Fries Before Guys (SWAT Generation 2.0 2)

She paused in what she was doing—handing my father and me guns of all sizes—to reach into the front seat and hand him a jump drive.

“These are your wedding photos,” she said. “I was going to mail them after this, but since you’re standing here…”

Dax pocketed the photos and started to unload her trunk.

We made four trips before it was all inside my living room.

“What do you want me to do with them?” I questioned when I got a load of my walls that were lined with so many firearms that it didn’t leave an inch of free space.

“I was going to pawn them,” she said softly. “But again, the twenty-one thing to have a handgun thing comes into play. So… I’m donating them to you. You can have them all.”

I frowned. “I don’t want them all. Avery, this is a small fortune.”

She looked at the living room with a shrug.

“Then I don’t know what to do with them. I’m doing what I can,” she said. “Also, do you know anyone who can move a safe the size of a small car?”

I didn’t, but I’d find out.

“I do,” Dax said. “The Safe Place on Central will do it. I’ll go talk to them today.”

Avery’s shoulders slumped.

“Which brings me to my next question.” She hesitated. “Where do I put a safe? I can’t take it to the Cascades with me.”

I looked at my dad who nodded once.

He understood what I wanted him to do.

“Avery, can I talk to you for a minute outside?” he asked.

Avery didn’t waste time in leaving my house.

The moment she was gone, I looked over at Dax.

“Avery’s moving out of her house sooner rather than later,” I said.

Dax drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

“That girl can’t catch a break,” he murmured.

“You’re gonna have to get my sister out of that duplex faster than we intended,” I said. “Avery’s moving into it this weekend.”

“Done,” Dax said. “She only has a few things there anyway. Furniture she didn’t want to part with after just buying it. But since mine is still nicer, she didn’t move it. And her clothes are over there, but we can figure something out for all the clothes.”

I looked at my dad and Avery who were talking quietly on my front porch.

I could see them through the front window.

And Avery’s face was hard as my dad tried his best to convince her to do what he wanted.

Avery shook her head furiously at whatever my dad had just said.

Then he pointed across the street at what I was assuming was the duplex we wanted her to move in to.

She followed his gaze, and her shoulders slumped.

She was already shaking her head again when my father turned back to regard her.

“Looks like she’s going to say no,” Dax said.

I was getting the same feeling.

But then Avery pressed her hands over her eyes and her shoulders started to shake.

“Fuck, that hurts,” Dax said.

He had no idea.

Twenty minutes later, Avery was once again standing in my living room.

My dad was leaving to go talk to my sister with Dax, and I was left standing there wondering what to do or say to make her feel better.

“Give me a ride back to your place and we can load your dad’s truck up with shit. I’ll drive it over here and we’ll park it in the driveway over there,” I said.

Avery nodded woodenly, walking stiffly out the front door.

I managed to jam myself into her front passenger seat and felt like a mini-pretzel as I did.

My knees were up against the dash, and my shoulders were curved in to the point of almost pain.

“You look ridiculous,” she teased.

I rolled my eyes and didn’t bother replying.

“Getting going would be beneficial to my joints,” I told her.

She snorted and started the car.

It purred to life, and I was damn proud of myself for making it run better if I did say so myself.

“This thing runs so much better with that new battery,” she said.

I noted a hint of sarcasm in her voice, causing me to grin.

“Yeah, imagine that,” I said. “All it took was a battery.”

She rolled her eyes to look at me, then snorted.

“Thank you for whatever you did to my car,” she said softly. “I appreciate it.”

I squeezed her hand quickly before letting it go.

I also pretended like it didn’t burn me the moment our skin touched.

God, I wanted to touch so much more than her hand.

“You’re sure you’re not busy?” she asked as she turned out of the duplex road and headed toward her house.

We lived less than five minutes apart.

I ran past her house at least once a week during my long runs.

So the drive wasn’t too long, and we were pulling into her full driveway.

“I’m not,” I said. “I have to run by the hardware store at some point today, but today they have normal hours, so I won’t have to hurry.”