5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
AVA
W hen I wander back to the guest room and close the door behind me, the soft click echoes louder than it should. I notice how still the house is once the twins are tucked in and the lights are dimmed.
I cross to the window and draw back the curtain a few inches. Outside below, the porch swing rocks lazily in the breeze, its motion almost hypnotic. Somewhere beyond the yard, a pair of owls hoot back and forth.
But all I can think about is Jackson’s voice a few moments ago.
You want to come to practice tomorrow? Meet the team?
The invitation was so casual I almost missed it. Like he just tossed it out there, not really expecting me to say yes. And honestly, I wasn’t expecting to even consider it.
I’m not sure what surprises me more: that he asked me at all, or that a part of me actually wants to go.
I leave the window and sink down onto the edge of the bed, absentmindedly pulling at my sweatshirt. It’s soft, worn at the elbows, one of the ones Jenna grabbed for me.
My thoughts spin as I pull my knees up to my chest.
Part of me knows I’m in triage mode, letting the emotional fallout of my fiancé’s betrayal hit me in small waves. Because the full tidal crash would break me in half.
But the idea of a practice rink, a quiet place in the stands, a little distance from the wreckage of my almost-marriage…
It doesn’t sound so bad.
It’s just practice. A place with strangers who don’t know me, who won’t ask questions or look at me with pity. That feels like a gift.
I think about the way Jackson looked at me tonight. Not like I was broken. Not like I was a burden. Just… like he saw me. And maybe didn’t mind having me here.
The covers rustle as I slide under them, pulling the comforter to my chin. I close my eyes, but my thoughts don’t follow. They’re skating ahead, fast and unpredictable.
It’s been more than twenty-four hours since I ran from the altar. Since my entire future shifted, like a fault line beneath my feet.
I should be curled up in a ball somewhere, too heartbroken to breathe. But instead, I am in a warm, safe place, thinking about going to the Pittsburgh SteelClaws practice rink tomorrow.
And if I’m honest…
Maybe I just want to watch him skate.
The thought makes me laugh: quiet, breathless, and a little embarrassed.
What is wrong with me?
The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a single lamp, but soon my gaze turns back to my phone.
I don’t want to pick it up.
But I do.
It lights up the second I touch it, and the screen floods with notifications. Missed calls. Texts. Voicemails. All from the same names.
Brad (27)Mom (6)Greg (1)
I swipe into the messages, against my better judgment. A new wave from Brad has come in since this morning.
Ava, please just hear me out.
You’re blowing this way out of proportion.
It didn’t mean anything.
Why are you punishing me like this?
Your parents must be freaking out.
Please, I still love you.
Come home.
My chest tightens, and I press my palm to my sternum. The desperation in his tone is only rivaled by the guilt trips. I know this pattern. The whiplash of charm and manipulation.
And I’m not falling for it again.
I exit the message thread before I lose my nerve and click to call my mom instead.
It only rings once.
“Ava.” Her voice comes through the line fast and breathless. “Oh, thank God.”
My throat constricts instantly. “Hi, Mom.”
“Honey, are you okay? Where are you? Greg and Jenna said you’re safe, and that Jackson is helping you?”
“I’m okay. I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “Yes, I’m with Jackson. He found me freaking out before the wedding. Drove me here. I… I didn’t know where else to go, and he offered. I’ve been here since.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes, relief flooding her voice. “That boy always did look out for you.”
Her words settle over me like a blanket.
“I figured you’d be home by now,” I say quietly. “Did you make it back okay?”
“Yes. We landed this morning. Your dad’s…” She pauses. “Well, he’s here. He wants to talk, but—”
In the background, I hear his voice clearly.
“Tell her she’s better off. Good riddance to that son of a bitch.”
“ Richard ,” she snaps, her voice sharp.
I blink, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
Her tone softens again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. He’s just angry. We both are. Jenna told us what happened. I liked Brad, I’ll admit it. He was charming. Polite. But I never imagined he’d do something like this. I feel like I failed you somehow.”
“You didn’t,” I whisper. “None of this is on you.”
She sighs into the line. “I should’ve asked more questions. Should’ve listened to my gut. Something always felt a little… off.”
“Same,” I admit. “I just didn’t want to believe it.”
There’s a silence, less heavy with shock and more like understanding settling gently between us.
“Your dad and I can come back up there. We don’t have to stay long. We just want to see you, make sure you’re okay.”
I swallow hard. “Thanks, Mom. Really. But I think I just need a little more time to... process everything.”
“Okay,” she says softly. “We love you.”
“I love you too.”
We say our goodbyes, and when I hang up, the quiet in the room rushes back in.
The call doesn’t fix everything, but it helps. My mom’s voice makes me feel a little more anchored.
I told her I was with Jackson, and she didn’t question it. Probably because she already knows the kind of person he is.
And because he’s always been the one to catch me when I fall.
My parents moved to Florida last year: retirement, sunshine, and all the clichés that come with it. It still feels strange, knowing the house I grew up in belongs to someone else. That home is more of a feeling than a place now.
I lie back against the pillows, letting the warmth of the blankets and the hum of the house settle around me.
I think about Liam and Noah. Six years old, all energy and snack demands. And somehow, even only after one day, already kind to me in a way I didn’t expect.
Noah’s a hurricane. Unfiltered and full of opinions. But Liam… he’s a little more cautious. Quieter. He hovers a second longer before speaking and watches people when they’re not looking.
There’s a seriousness to him that reminds me of myself as a kid.
Earlier today, when I asked if he wanted help finishing his Lego build, he didn’t answer right away. Just gave me a long look before handing over one of the small blue pieces without a word. I wasn’t sure if that meant I passed a test, but a few minutes later, he let me help him sort the colors.
I think that was his version of trust.
The thought makes my chest ache, warm and heavy.
I’m not sure what I’m doing here, or what it means that, even after just one day, I already feel more at ease in Jackson’s house than I ever did in the apartment I shared with Brad.
I close my eyes and just breathe. Just existing in this small quiet moment.
And I’m surprised how the idea of tomorrow doesn’t feel like something I have to survive.
It feels like something I might be okay walking toward.
The house is still when I wake up.
There’s a faint glow behind the curtains, gray and peaceful.
For a moment, I consider rolling over and hiding under the covers, pretending the last few days never happened.
Pretending I didn’t agree to maybe show up at a hockey rink this morning, as if my whole life hasn’t just been flipped upside down.
But instead, I sit up.
The floor is cold beneath my feet as I stand and stretch. I pull on jeans and one of my long-sleeved tees Jenna brought over, then pad down the hall in my socks. The house creaks softly, like it’s just waking up, too.
In the kitchen, Jackson is hunched over the counter, zipping up a massive black duffel bag with the Pittsburgh SteelClaws logo stretched across the side. His hair is still damp from a shower, and there’s a coffee mug half-drained beside him.
He doesn’t hear me at first, and for a moment, I just watch him: steady, focused, strong.
He straightens when he spots me. “Hey. You’re up.”
I nod, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.
“Didn’t want to bail on my maybe.”
That gets a real smile from him. Quick but warm.
“Glad you didn’t.”
“I wasn’t sure if I would go,” I admit, grabbing a travel mug and filling it with coffee. “But… I kind of want to.”
He watches me for a second, then nods like he gets it. “It’s low-key. Just skate drills and puck work. No spotlight.”
I nod, but there’s still a nervous flutter in my chest. I’m not sure what I expected this morning to feel like. Panic, maybe. Regret. But instead, there’s a strange sort of calm.
Until the doorbell rings.
I freeze.
Jackson frowns, already stepping toward the foyer. “It’s early for deliveries,” he mutters under his breath, setting his gear bag down.
I follow him toward the entryway slowly, unease prickling beneath my skin.
My stomach sinks. It’s early and they aren’t expecting anyone. And suddenly, before the knob even turns, I know who it is.
Jackson pulls open the door.
And there he is.
Brad.
Blonde hair perfectly disheveled. Sleeves rolled to his forearms. The top two buttons of his shirt undone, like he threw it on in a hurry. He looks exactly the same. Like the man I almost married, except all I can see now is the lie.
His eyes land on me immediately, wide and pleading.
“Ava.”
Every part of me goes cold.
Jackson steps instinctively between us and just like that, the quiet morning shatters.