Saving Avery Read Online Free PDF Page B

into the living room where I know he'll be waiting. Nathan is sitting in his favorite leather recliner with his eyes glued to the clock on the wall. His three-piece tailored black suit looks impeccable, as always. The charcoal-colored tie is pulled loose from around his neck, and the first three buttons of his white linen shirt are unbuttoned. His blond hair is disheveled as if he spent some time running his hands through it just moments earlier. His expression remains impassive as he states, "You're twenty minutes late."
    I can't tell yet if he's angry or very angry. There is a big difference when it comes to Nathan, and it can mean the difference between letting things slide or getting hit. "I-I ran into s-some traffic on the way home from the h-hospital," I stammer nervously.
    He stands, and those light blue eyes that I have come to fear so much pierce right through me. "Maybe volunteering at the hospital isn't such a good idea after all, Avery."
    Panic begins to set in. He can't take that away from me. It's the only reprieve I have from this glass and metal prison he calls our home. "It won't happen again," I whisper.
    "Speak up!" he barks.
    "It won't happen again," I say, louder this time.
    He nods and walks over to me. I resist the urge to flinch under his gaze and touch as he leans in and gently kisses my forehead. "It better not," he warns. He pulls back and stares at me for a few seconds. "Well, I guess dinner is out of the question since you're ---." He pauses and checks his watch. "Twenty-three minutes behind. You're lucky I'm in the mood for Chinese tonight."
    "I'll get the menu," I suggest, thankful for the excuse to get away from him.
    "Change first into something a little more suitable," he says as he walks into the kitchen.
    Nathan has a particular taste for the clothes I wear, and scrubs and sneakers are definitely not part of that particular taste. I rush into the bedroom and change into a beige shift dress. My hands are shaking as I zip up the back. He hasn't punished me for being late…yet. I close my eyes and take a deep breath and say a little prayer that everything stays calm between us until he goes to bed.
    When I walk into the kitchen, Nathan is at the breakfast bar pouring a glass of wine. His eyes boldly peruse the length of my body. "Much better," he remarks before taking a sip from his glass.
    My lips curl into a tentative smile, and I pull open a drawer to search for the menu. I try to steady my trembling hand as I offer him the tri-folded piece of paper. Instead of grabbing the menu, he grips my wrist and pulls me roughly against him. He stares down at me, his index finger gently grazing my cheek.
    I swallow hard and wonder if, or perhaps when, he's going to punish me. Being with Nathan feels like constantly being trapped in a small room with a venomous snake. You never know when it's going to strike, but you know it will eventually happen and that it will hurt.
    "When are you going to let me make you an appointment?" he asks. I cringe inwardly. He always brings up the discussion of me having plastic surgery. In fact, it's one of his favorite topics. His eyes dart around my face as he silently picks out all of my imperfections that only he can see, that he always sees when he looks at me. "We could start small with some Botox around your eyes and mouth." His eyes drag down my form. "Definitely need some lipo," he mutters before sighing heavily. "It would take a lot of work, but I could make you better, Avery. I could make you beautiful."
    His words slice right through me, and I squeeze my eyes tight to force myself not to cry. Nathan hasn't paid me a compliment since we first started dating when he used to tell me I was the most beautiful girl he had ever met. Since we've been married, his critiques of me get worse and worse. I would never go under anyone's knife, especially not his. I know I'm not perfect, but I used to be secure with my body image. I used to have a sense of self-worth and