13. Ava
Chapter Thirteen
Ava
Sunset nerves
I hobbled into the bathroom, anxiously checking my hair in the mirror. I was rushing around, if you could call awkward, uneven crutch-hopping “rushing.”
My hair looked, well, fine. “Right,” I said to myself. “Who cares if Tanner and I are just friends? That’s for the best. I mean, I just got divorced six months ago.” I took a shaky breath. “Oh my God, I’m having a full-on conversation with my reflection,” I muttered aloud.
With a sigh, I turned away and crutched my way back to the couch. Josie had texted earlier—she’d be bringing me my foster cat tomorrow, and I really wished he were already here. I needed something, anything, to focus on other than myself and my nerves.
Distraction had been working, sort of. I’d thrown myself into a glorious binge of real estate shows, marveling at luxury kitchens I’d never afford, and switched over to my beloved baking shows.
The Great British Baking Show was basically therapy for my soul—low-stakes drama and bakes I’d never attempt but could dream about.
Once, I even made one of their technical recipes.
It turned out great. Brad had scoffed at it. Whatever.
I happened to catch a glimpse out the window and stilled. The sunset spread across the sky like a glorious watercolor—lavender and pink mingling with orange streaks, rimmed in gold and hugging the jagged line of the mountain ridge. It was so stunning it took my breath away.
“Wow,” I whispered.
Just then, my phone vibrated on the coffee table. I clumsily crutched over, dropped onto the couch, and grabbed it.
Tanner: On the way. Should be there in about 10 minutes.
My stomach flipped. I wanted to jump up and check the mirror again. I didn’t. I looked fine. Yet I hated how insecure I felt. Brad had really done a number on me. Finding out he’d cheated hurt like hell, but the comments he’d made to justify it had stuck.
Apparently, I didn’t put enough effort into my appearance. I was “too tense” in bed. I guess I didn’t fake it well enough for his fragile ego. Fuck my life.
Not that I had a whole lot of experience to compare with for my sexual escapades. Just Brad. I was pretty sure he wasn’t exactly a gold standard. He got off on choking. That had been so not fun.
“Everybody’s into it,” he’d said.
Except I wasn’t. At all. I’d never dared bring it up with friends.
But—thank you, internet—turns out it’s a thing an unfortunate number of guys assume women like.
Also, it turns out it’s actually quite dangerous.
It’s the second most common cause of stroke in women under forty. What the actual fuck?
So yeah. Dating didn’t sound super appealing. I sighed. Tanner is just bringing you dinner.
Maybe we kissed. Once.
I turned the TV back on just to settle myself. Thank goodness Tate had already set up all the streaming services. I still hadn’t met the guy, but he’d texted a quick welcome and told me to reach out to him or Josie if I needed anything. I already had everything. More than I deserved, honestly.
Technically, I could work remotely. I was a glorified receptionist who ran the entire office. I earned decent money. Not rich, not poor, just busy and usually over-worked. I carried a lot for my family, especially after my sister died.
Don’t go there, now, I ordered myself.
I took another breath. It’s just because you’re lonely. That was what this jittery, stupid excitement was. The crunch of gravel interrupted my spiral. I jumped up, nearly forgot my crutch, wobbled, cursed, grabbed it, and hobbled to the door. Just in time to see Tanner step out of his truck.
“Hey there!” he called.
“Hi!” I called back, way too enthusiastic for someone opening a door.
He grinned as he jogged up the steps with three paper bags.
“What’d you get?” I asked.
“Have you been to the Gallery Café?”
“No, but I’ve heard of it.”
“They’ve got staples and rotating themes. This week’s theme is Mediterranean.”
I squealed. “I’m so excited!”
His grin widened, and my belly somersaulted. Heat flushed up my neck and into my cheeks. Blush central. I prayed he’d chalk it up to the cold air.
“Come in, come in,” I said, stepping back carefully.
“Easy there,” he warned as I teetered a bit.
“I got it. Turns out, crutches take a lot of coordination.”
He closed the door behind him, his gaze warm and a little amused. “You could try using both crutches, you know.”
“But I’m in my own house, and one’s easier. Ever had to use crutches?”
“Once. Sprained my ankle when I played football in high school.”
“Of course you played football.”
He chuckled and kicked off his boots on the way to carrying the bags to the kitchen counter. I slid onto a stool beside the island and tried very hard not to drool over the way his T-shirt fit his shoulders. He was so hot it was ridiculous.
“What do you mean ‘of course’ I played football?” he teased.
“I mean…” I gestured to his tall, muscled everything. “You look like you did.”
He was quiet for a beat before he shrugged. “I was decent. Didn’t love it. My dad wanted me to play.”
“Ah, that kind of thing. I understand.”
He raised a brow. “Your dad wanted you to play football?”
I laughed. “No. Just parental expectations. Most of us deal with that one way or another.”
He started unpacking food containers. Hummus, pita bread, something on skewers, and all of it yummy-smelling. “What did your parents expect from you?” he asked.
I hesitated. “Kind of everything.” He paused and looked over at me. “My younger sister had medical issues. So I was the kid who had to take care of everything.”
His hands stilled. “Is she okay?”
I swallowed. “She passed away. It was sort of expected.”
His expression softened, and he laid both palms flat on the counter. “I’m really sorry.”
I gave him a small smile. “It’s okay.”
Somehow, in that tiny kitchen, surrounded by food containers and the late evening sunlight angling through the windows, I felt something shift. This tiny exchange made me feel like I wasn’t carrying everything alone anymore.
“I miss her,” I added, “because she was awesome. But it wasn’t unexpected. We knew it could happen eventually.”
Tanner nodded slowly. “Loss is hard. Grief’s usually complicated.”
There was something about the way he said it that made me think he understood. Grief was one messy thing.
“Do you have any siblings?” I asked, curious.
His eyes lit up. “Oh, I do. My younger sister, Sophie. She’s a firecracker.”
There was something about that warmth in his expression that made my chest ache. I liked seeing him like that.
“Anyway,” he said, as he slid his hips onto a stool. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” I replied firmly.
After days of hospital meals, I had held off eating this afternoon specifically to enjoy whatever magic Tanner would bring.
It was worth the wait. He laid everything out on the kitchen island like it was a Mediterranean banquet: creamy hummus, bright tabbouleh, pillowy fresh pita bread, olives, roasted veggies, lemony grilled chicken skewers, some kind of savory lentil dish, and baklava for dessert.
My mouth watered. “You went all out. We could sit at the table, but honestly, this stool is my sweet spot. It’s easier than getting up from a chair.”
“Let’s eat,” he said.
We dug in, and despite the electric current of attraction zipping around between us—hello, still hormonally unhinged—it was easy, really easy, to be with Tanner.
He was funny and chatted casually. He told a ridiculous story about one of his early days as a hotshot firefighter involving a rogue chipmunk, an overturned backpack, and all the snacks that got lost to that chipmunk.
I was laughing so hard I snorted. “Oh my God,” I said, wheezing. “You’re telling me chipmunks are your greatest threat?”
He grinned. “Fire second. Chipmunks first.”
As we ate, he filled me in on Willow Brook’s small-town happenings—gossip-light, nothing unkind.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be here,” I told him at one point.
“Well, the rumor is at least a month,” he said, nudging my booted foot lightly with his. “Doctor’s orders.”
“Yeah. I could try to fly back sooner, but it’d mean arranging and paying for special accommodations, and honestly, I kind of like the distance.
” He held my gaze, quiet but attentive. “It’s not that I want to be dramatic about it,” I added, “but it’s been nice to have space from my parents and the whole mess of my life.
” That earned a sympathetic nod. I hesitated, then kept going.
“The affair wasn’t just a betrayal. It was so humiliating. ”
His brow furrowed slightly. “He had an affair with someone at work.” I paused, swallowing the bitterness still lodged in my throat. “Some people took sides. Or pretended not to. It just sucks.”
“I bet.”
“And I’m still not sure what people know. I wouldn’t put it past my ex to run around trashing our sex life or saying whatever he wants. That’s the kind of person he turned out to be.”
Tanner’s eyes darkened. “That’s not okay.”
I shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with how emotionally exposed I felt at this moment.
“So,” he prompted, his tone low, “this trip to Alaska was…?”
“A divorce trip,” I answered, attempting to sound flippant and failing. “Round two, technically. My friends planned one over the summer after I filed for divorce. We came back this winter because we loved it so much the first time.”
He tilted his head. “Was the divorce good or bad?”
I gave a dry laugh. “A little of both. Obviously, I don’t want to be with him. But the divorce process is overwhelming. I hated every second of it. And now, I just feel like…” I faltered, heat flaring in my cheeks. “Well, I failed.”
He shook his head firmly. “You didn’t fail. He cheated. That’s on him.”
“I know.” I swallowed, trying to keep emotion from tightening my throat. “But I wish I hadn’t married him. I wish this had all happened before.”
“How long were you married?”
“A year. Not even that long.” I huffed a breath. “Honestly, I don’t even know why he married me. I don’t think he ever really wanted to. What about you, though? I can’t believe you’re not married with kids. You’re a catch.”
Tanner’s gaze dropped to the counter for a beat. “My fiancée dumped me before the wedding.”
Although I knew the outlines from Holly, that was it. “That sucks. But why?”
“She said I was boring.”
My mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”
“Yup.” He shrugged, like it didn’t bother him anymore. “Beige. That was the exact word she used. I was too beige for her.”
“Tanner,” I said firmly, narrowing my eyes. “For starters, there is nothing wrong with the color beige. And you are not boring.”
His laugh was dry, but I could hear the bitterness laced within it. I understood that. I leaned across the counter, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “You’re not boring. What she said was hurtful and mean.”
As his gaze held mine, the air shifted between us. Just like that, this simple, sweet night felt like more than dinner.