But I wasn’t out for a leisurely tour of our run-down Rust Belt town. I had a mission, and a simple one: explain myself to Avery.
I made it to her apartment not too long later. I headed inside, went up the stairs, and knocked on her door. I was determined, and I wasn’t going to be turned down.
I heard some shuffling inside, and a minute later the door opened.
Harper, Avery’s friend, smiled at me. “Hi, Gibson,” she said.
“Hey, Harper. Is Avery home?”
“She’s not here,” she said.
I frowned. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Look, I just want to see her for a second, to explain.”
She smiled again apologetically. “I don’t know what’s going on between you guys, honestly, and I don’t want to know, but right now she’s not here.”
I frowned and nodded. “Okay then.” I turned to leave, but Harper suddenly stepped out of the apartment and quietly shut the door.
“Listen, don’t give up,” she said. “Avery is upset, but it could just be pregnancy hormones or something. I know she’s into you.”
I grinned at her. “I wasn’t going to give up.”
“Good.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I said.
“That’s the spirit.”
“See you later, Harper.”
“Bye, Gibson.” Harper went back inside and shut the door.
I didn’t get to see Avery, and that was okay. I hadn’t really expected it to be that easy.
But I felt encouraged. If her best friend was rooting for me, even if she was doing it on the sly, then I had a pretty good chance.
I wasn’t giving up anytime soon.
22
Avery
I skipped going to Gibson’s Tuesday and spent most of the day in the library. When I got home later that night, he showed up at our apartment. Harper got rid of him, but I was so incredibly torn.
Wednesday morning came and went, and I couldn’t make myself go over to his apartment. I shouldn’t have had Harper lie to him yesterday, but I couldn’t face him, not yet at least.
I just kept seeing that duffel bag of cash. The idea that he got that from the mafia in exchange for throwing the first half of the game kept haunting me. That was serious and could easily result in him losing everything he had worked so hard for.
And he did it because of me. He went to the mafia and let them buy him because he wanted money to try to take care of our baby. He risked his career and everything he had built just to try to help me.
That made me feel worse than anything else. It was crazy that he went to the mafia, and a little bit more than scary, but that wasn’t what was keeping me from him.
Gibson had a future. He was one of the best football players in the country. I did some internet research on him, and apparently a bunch of professional teams were actively scouting him, and there were rumors that several were already planning to draft him.
He had a professional football career ahead of him. And here I was, just some girl from nowhere with a baby inside her, and he was willing to risk all of that for me.
It was too much. I couldn’t take that responsibility. I couldn’t be responsible for him losing his dream.
He was willing to go too far for me. I wasn’t ready to let his life be ruined just because mine was, too. It felt good that he was willing to do whatever to make things right, to take care of me and our baby, but he didn’t have to. I could do it myself. I wasn’t going to ask him to throw his career away.
Besides, he shouldn’t be getting involved with the mafia. That probably went without saying. He had worked so hard to escape that part of his past, and because of this baby, he was sliding back into his old, bad ways.
All day Wednesday I floated through space. My head was basically somewhere else, either worrying about Gibson getting caught and losing his football career or about him getting too involved with the mafia.
Class was a blur, lunch was a blur, and I was barely paying attention to the world around me as I walked my bike home. At least it was a beautiful day out, and everyone was relaxing on the manicured grass.
My phone began to vibrate as I got close to the edge of campus. Assuming it was Harper, I pulled it from my pocket and answered it. “Hello?”
“Avery.”
I took a sharp breath. “Hi, Mom.”
“How are you?” She sounded stiff and formal.
“I’m doing okay. How are you and Dad?”
“We’re fine.”
I hadn’t spoken to them since I’d broken the news. I had tried calling once, but my father just said that my mother wasn’t feeling well and maybe I should call back some other time. I hadn’t tried since then, because it was obvious to me that they didn’t want to talk.