20. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
JACKSON
I almost knocked on her hotel door.
That thought’s been haunting me the last few days. It followed me through video review with Coach Barrett this morning, the post-game debriefs yesterday, and even while helping the boys with their costumes this afternoon. And now, driving them over to Ava’s storytelling event, it’s still there.
Late that last night in New Jersey, ice bucket in hand, I found myself slowing in front of her door.
Because some selfish, reckless part of me wanted to see her. To close the distance.
But I didn’t deserve that. Not after pulling away. Not when I’m still figuring out what it means to let someone in again.
And not when she’s Greg’s sister.
So, I turned around.
Just walked back to my room and shut the door behind me, like that would be enough to shut the rest of it out.
It wasn’t.
“Daddy!” Noah’s voice slices through my thoughts. “Liam’s sword is stabbing me!”
“It is not,” Liam mumbles, stiff in his booster seat.
I glance in the rearview. Noah flaps his arms in his green fleece dragon costume, the shiny wings fluttering as he moves. His face is painted with gold and orange swirls, which he insisted was fire, and his tail keeps bouncing against the seat. He’s chaos incarnate.
Liam, on the other hand, is sitting perfectly upright.
He’s wearing a sleek silver knight costume, a plastic sword resting carefully across his lap.
A lightweight helmet sits slightly askew his neatly brushed hair.
His fingers curl around the handle of his sword, like he’s bracing himself.
He’s quieter than usual. He always is in new places.
But I know seeing Ava will fix that.
Liam lights up around her in a way that never fails to soften something deep in my chest.
Ava is already at the convention center. She went early to set up. Miss Taylor said the boys talked nonstop about this event while we were gone, that they couldn’t wait to dress up and see Ava at story time. It’s a quarter to four now, and we’re running exactly on time.
The boys fall into a light bicker about whether dragons can read. Noah insists they can, and I can’t help but smile in the rearview mirror.
But as I drive, my mind drifts back to New Jersey.
Back to the games. The boardwalk. The way her laugh unlatched something in me I hadn’t even realized was locked up.
My grip tightens on the wheel.
But now nothing about being with her feels fake. It feels easy. Real.
“Daddy.” Liam’s voice is quiet. “Do you think Ava will like our costumes?”
I glance at him in the mirror. His brow is furrowed under the helmet, his fingers nervously tapping on his plastic sword.
“She’s going to love them, buddy.”
He nods, some of the tension easing from his shoulders, and something inside me does the same.
When I pull into the community center’s parking lot, Liam and Noah scramble to grab their props. I turn around to face them.
“You boys ready to impress?”
Liam gives a tentative nod, eyes flicking toward the building.
Noah pumps his tail in the air. “Dragon’s always ready.”
The lobby doors swing open with a quiet hiss, and we step into a swirl of color and kid-sized chaos.
Liam clings to my side immediately, his fingers gripping my jacket. I glance down. His eyes are wide, scanning the room, already overwhelmed. I crouch a little, adjusting his helmet.
“You good, bud?” I murmur.
He gives a stiff nod, but I can feel the tension in him. Noah, meanwhile, launches ahead in a flurry of felt wings and tail swishes, immediately drawn toward the craft table.
The community center’s main room is buzzing. Book-themed decorations line the walls, tables are set up with crayons and storybook trivia cards, and soft music plays over the hum of chatter. Parents and volunteers move through the space, but my eyes are searching for just one person.
Ava’s near the front, talking to a volunteer. Her hair’s in a ponytail, and she’s wearing jeans and a navy shirt with the Open Pages logo. When she turns, her whole face lights up.
She starts toward us, weaving between tables, and when she crouches in front of Liam, her voice is soft and warm. “Whoa. Is that Sir Liam, defender of the book kingdom?”
Liam’s mouth twitches. “I’m a knight,” he whispers, but there’s a hint of pride in it now.
“I can see that,” she says seriously. She adjusts his helmet gently. “You know, we need knights today. The story time dragon is very mischievous.”
That earns a tiny smile. His grip on my jacket loosens.
Then Ava glances up at me, and something shifts behind her eyes. “Hey,” she says. “Perfect timing.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I say, voice low.
Noah bounds back over, thrusting a glittery bookmark in the air. “Look what I made! It says DRAGONS RULE.”
Ava laughs. “They definitely do. But knights keep ‘em in line, right Liam?”
Liam nods, a little more confident now, stepping forward on his own.
Just like that, the tension eases. The boys follow her toward the activity tables, their chatter rising as Ava guides them through the crowd. She moves through the space like she was born to do this. Gentle, capable, magnetic.
I used to think caring about someone else would mean letting Claire go. But maybe it’s just about holding her memory differently.
The next hour is a blur of craft tables, sticker sheets, costume parades, and the kind of laughter that makes everything else fade out.
Ava moves through it all with ease, somehow everywhere at once. She’s helping kids pick out books, crouching next to Noah to admire his glitter-covered tail, and giving Liam a quiet nod when he hesitates near a crowded station.
Now, the crowd’s shifting again, blankets being spread, kids settling near the front.
It’s story time.
Liam’s sitting next to Noah, his plastic sword across his lap, eyes wide as the volunteer reader starts in a theatrical voice.
I stay off to the side, leaning against one of the support columns. From this angle, I can see the full room. There’s books stacked on tables, kids in paper crowns or fairy wings, parents chatting over juice boxes and mini muffins.
It’s chaos. Beautiful, well-managed chaos.
And Ava’s in the center of it like it’s second nature.
She leans toward Liam when the reader switches to a new character voice, whispering something that makes him nod. Noah’s already lost in the story, but Liam keeps glancing up at her like she’s the only person anchoring him in the room.
A little girl in a sparkly cape darts by, and I step out of the way just in time to avoid getting clipped by her wand. Jenna appears at my side a second later, holding a half-empty cup of lemonade.
“Didn’t take you for a story time kind of guy,” she says without looking at me.
“Not sure I am,” I chuckle. “But I’d show up for that dragon and knight any day.”
Her gaze flicks to the boys, then to Ava. She studies me for a beat, quiet, unreadable.
“I’m glad you’re here for her, Jackson. She really needs someone solid in her corner right now."
I glance down, my throat constricting. “Yeah.”
“She looks lighter,” Jenna continues. “Still figuring things out, but more at ease.”
I don’t reply because I don’t know how to explain what it feels like to watch Ava come alive again. The way she laughed on the boardwalk in New Jersey. The way she looked at me after the second win, like maybe I wasn’t just a safe place to land, but something more.
Suddenly, a cheer goes up from the front of the room. Jenna excuses herself as the volunteer finishes the story, and Jenna and Ava lean forward to pass out sticker badges: one to each child. Noah accepts his with a roar. Liam beams when Ava sticks his badge onto his breastplate.
They look up at me, and I give them a thumbs-up. Liam smiles, real and open. I haven’t seen him like that in a long time.
And I wonder how much of this is actually fake, because it doesn’t feel like pretending anymore.
It feels like home.
I let the moment settle around me.
Then I feel it. Something shifts in the air, like the room has gotten heavier.
I look toward the entrance, my muscles tensing instinctively.
And then I see him.
It’s Brad, standing in the doorway, scanning the room.
My jaw clenches, my fists clenching before I even realize it.
What the hell is he doing here?