11. Ava
11
AVA
I wake to sunlight spilling through the window, golden and weightless, the kind that carries the illusion of warmth, of new beginnings. But it doesn't reach me.
It lingers instead, stretching across the sheets, brushing against my skin like an unwelcome reminder. Too knowing. Too present. As if it witnessed everything that unraveled last night and is waiting, silent and patient, for me to open my eyes and face it.
I groan, flipping onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillow.
There's hardly any time to process any of this before my phone buzzes from my nightstand. I blindly reach for it to find a text from Ryan.
Brunch. Riverwalk Café. 12:30. No excuses.
I blink. Then I squint again.
Of course. Because the universe hasn't already handed me enough to deal with, now I have to sit through lunch with my overprotective brothers while my brain is still short-circuiting over Liam Carter.
I groan and flop back against the pillows, but I already know there's no getting out of this. Ryan doesn't invite people to brunch. He summons them. And if I don't show up, he'll probably assume I've been kidnapped.
Liam kissed me.
I kissed him back.
And now? Now I have to figure out what the hell that means.
After the kiss—that kiss—he exhaled sharply, ran a hand through his already-messy hair, and muttered something about how he should probably go. But I didn't move, and he didn't move, and then, instead of heading for the door, he leaned back against my couch like he'd just fought a war.
Which, in a way, I think he had.
So, instead of forcing words neither of us were ready to say, I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, scrolling mindlessly through streaming options.
"Are we pretending that didn't happen?" he had asked, voice dry but not mocking.
"Absolutely."
He chuckled, rubbing his jaw. "Good."
That was it. No tension, no awkwardness, just… acceptance. Like we were two people who had crossed a line and decided, for now, not to look too closely at it.
I scrolled past action movies, past rom-coms, past things that might encourage any further tension, and landed on an old episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine . Safe. Neutral. Uncomplicated.
Liam had stayed on the couch, stretching one arm over the back, legs long and lazy. He looked comfortable. Too comfortable.
"You're staying?" I had asked.
He had closed his eyes briefly, like he was weighing the pros and cons of moving. Then, with an exhale, "I'll leave in a bit."
Except a bit turned into a few episodes. Then an hour. Then another.
At some point, I made tea. Real tea this time, not the chamomile peace offering from earlier, but a strong, spicy chai, because Liam looked like he needed something with a little more bite. He took it with a grunt of approval, his fingers brushing mine as he grabbed the mug. I ignored the shiver that ran up my spine.
We didn't talk about Vanessa. We didn't talk about whatever the hell was happening between us. We just sat there, watching TV, drinking tea, and existing in the same space.
Eventually, I curled into my usual spot on the couch, knees tucked under me, arm resting against the cushions. Liam shifted too, his long legs stretching onto my coffee table like he owned the place. The TV's light cut clean lines across his face, sharpening the set of his jaw, glinting off the smirk that never quite disappeared.
I wanted to ask what he was thinking.
I didn't.
Somewhere around midnight, I must have dozed off, because the next thing I remember is waking up to the soft hum of my TV's home screen and a blanket draped over me. My couch was empty. It was deep night or early morning, or both.
Liam was gone.
Now, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I try to piece together what this means.
Because this was never supposed to be real.
It started as a fake relationship, a convenient arrangement, a way to keep both of our families at bay while we handled the mess Vanessa was throwing our way.
But last night, in the glow of my apartment, none of that felt fake.
I sigh and roll onto my back, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes.
My mind replays everything in vivid detail—the way his hand cradled my face, the way his body pressed against mine, the way he murmured, This can't just be fake anymore, Ava .
I don't know what to do with that.
I don't know what to do with any of this.
Because Liam Carter is supposed to be an enemy. An annoyance. A complication I tolerate for the sake of convenience.
Not… this.
Not the thing that keeps me up at night, heart pounding, thoughts circling like vultures.
I throw back the covers, my skin prickling with frustration, and drag myself out of bed. The hardwood floor is cool beneath my bare feet as I make my way to the kitchen, the morning sun already creeping through the windows, too bright, too sharp.
I go through the motions—fill the kettle, scoop the coffee, press the buttons. The hum of the machine is steady, grounding, but my thoughts won't stop racing.
Because now, I have a different problem.
Liam kissed me. And I kissed him back.
And I think I'd do it again.
Which means I need to get my head on straight before I do something reckless. Again.
The coffee maker beeps. I grab a mug, take a slow sip, and let the bitterness settle against my tongue.
The coffee helps a bit. Especially since there's brunch to be had and family to be dealt with.
A cold shower and quick change of clothes later, I'm on my way.
By the time I pull up to The Riverwalk Café, I've managed to push Liam to the very back of my mind. Mostly.
The café is exactly the kind of place my brothers love—classic, upscale, the kind of establishment where they never have to check the menu because the waitstaff already knows their usual orders. It's nestled along the waterfront, with ivy climbing up the brick exterior and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a perfect view of the river. Inside, the décor is polished but inviting—warm wood accents, shelves lined with wine bottles, soft jazz playing in the background.
And of course, my brothers are already here, seated at their usual table near the window, looking entirely too at home.
Ryan spots me first, lifting a hand in greeting. Nate grins, and Dean—because he's Dean—just gives me a look that says you're late .
I steel myself and stride toward them, sliding into the empty chair across from Ryan.
"You're late," Dean says, because of course he does.
I plaster on my most charming smile. "And yet, here I am. Miracles do happen."
Nate chuckles, leaning back in his chair, but Ryan just narrows his eyes at me. "You look tired."
I resist the urge to groan. I should have expected this. My brothers have a sixth sense when it comes to my life. They can sniff out a secret faster than bloodhounds on a trail.
"Rude," I say, reaching for a menu even though I already know what I'm ordering. "Maybe I was just up late watching movies."
Ryan tilts his head. "Uh-huh. Or maybe you were up late with?—"
But before he can finish that sentence, I see Vanessa Chase.
Sitting at a nearby table, perfectly poised, casually chatting with a man I recognize as one of my brothers' old family friends.
My stomach plummets.
It's not a coincidence. It's not chance. It's a statement.
She knows I'm here, and she wants me to know she's always watching.
I freeze, my fingers tightening around the menu. The café suddenly feels too warm, too loud, the clinking of silverware against plates grating against my ears.
I force myself to breathe, to keep my expression neutral. The last thing I need is my brothers catching onto anything. If they notice Vanessa, it's game over. There'll be questions, ones I can't answer without admitting everything.
Even as I'm thinking, Vanessa pushes her chair back, stands up, and leaves.
"Ava?"
Dean's voice pulls me back, sharp with concern.
I blink, snapping my gaze back to my brothers. Ryan's eyes narrow, Nate's brows lift, and Dean… Dean is watching me too closely.
Shit .
I swallow and force a casual smile. "What?"
"You zoned out," Nate says, amusement laced in his voice, but his eyes scan me like he's analyzing.
I wave a hand. "Just thinking about what I want to order."
It's a weak excuse, and they all know it.
Dean tilts his head slightly. "You okay?"
I nod too quickly. "Fine. Totally fine."
Ryan's gaze flickers to where Vanessa was sitting. "You sure?"
My pulse spikes. Does he know? Did he see?
I force out a laugh, reaching for my water glass. "Seriously, I'm fine. Just tired."
They don't look convinced, but thankfully, our waitress arrives before they can push the issue further.
Still, as I place my order, my mind isn't on my brothers anymore.
It's on Vanessa. On the way she sat there, effortlessly composed, like she belonged here. Like she wasn't even worried about being seen by my brothers who abhor her.
I've barely taken a sip of my water before Ryan is eyeing me like he's about to interrogate a suspect.
Which, knowing him, isn't far from the truth.
"So," he starts, swirling the ice in his glass, "you never did tell us how things are going with Carter."
I nearly choke on my drink.
Out of all the topics in the world—sports, family gossip, why Dean insists on ordering the same damn omelet every time we eat here—Ryan chooses this?
I place my glass down, forcing what I hope is a casual smile. "Going?"
Ryan tilts his head, unimpressed. "Yes, Ava. Going."
My mind scrambles for a neutral response, something light and vague that won't trigger their overprotective instincts, but I can already feel the weight of their collective attention shifting toward me.
Dean, ever the observant one, leans forward slightly. "You've been acting weird lately."
"Define weird," I say, reaching for a piece of bread from the basket in the middle of the table. I rip off a bite, chewing far too aggressively, like that will somehow end this conversation.
Dean just lifts an eyebrow, which is the equivalent of saying don't play dumb with me .
Ryan, of course, takes a different approach. He grins and leans his elbows onto the table, voice turning smug. "You're avoiding the question."
"I'm not avoiding anything."
"You are," Nate chimes in, smirking. "Which means there's something to avoid."
Oh, my God. This is a nightmare.
I swallow the too-dry piece of bread, stalling. "We're… fine," I say finally. "Everything is fine."
"Uh-huh." Ryan narrows his eyes. "That sounded very not fine."
"It's fine," I repeat, trying not to sound like a malfunctioning robot.
Dean crosses his arms, clearly skeptical. "You don't seem sure about that."
"Maybe because I didn't expect my entire family to suddenly develop a deep interest in my love life."
Nate chuckles, resting his chin on his hand. "Well, it's not every day you date a guy you supposedly can't stand."
I hate how perceptive they are.
"That was years ago," I mutter, stirring my iced coffee even though I have no intention of drinking it. "And he was a jerk. He isn't anymore."
Ryan's eyes sharpen instantly. "What does that mean?"
I internally curse myself. Stupid. That was stupid .
"Uh…" I flounder, trying to find a way to backtrack, but it's too late. They're all locked in.
Nate, watching me closely, suddenly grins. "Holy shit."
"What?" I snap, as if I don't already know.
He just shakes his head, delighted. "You really like him."
Ryan's eyebrows shoot up. "Ava…"
Dean exhales heavily, rubbing his temple. "Christ."
I groan, dropping my head into my hands. "Why are you all acting like this is a crisis?"
Ryan looks at me like I just suggested befriending a serial killer. "Because it is, Ava. This is Liam Carter. The same Liam Carter who used to get under your skin so badly that you once threw a drink at him at Nate's birthday party."
"It was one drink!" I huff. "And it was just water!"
Dean, ever the realist, cuts in. "But it was on purpose."
I throw my hands in the air. "I was eighteen!"
Ryan shakes his head, still looking unconvinced. "So, what changed?"
I open my mouth. Then close it.
Because I don't know.
Liam was supposed to be a problem. A necessary headache. And now? Now, he's something else entirely.
But admitting that to them? Absolutely not.
I scramble for an answer, but Nate—who is clearly enjoying my suffering—leans back and snickers. "Careful, Ava. If Liam breaks your heart, we'll break his legs."
Ryan, nodding, clinks his water glass against Nate's. "Glad we're on the same page."
Dean says nothing, just takes a slow sip of his coffee, but his silence is more terrifying than anything.
I scowl. "You guys are ridiculous."
Ryan shrugs. "We're your brothers."
I shove another piece of bread into my mouth to keep myself from saying something I'll regret.
This conversation is officially over as food arrives. Thankfully, we're all hungry, and the seafood bisque is excellent, savory and rich and decadent enough to keep us from talking.
After eating, I make an excuse about a work deadline and leave the café with my head still spinning.
The Riverwalk is as lively as ever, with people strolling along the waterfront, wrapped up in their own little worlds. The sun is high, bouncing off the water, making everything shimmer.
I wish I could share the easy joy of others around me, but I can't.
And then my phone buzzes.
I pull it out, barely glancing before swiping to open the new message.
Unknown Number.
I freeze in place.
You really should tell your brothers the truth. Or I will.
My pulse spikes, an electric current zipping through my veins.