Chapter 17 Ava: Settling In

Chapters 11-17 have been rewritten to improve story flow and pacing. [June 27, 2024]

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The men at the door look related. So related that I'd bet they're twins.

"Hi," the one on the left says, with a charming smile. They have close-cropped brown hair and twinkling brown eyes, with popular kid in high school written all over them. They have to be in their mid-twenties now, though.

"Hi," I respond, with some suspicion. Is this that legendary thing called solicitation? Are they here to sell me something?

If so, they're screwed. Selene got to my wallet first.

"Mrs. Elkins sent us," the guy on the right says, and I turn my gaze to him, relaxing a little.

"Oh?" Mrs. Elkins wouldn't just send someone without warning me.

Checking my phone, I see a missed text.

[MRS. ELKINS: Don't forget that Ben and Franklin are coming to help put up some shelves in the living room. You can send them away if you're not up to it.]

Oh, right. I vaguely recall some conversation like that last week. Probably something I should have added to my phone so I wouldn't be surprised at a time like this.

say, glancing back

a little more burly and the other wears glasses. "I'm Ben," the

shake my hand. He has

Ah, they're family.

more at ease now, I step back to invite them in. Selene gives them both a quick once-over, yawns, and

you're dogs a bit of a couch potato," Ben says with

her paws on the remote. I can see how that's amusing; the idea of

lightly flirtatious laugh or the interested glances he sends my way. He's

guess Alphahole Lucas Westwood has ruined me for

my sternum, we glance through a few

of books, and—as it turns out—I don't

gets rid

of them are old and well-worn. Others are brand new,

tape measure, jotting down some numbers as he assesses the living room walls. "Alright, so if we put

by his spatial awareness. "That works for me. I'm not picky, as long as

about that. We'll make sure they're anchored well. Wouldn't want any accidents." He flashes me a friendly smile, but it lacks the flirtatious

they get to work, I sort through the boxes, organizing the books by genre. It's a daunting task, but there's something satisfying about handling each book, deciding where it belongs. Fiction, non-fiction, classics, contemporary... the piles

and sorting.

surprised by my own energy, considering the fever still simmers under my skin. But there's a buzzing in my veins,

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