Chapter 10: New Beginnings
1635 Words
The praise was small.
It warmed her anyway.
The lesson continued.
Half an hour passed. Then forty minutes. Avery forgot, for several long stretches, to be self-conscious. She began to see patterns. Not well. Not quickly. But enough to understand why Nina might stare at a board when words were too much.
Chess was quiet.
Rules held. Pieces moved only certain ways. Threats could be seen if one knew how to look.
That kind of world must feel safe to someone whose real one had betrayed her.
Avery reached for her coffee and found it empty.
Callum noticed.
Of course he did.
He stood. “Another?”
“No, thank you.” Avery glanced at her phone. It was later than she expected. “I should go.”
“You know enough to begin?”
“I know enough to not insult the game immediately.”
“That’s a start.”
She closed the beginner’s book and ran a finger over the cover. “Can I borrow this?”
“It’s yours.”
Avery looked at him. “You bought it?”
“I asked Noah to.”
“For tonight?”
“For you.”
The words were simple.
Too simple.
Avery’s fingers tightened on the book.
She didn’t know what to do with this version of care. Jason gave grand apologies when cornered. Expensive promises after damage. Gifts that arrived late and meant less than the card they came with.
Callum gave her coffee because he noticed she disliked tea.
A chessboard because she wanted to help a child.
A book because he had already thought past tonight.
Avery stood before she could feel too much.
“Thank you,” she said. “For teaching me.”
Callum rose as well.
The city lights behind him made his reflection stretch across the glass wall. For the first time, Avery felt the height of the room, the night pressing around them, the fact that they were alone in his office after hours.
Her mind, unhelpful and traitorous, supplied a sentence.
This feels like a date.
She turned toward her bag too quickly.
Callum’s voice came from behind her. “Miss Collins.”
Avery stopped.
“Yes?”
“Jason offered to help too.”
Her back stiffened.
She slowly turned.
Callum’s expression gave nothing away. “You didn’t answer him.”
Avery lowered her eyes to the chess book in her hands.
“No.”
“Why?”
There was no accusation in the question.
That made it harder.
Avery thought about lying. Saying she hadn’t seen it. Saying she forgot. Saying Callum responded first.
But the room was too quiet for lies.
“I didn’t want to ask him,” she said.
Callum watched her.
Avery made herself continue. “I used to ask him first. For everything. Even when I knew he might not show up. Even when I knew I’d have to explain why it mattered, or pretend it didn’t matter when he forgot.” She smiled faintly, without humor. “Tonight, I saw his message and felt tired.”
Callum said nothing.
“I don’t want help that makes me feel smaller,” Avery said.
The words surprised her.
They were too honest.
Callum’s gaze changed.
Not softer.
Deeper.
“You shouldn’t have to,” he said.
Avery held the book against her chest.
There it was again.
That feeling of being seen too clearly.
“I should go,” she said.
This time, Callum did not stop her.
Noah was already waiting when she stepped out of the elevator. If he noticed the chess book in her arms or the expression on her face, he was wise enough not to comment.
The drive home was quiet.
Avery looked out at the city and tried to name what she felt.
Not happiness.
Not yet.
Something more fragile.
A loosening.
When she reached the Shaw house, the lights in the dining room were on.
That surprised her. Helen and George were supposed to be gone until late. Ruby was supposed to be trapped in college prep exile.
Instead, all three were there.
Ruby sat at the table in a sweatshirt, looking deeply persecuted. George Shaw was pouring wine. Helen was arranging dessert plates with the intensity of a woman pretending not to watch the door.
Avery stopped in the entryway. “What’s going on?”
Ruby pointed at herself. “I was released for good behavior.”
Helen gave her a look. “You complained about a stomachache.”
“It was emotional.”
George laughed. “Sit down, Ave.”
Avery slowly took off her coat. “Did something happen?”
Helen came over and took the coat from her. “No. We just thought you might want dinner at home.”
Avery looked at her mother.
Helen’s eyes were a little too bright.
Avery pretended not to notice.
“I ate a little,” she said. “But I can sit.”
Ruby leaned forward. “Why are you holding a chess book?”
“For work.”
Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “Since when do therapists need chess?”
“Since today.”
“Suspicious.”
“Study.”
“I’m on medical leave.”
“You had an emotional stomachache.”
“Exactly. Severe.”
Avery sat and placed the chess book beside her plate.
The meal was simple: roast chicken, salad, soup, bread still warm from the oven. Not a banquet. Not a performance. Just family filling the space where a wedding countdown used to be.
For a while, they ate without mentioning Jason.
Then George cleared his throat.
Avery braced herself.
Instead of saying Jason’s name, George pushed a small envelope across the table toward her.
Avery looked down.
“What’s this?”
“A little something,” George said.
Ruby sat up. “Wait. Do I get one?”
Helen placed a thick SAT prep book in front of Ruby.
Ruby stared at it.
Then at her mother.
“This is abuse.”
“This is support,” Helen said.
George chuckled. “Avery gets a little something because she’s had a difficult week. You get a little something because your college applications are trying to kill your mother.”
Ruby opened the book and recoiled. “It has practice tests.”
“Many,” Helen said.
Ruby looked betrayed. “Avery, as my sister and legal counsel—”
“I’m not your legal counsel.”
“As my emotional counsel—”
“I’m off duty.”
Ruby slumped in her chair. “Everyone in this family is corrupt.”
Avery laughed.
The sound surprised her.
Helen looked at her, then quickly looked away, as if afraid staring too hard would make it disappear.
Avery opened George’s envelope.
Inside was a gift card to a bookstore she loved, along with a smaller note in George’s careful handwriting.
For new beginnings. No one in this house thinks less of you for choosing yourself.
Avery’s throat tightened.
She looked up.
George’s expression was gentle, awkward in the way good men often became when emotion required words.
“I know I’m not your father,” he said.
Ruby went still.
Helen’s hand paused on her wineglass.
George continued, voice rougher. “But I’ve been lucky enough to have you in this family for a long time. If anyone makes you feel like leaving a bad marriage before it starts is something shameful, send them to me.”
Avery gripped the note.
For one wild second, she thought she might cry at the dinner table.
Instead, she smiled.
“I will.”
Ruby sniffed loudly. “If anyone wants violence, send them to me.”
Helen sighed. “No one is sending anyone to you.”
“I have range.”
“You have homework.”
Ruby looked at Avery. “When I get into my dream program, you’re buying me something better than a prep book.”
Avery folded George’s note carefully. “Deal.”
“Jewelry.”
“Maybe.”
“Expensive jewelry.”
“Pass your exams first.”
Ruby groaned, but she was smiling.
Later, after dinner, Avery carried the chess book, George’s note, and the bookstore gift card upstairs.
Her room was quiet. The rain had stopped completely, leaving the windows dark and clean.
She set the chess book on her desk.
Beside it, after a moment, she placed the envelope Callum had given her the night before.
Two very different things.
A settlement she had been afraid to accept.
A beginner’s chess book she had not known she needed.
Both sat there under the lamplight, proof of a new and unsettling truth.
Avery had spent years shrinking her needs into shapes Jason could tolerate.
She had called it love.
Tonight, Callum had not made her explain why helping Nina mattered. He had not made her feel dramatic for asking. He had not made himself the center of her problem.
He had simply answered.
Specifically.
Avery sat at the desk and opened the chess book to the first page.
Her phone lit up.
One message.
Callum Rhodes: Practice the knight. It’s the one most beginners underestimate.
Avery looked at the small diagram of the knight on the page.
Then at his message.
She typed back slowly.
Avery Collins: Are you calling me a beginner?
His reply came a moment later.
Callum Rhodes: I’m calling you someone who learns quickly.
Avery read it twice.
Then a third time.
Her smile came before she could stop it.
She set the phone down and looked at the envelope again.
Don’t let yourself be hurt.
For the first time, the sentence did not sound like an accusation against her past.
It sounded like permission.
Avery turned the page of the chess book and began to read.
- Writer
