears she cried kept her soul alive in the furnace of this pain, but they also helped clean and repair the soul. The only problem was…Sam was the other half of her soul, and no amount of time nor healing could ever make her feel whole again.

Nate awokethe next morning to the smell of burning that caused him to jump upright and look around for Ava, who was nowhere to be found.

“Ava?!” he called out in alarm as he rushed towards the source of the smell.

“Sorry…I’m not really the best at baking…” Ava fretted, stood in front of the stove, fully dressed in clothes for the first time in nearly a month.

For a moment, Nate just stood there gawking at the grey knitted dress fitted to her curvaceous figure. Even with the white cast wrapped around her leg, she still managed to knock him on his ass with her beauty.

“Baking? What are you…oh—” He paused, seeing the black circle stuck to the frying pan and laughed. “I wouldn’t qualify pancakes as baking, sweetheart.”

“Well it is, look! Eggs, flour, sugar, and one of these whisk thingies!”

“An eggbeater, yes.” He covered his smirk with his hand and watched as she grew more and more flustered.

“Oh, bugger off, you know what I mean!” Ava huffed, flicking the utensil at him, and gasping as pancake batter flicked across his face in creamy splatters. “I am so sorry, let me clean that up for yaah—!” she shrieked as Nate suddenly picked her up and set her down on the kitchen counter.

“That was incredibly naughty, Ms. Archer,” he tutted, running the tip of his finger through the batter before licking it off and waving his index back and forth in front of her face.

“It was an accident…”

“Oh, really?” He smirked, standing between her legs as his knuckles pressed down on the counter.

“Yep, but this isn’t!” she blurted as she blew flour into his face, her hair tumbling down her back as she tipped her head back and laughed.

“Oh, you’re dead…” Nate growled as he gripped her hips tight and tugged.

“No-no-no! Invalid remember!” she protested as she pointed down to her thigh, watching his eyes soften from their scowl.

“Fineeee… I’ll let you milk that excuse a couple more times,” he warned, pointing a finger in her face before winking. “Let the Yank show the Brit how to properly make pancakes, eh?”