As the storm intensified, sheets of rain pounded against her windscreen so hard the wipers battled to keep up and Lucy's tires hissed across the wet asphalt. With a brilliant burst every few seconds, the sky split open to light the deserted road ahead. In her seat she leaned forward, her jaws tense, looking through the water cascading across the glass.
"Great," she whispered, "of all evenings to launch a monsoon."
She resented traveling in thunderstorms. The way the road shimmered warped everything. Her pulse raced at the direction the wind propelled her tiny sedan laterally. She was rushing to get home before the power would surely go off, yet then her attention was drawn to the little, hunched form on the side of the road.
A shadow. No—someone walking.
Lucy clenched her fists over the steering wheel. Her heart started to beat in a peculiar, unsettling rhythm as she let off the gas. The headlights weakly illuminated the shape as she rolled nearer.
A lady.
Saturated to the bone. Just about vertical. Clutching a ripped bag like it was the sole item keeping her from falling.
Lucy gasped.
The storm suddenly stopped mat-ering. The car. The darkness. Not one of it.
That form she was aware of.
"Avery?" Lucy murmured, shock gripping her chest.
She pulled to the shoulder before she had deliberately decided. The tires lost traction, fishtailing briefly before the rear end of the car whipped and restored control. Lucy pushed the door open and threw the vehicle into park.
Rain struck her face so forcefully it stung, immediately soaking her clothes and hair. The cold was severe enough to rob her of her breath. She did not, however, slow. Running across puddles, mud clung to her sneakers.
"Avery!" she called, somewhat louder this time.
The figure paused. Avery straightened her head gently, agonizingly slowly.
Lucy gasped painfully and contracted her chest.
Avery seemed wrecked.
Her thick, wet hair fell over her face like tangled drapes. Swollen, crimson, hollowed eyes made Lucy's stomach churn. Her pants were so soaking she seemed darker than usual, and her shirt was weighted with rain adhering to her. She carried her rucksack and other things feebly, as though every item weighed a hundred pounds.
Lucy dashed towards her and stumbled right into her path.
"Avery," she breathed, terror and protectiveness striking her all at once. "What happened? Why are you out here like this?"
Avery opened her mouth, but no words came. Just one erratic breath that burst in the center. Her knees were shaking beneath her as she seemed to be unable to even hold herself up.
"Avery?" Lucy drew nearer.
Avery gazed into her eyes—just for a second. Lucy could see that something inside her friend had shattered open, something intense and agonizing. Avery spoke last, her voice shaky and raw, barely more than a whisper.
He booted me out.
Lucy halted cold.
"What?" Her disbelief sharpened her voice. Avery, who--?
"My dad," Avery murmured, arms embracing herself. "He... he instructed me to leave. I didn't know where to go."
Lucy felt the words beat her in the chest. Anger shot through her—hot, quick, protective. She, however, momentarily swallowed it and moved forward to hug Avery without hesitation. Rain immediately soaked them both, yet Lucy had no concern. Like Avery had been walking for hours, she also felt cold, too cold.
Lucy's tone was calm but firm as she stated, "Get in the car." "You're not staying out here one second; I've got you."
She directed Avery to the vehicle, opened the passenger door, and assisted her within. Avery tumbled into the chair, shuddering, and glazed out the rain-streaked window as though she lacked total consciousness of her surroundings.
Lucy lightly closed the door and then ran back to her side. Save for the rain pounding the roof and Avery's rare trembling breath, the trip home was silent. Each time Lucy looked at her—at her trembling hands, her soaked clothing, the empty gaze ahead—another surge of rage and anxiety swept her over.
Lucy's heart seemed too full—of feelings she had not yet processed—by the time they pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building.
Lucy turned on the lights inside the flat. Avery entered deliberately, water still gushing from her hair and clothing, thereby forming a tiny pool on the floor. She seemed weak, petite, as though one incorrect phrase could break her totally.
But Lucy did not hurry to console her this time.
Arms folded tightly, eyes bright with pain, she went ahead in front of Avery.
"Okay," she whispered, but the edge in her voice was clear. "We'll discuss."
Confused, Avery blinked. "Lucy, I—"
"No," Lucy said, her voice shaky with feelings she had been hiding for weeks. "You truly didn't believe I deserved to know anything? Not the night with Landon. Not the pregnancy. Not your dad kicking you out. Not anything at all?"
Avery gulped and lowered her sight toward the floor.
"I didn't want to bother you," she murmured.
That phrase hit Lucy harder than she anticipated.
"Bother me?" Frustration flared as Lucy got closer. "Avery, I am your best buddy. You bother me. That's literally the entire point. That's what I am here for."
Avery's breathing stopped. She continued to stare at the ground.
Lucy continued, her voice rising—not just in fury but in anguish as well. "Do you know how many nights I sat there wondering what changed? Why you kept pulling away? Why you acted like I wasn't part of your life anymore?"
Avery recoiled.
Lucy softened a little, but the fire didn't totally die. "I'm not furious you're pregnant or because things became difficult; I'm enraged you shut me out just when you most need me."
Avery at last turned upward. Tears glistened in her eyes once more; her lips trembled.
"Everything happened so fast," she murmured. "I didn't know how to speak. I didn't know how to... manage any of it. I was worried."
Lucy breathed out, her shoulders lowering as some of the strain lessened. Stepping closer, she smoothed a wet strand of hair off Avery's face.
"You should have told me," she mumbled. "Everything. I could have helped you before things got this bad. You don't need to carry everything alone."
At last Avery's tears overflowed. "I'm sorry," she murmured, "I promise...I won't close you out once more."
Lucy grabbed her into a hug—tight, protective, warm despite Avery's soaked attire. Avery fell into her arms and released a little, shattered sound.
Lucy said into her hair, "I love you, Avery," then added, "I'm furious because I care. Since you're my person. And you always will be."
Avery trembled and hung close to her. "Thank you," she said, "for finding me; for not giving up on me."
Lucy cuddled her tighter. "Come on. Warm and secure you are; we will solve everything else together. I promise."
And for the first time Avery let herself believe her friend that evening.
She now lacked company.