30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
JACKSON
T he front door opens before I can even reach for the handle.
Noah barrels out first, arms flung wide. “Daddy!”
I barely have time to crouch before both boys launch into me, backpack straps bouncing, shoes untied, full-volume chaos. I pull them in close. They’re warm, loud, and exactly what I need.
“Did you see the games?” I ask.
“We watched the first periods!” Liam says proudly.
“And I told Ava that dragons can skate!” Noah adds, grinning.
Ava laughs softly behind me. I glance up, catching her smile. God, I love the way she looks at them.
"I missed you guys," I say, kissing the tops of their heads.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a welcome blur of building Lego towers and chasing them in the backyard. Ava effortlessly moves through it all like she’s always belonged here.
I can’t stop watching her. Can’t stop feeling how much I want the noise to die down, the day to end, the house to quiet so I can finally be alone with her.
Dinner is all chatter and overlapping voices, Noah and Liam trading stories, Ava laughing beside me, Miss Taylor chiming in with her usual calm presence. When I pass the garlic bread, Ava brushes her fingers against mine. A small, accidental touch.
But it lingers.
After dinner, Miss Taylor herds the boys upstairs to get ready for bed. The moment they disappear down the hall, the house feels quieter. Dimmer. Settled.
She pauses. Looks up at me.
“I missed you,” I murmur.
Her breath hitches. “I missed you, too.”
I don’t remember closing the distance—just her hands sliding up my chest and her mouth finding mine. The kiss is soft at first, then deeper, all that time apart falling away.
I lift her, and she laughs as I carry her up the stairs. In my room, I set her down and we pause, foreheads touching.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur into her hair.
“I know.”
I kiss her again—unhurried—and nudge the door closed. The rest of the night is warm skin and quiet yeses, the kind of night that feels like coming back to something I didn’t know I’d lost.
Feels so damn good to be home.
By the time the sun rises, I’m already up and moving.
Ava’s still asleep, her dark hair spilling across the pillow, her body curled on her side. I don’t wake her. She’s been running herself ragged with gala prep, and she needs the rest.
Practice goes by in a blur. Even with Game 5 tonight, my head’s somewhere else.
Back home. Back with her.
By the time I get home, the boys are already back from school, backpacks dumped by the door and snack wrappers strewn across the counter like confetti.
Ava’s sitting cross-legged in the living room with Liam, helping him with a craft project, while Noah runs in circles wearing a cardboard crown.
It’s chaotic, loud, familiar. And somehow, even better than I remembered.
Ava glances up when I walk in, and her smile hits me straight in the chest—that easy, unguarded kind that says she’s glad I’m here. I drop my bag near the door and step into the living room as she reaches across Liam to help with a glue stick.
She meets my gaze again, then glances at the boys before looking back at me—gives a subtle tilt of her head, a look that says, let’s do this.
It’s time.
I clear my throat lightly and move toward the couch, nudging a few snack crumbs aside as I sit. “Hey,” I say, glancing between the boys. “Can you guys come sit here in the living room for a second?”
Liam pauses, looking up from his construction paper. “Are we in trouble?”
“No,” Ava says gently, patting the seat beside her. “Not at all.”
Noah flops down immediately, still wearing his crown. Liam follows, crawling up beside me. We’re all crowded together now—elbows brushing, knees knocking, energy still buzzing from the school day.
I rest a hand on each of their small backs. “There’s something Ava and I want to tell you.”
They go still. Curious.
“You know how Ava’s been staying here?” I begin.
They nod fast.
“Well… there’s something else. Something important.”
Ava leans in, voice warm but steady. “You know how sometimes people start out as friends…”
“And then sometimes those friends care about each other a little more,” I add, keeping my tone light but sure.
Noah’s brow furrows. “Like boyfriend and girlfriend?”
Ava smiles gently. “Exactly like that.”
Liam looks from her to me, then back again. “You’re Ava’s boyfriend?”
I feel a smile pull at my mouth. “Yeah, buddy. I am.”
“And she’s your girlfriend?” Noah asks, eyes wide.
Ava lets out a soft laugh, glancing at me. “That’s right.”
There’s a beat of silence as the boys process.
Noah beams. “That’s cool.”
Liam tilts his head. “Does that mean Ava’s gonna stay here forever?”
Ava looks at me, her eyes soft, and I can see her throat move as she swallows.
“That means,” I say slowly, “we hope so. We’ll give it a shot, if you two are okay with that.”
They glance at each other, eyes wide, and then identical grins spread across their faces.
In the next instant, they’re both launching themselves at Ava, giggling as they wrap their arms around her.
She catches them with a small gasp, laughing through tears. By the time the boys finally let Ava breathe again, her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are shining.
“I think they’re okay with it,” I murmur, leaning back with a grin.
Ava looks at me, her eyes bright and full. And for a second, I forget about the weight of the game ahead. I forget about everything except this.
This messy, beautiful, unexpected life.
And it reminds me—I still need to talk to Greg. I promised Ava I would, and after seeing this, I want him to know exactly where I stand.
I lean in and press a kiss to her lips before I can stop myself.
Noah lets out a dramatic groan. “Ew! Gross!”
Liam covers his eyes. “You’re kissing in the kitchen!”
Ava laughs against my mouth, cheeks flushed as she pulls back. “Sorry, guys.”
“Not sorry,” I mutter, brushing a hand down her back. The boys fake gag again, and we both burst out laughing.
Later, while the boys do their homework, Ava walks over and rests a hand lightly on my arm.
“I’ll be at the game tonight,” she says.
I blink. “You sure? I figured you’d be knee-deep in gala prep.”
“I am,” she says with a soft laugh. “But I want to support you. I want to be there.”
I study her for a second. She’s holding herself steady, but I can see the tired edges around her eyes. Still, there’s something quiet and determined in the way she’s looking at me.
I nod, brushing my hand over hers. “I’m glad,” I say.
And I mean it. Not just because I want her there, but because maybe sitting in the arena for a couple hours means she’ll finally let herself take a break.
By five-thirty, I’m back at the arena. Lights brighter. Arena louder. Stakes higher.
In the locker room, there are no jokes, no distractions. Just the weight of what’s coming. Even Russo’s quiet, which says everything.
Everyone’s dialed in. Taping sticks, lacing skates, going through their rituals. Music pulses low through the speakers, but it’s not the usual chaotic mix of genres. Tonight, there’s more focus and less noise.
I keep my head down and go through my routine: stretch, hydrate, gear up. Around me, the guys move with that same disciplined energy. Coach Barrett keeps it short when he walks in. Doesn’t need to say much. We know what tonight means.
When the anthem ends and the puck drops, everything narrows. The roar of the crowd blurs into a dull hum. It’s just us. The game.
And from the first shift, I know: we got this.
Every pass clicks. Every line pulls weight. Ava’s somewhere up there in the stands. Just knowing she’s here is enough. It’s like having a center of gravity again. Like something in my life is finally aligned, and that steadiness bleeds into how I play.
We bury one late in the first. Another early in the second. Boston answers back once, but we hold the line. And in the third, when the clock’s winding down and they pull their goalie, it’s all instinct.
I win the puck along the boards, turn, fire.
The puck slices clean into the empty net. Game over.
The horn sounds like a shot to the chest. My lungs finally exhale. We did it.
We’re on to Round 3.
Everyone rushes the ice. Gloves fly. Russo tackles me, shouting something I can’t hear over the roar. I’m grinning so hard it hurts. Not just from relief, but pride.
Fierce. Earned. Electric.
I spot her in the WAGs section, on her feet, hands in the air, grinning like she knew all along this would be the outcome.
My chest tightens. Not from the win, but from her.
I’m so damn glad she was here for this.