17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
AVA
T he scent of garlic bread and roasted vegetables wafts into the living room. The twins are on the floor in front of me, arguing gently over a puzzle piece shaped like a duck.
“It goes here ,” Liam says, pointing at a gap near the corner.
Noah frowns, turning it in his hands. “It doesn’t fit. You’re upside down.”
“I’m not upside down,” Liam mutters. “The duck is.”
A faint smile tugs at my lips as I tuck my legs beneath me on the couch. The room is warm, cozy, even familiar now. But there’s a weight in my chest that hasn’t eased all day.
Jackson still isn’t home.
I try not to glance at the clock again, but my eyes drift anyway: 5:47 p.m.
His text from this morning echoes in my head. Short, polite, vague.
I haven’t heard from him since. I keep telling myself not to read into it. Maybe he just wanted space. Maybe skating solo before practice helped him clear his head.
But the silence feels louder than it should.
Miss Taylor appears in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. “Dinner’s ready in five,” she says, her tone light. “Garlic bread’s already on the table if anyone’s starving.”
“Thank you,” I manage, a little quieter than usual.
She holds my gaze a beat longer than normal, but she doesn’t press. Then she disappears back into the kitchen.
I glance around the room, half-expecting to see Jackson appear in the doorway like he usually does after practice, dark hair still damp from a shower and grinning, a water bottle in hand.
Instead, I catch sight of his hoodie draped over the back of the armchair, and his empty coffee mug on the table.
He’s not here, but he’s everywhere.
Miss Taylor hums softly as she plates dinner, the gentle clink of silverware punctuating the quiet. She doesn’t ask what’s wrong, but I see the glance she sends my way.
I haven’t moved much since coming downstairs.
Didn’t eat lunch. Barely touched the toast she left out for breakfast. My stomach twists at the thought of dinner, even though the food smells amazing. I tell myself I’m just not hungry. That I’ll eat later.
But the truth is, I haven’t felt quite right since I woke up alone in his bed.
What did last night mean to him?
The question rises uninvited and lodges just beneath my ribs.
What did it mean to me?
“Dinner’s ready,” Miss Taylor calls out gently from the kitchen.
The twins leap to their feet, Noah grabbing Liam’s wrist as they race past me toward the kitchen. I push myself up, smoothing my sweater like that can somehow steady me.
I’m half listening as Noah animatedly recounts how the class hamster escaped, when the front door swings open.
I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat. The shuffle of shoes, the thunk of a hockey bag hitting the floor.
“Daddy’s home!” Liam calls.
Noah bolts from the table, socks sliding on the hardwood. “Did you win practice?”
Miss Taylor chuckles.
Then his voice, low, familiar, tired. “Hey, bud.”
He appears in the kitchen doorway, cheeks flushed from the cold and hair damp. His hoodie clings to his frame in a way that makes my heart clench.
Our eyes meet, and my stomach flips.
He hesitates, just a flicker, and then steps in, his eyes avoiding mine like it’s the easiest thing to do. But I can’t ignore the heaviness in the air. Everything feels different now.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“There’s still lasagna,” Miss Taylor says. “And a few slices of garlic bread, although it took some convincing to get Noah to save you any.”
Jackson smiles, although it looks strained. “Guess I owe him big.”
Dinner continues with deceptive ease. The twins chatter about school. Miss Taylor replenishes water glasses. Jackson slips effortlessly into dad mode: asking about school, letting Liam lean against his side.
And I sit across from him, forcing myself to eat, though what little appetite I had vanished the second he walked in.
Every glance he avoids feels like a conversation we’re both too afraid to start. His silence wraps around the room louder than any words could. I find myself watching his hands, remembering how they felt last night on my skin.
Now, he won’t even meet my eyes for more than a second.
I thought coming home might mean a smile. A word. Some unspoken acknowledgment.
Instead, we go through the motions.
And whatever this thing is between us, it stays untouched on the table, right next to my uneaten breadsticks.
After dinner, I clear plates just to have something to do. Jackson helps get the twins ready for bed. His voice low and patient, the sound of quiet giggles drifting down the hall.
When the dishes are rinsed, I slip out the back door.
The porch is dim, the sky soft with the fading light of dusk. I settle into the swing, pulling my knees to my chest. The night is cool and I shiver, tugging the sleeves of my hoodie over my hands.
The one I pulled on this morning after waking up alone.
I lean my head against the back of the swing and close my eyes.
Last night felt real . Unplanned, but steady in a way that caught me off guard. Like something we both reached for without meaning to. Like something we both needed.
And now I’m left wondering if I read it wrong.
The porch light clicks on behind me.
My heart rate spikes and I don’t move.
A moment later, the door creaks open, followed by the soft thud of bare feet against the wood.
I know it’s him before he says a word.
The swing dips slightly as Jackson eases down beside me.
He doesn’t speak at first. Just sits there, a careful distance between us, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped like we’re both trying to figure out how to exist in the same space again.
“I didn’t mean to disappear this morning,” he murmurs quietly. “I just… needed air. Time to think.”
I don’t respond right away, giving him space. Jackson’s quiet, his profile etched in the soft porch light.
“I thought this would be a simple plan,” he admits. “But nothing about this feels simple. Not after last night.”
My stomach knots. I turn toward him, heart pounding. “Are you saying we should stop?”
"I just need time… to process everything." He pauses, his eyes searching mine with a vulnerability I hadn’t expected. "I still want to help you. That hasn’t changed."
I feel something stir in me. Hope, maybe. But I can’t tell if it’s enough to bridge the gap between us, or if he’s just being kind. My pulse quickens, unsure of how to read him.
What did last night mean to him? Is he pulling back because he’s scared, or because he regrets it?
I want to ask, but the words die in my throat.
We fall quiet again, the only sound is the swing creaking beneath us.
Eventually, he stands. “I should check on the boys.”
I nod and he hesitates, like there’s something more he wants to say. In the dark, his blue eyes look almost black when I meet his uncertain gaze.
But instead, he just disappears back inside with a nod, leaving me with the night and everything still left unsaid.
Sighing, I head up to the guest room behind me, shutting the door behind me. I sit on the edge of the bed and kick off my slippers, toes curling against the rug. My legs feel heavy. My heart even more so.
We talked.
But somehow, it made the distance feel wider.
I change quickly and slide beneath the covers, the sheets cool against my skin. I stare up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the last twenty-four hours.
One night and everything feels different.
I don’t know what I expected. An answer, maybe. But instead, I’m left with the same questions, and Jackson’s hesitation still hanging in the air.
A small, traitorous voice whispers again before I can stop it.
Was it just a mistake for him?
I force a steady breath, willing it away, but it lingers anyway.
It’s only been a week and a half since I walked away from everything.
Maybe I need some space to clear my head too.
I close my eyes, exhaustion pulling me towards the edge of sleep.
Maybe tomorrow everything will feel a little less uncertain.