Cruz
I leaned against my bike, chewing the inside of my cheek, watching Avery move around the med shack like she f*****g owned the place.
Not in a bad way. Not in that entitled, bossy kind of way.
No—Avery made the space hers with quiet determination. She was elbow-deep in bleach and bins, humming something under her breath while sorting the third first-aid kit this week. The shack was looking less like a tetanus trap and more like a damn clinic.
There were new curtains she probably got from some discount bin. A rug I hadn't seen before. A fold-out cot tucked in the corner that had no business making me feel things, but it did.
She was carving out her own little territory in our world.
And smiling while she did it.
That was the kicker—she was happy. Comfortable in this chaos. Like s
