Chapter 21 Alex
ALEX
That night, I had gone to bed thinking of Eleanor. I had been fighting an attraction to her, but after yesterday, I think I was prepared to stop fighting it.
I pulled out my phone and texted her to see if she was doing okay after yesterday.
I sent the text before I could overthink it.
Alex: Hey. Just checking in. How’s Ava doing this morning? And how are you?
I hovered for a moment, thumb tapping against my phone case. Then I pressed send.
As I crossed the lawn toward next door, the screen stayed stubbornly quiet. That wasn’t like her. Part of me hoped she was sleeping in. The other part worried she was too drained to answer.
Before I could spiral, the front door swung open.
“Daddy!” Leo barreled into me, rainbow pajamas flapping behind him like a cape.
I laughed and scooped him up. “Whoa, whoa! Good morning, rocket man!”
He grinned, cheeks sticky with what appeared to be syrup. “We made waffles! I put sprinkles on mine. And on Mama’s. And on Mel’s. And I tried to give some on Pickles, but Mama said no because cats can’t have sprinkles.”
“Correct,” I said solemnly. “Cats cannot have sprinkles.”
Mel appeared behind him, holding a mug and already looking like she’d lived an entire day before 8 a.m. Pink pajama shorts, oversized T-shirt with ROLLER DERBY IS MY LOVE LANGUAGE on it, hair puffed out gloriously.
“You here for breakfast?” she asked. “I made too much. As usual.”
“You always make too much,” Becca called from the kitchen. “Because you forget you’re feeding three humans and not your entire derby roster.”
“And what a blessing that is,” Mel shot back, kissing her cheek as she passed.
I set Leo down as we all gathered at the table full of waffles, fruit, a questionable amount of whipped cream, and Mel’s chili reheated from last night because “breakfast chili is a thing, Alex, don’t argue.”
Leo dug in immediately, narrating every thought that entered his brain.
“And THEN,” he said around a mouthful, “Ava punched a kid!”
Becca choked on her coffee. “I’m sorry — what?”
I blinked. “Leo—did she tell you that?”
“Yeah! She said he was mean.” He scowled. “I hope she punched him good.”
“Leo,” Becca said warningly. “No cheering violence.”
Mel shrugged in the background.
He crossed his arms. “But he said mean things. About me.”
My stomach dropped. “About you?”
Leo nodded, eyes going soft and hurt in a way I rarely saw. Which made my heart twist hard.
“He said I was weird,” he mumbled. “And that weird kids shouldn’t be in the same classes as normal kids.”
I exhaled slowly, anger simmering low and hot.
Mel slapped her hand on the table. “That kid is on my list. Where is this list? I need a list.”
Becca gently took Leo’s chin. “Hey. You’re not weird, baby. You’re you. And that’s perfect.”
He gave a wobbly smile.
I ruffled his hair. “Ava was sticking up for you, huh?”
He nodded proudly. “She hit him hard. Like Mel!”
Mel preened. “I knew I liked that girl.”
“Not the time!” Becca snapped.
Mel raised her hands. “Okay, okay.”
I checked my phone again. Nothing from Eleanor.
A little knot of worry pulled tight under my ribs.
Mel noticed. She always noticed.
“Still no word from your girl?” she asked quietly.
I glared. “She’s not—”
“Please,” Mel said. “You’re glowing like a teenager with his first crush.”
“I am not glowing.”
Becca and Mel exchanged identical looks that said yes, he is.
Becca elbowed Mel gently.
“Come on. I’ll take Leo to school today. You two can talk,” Mel said as she slipped her shoes on.
Leo grabbed his backpack and gave me a quick hug before running out the door with Mel, who was muttering something about “educational violence” that Becca ignored.
The house quieted as the door clicked shut.
After Mel whisked Leo away to school, the house finally fell quiet. Becca poured more coffee, slid a mug in front of me, and gave me that look, the one that said spill it.
“Okay,” she said, folding her hands. “Something’s going on with you.”
I blew out a breath. “It’s . . . Eleanor.”
Her eyebrows rose slightly, but her voice stayed gentle. “Yeah? How’s she doing?”
I rubbed my thumb against my mug. “She texted earlier. Ava had a rough day yesterday. And I think she’s overwhelmed. Just . . . everything with the move. And losing her husband. And raising Ava on her own.” I swallowed. “She’s carrying so much.”
Becca nodded. “And you care about her.”
God. Understatement of the year.
“I do,” I admitted quietly. “I really do. I . . . like her. A lot more than I expected to.”
Becca’s expression softened. “Of course you do. She’s wonderful.”
“Yeah,” I said, half-laughing, half-sighing. “She is. But I don’t want to overwhelm her. She hasn’t dated since her husband died. She’s still grieving. And she’s scared.”
“Of you?”
“No,” I said immediately. “Not me. Just . . . scared of letting herself want more. She keeps pulling back right when it feels like something’s there.”
Becca nodded, thinking. “And what do you want?”
The question hit me somewhere deep.
What did I want?
“I want to give her space,” I said. “But I also want her to know . . . she doesn’t have to do all of this alone.”
Becca smiled softly. “Then keep showing up. Keep being steady. And let her set the pace.”
I nodded, feeling something loosen in my chest.
“What do you think about the Reapers?”
Then Becca raised an eyebrow.
“And . . . you’re really asking about derby?”
Heat crept into my face. “Not for me.”
She laughed. “Good. The Reapers would eat you alive.”
I threw a balled-up napkin at her.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “For Eleanor. She keeps saying she could never do it, but she lit up yesterday. I’ve never seen her that happy. And I . . . I think she’d be amazing. I just don’t know if I should push. Or encourage. Or stay quiet.”
“Encourage,” Becca said immediately. “Always encourage. Because she clearly doesn’t have people in her life doing that right now.” She paused meaningfully. “And she listens to you.”
That hit harder than it should have.
“I just want her to feel like she can do things,” I murmured. “Be things. Try things. That she’s allowed to want things.”
Becca squeezed my hand. “Then keep being in her corner. That’s what she needs right now.”
My phone buzzed with a message from Eleanor.
Eleanor- Rough day yesterday. But I’m okay. And thank you . . . for everything yesterday.
My heart did a stupid, teenager-ish somersault.
Becca saw my face and smirked. “Oh yeah,” she said. “You’re a goner.”
And I didn’t even try to deny it.
I managed to make it through the day until it was time for rehearsal.
My fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before I forced myself to exhale and just . . . text her back.
Alex: I’m glad you’re okay. And I’m really glad you reached out. If you or Ava need anything — anything — I’m here.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then reappeared.
Before I could obsess over what that meant, Becca walked back into the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“Oh,” she said, “before I forget, I’m picking Leo up from rehearsal tonight.”
“You are?” I asked.
She nodded. “It’s our anniversary this weekend. We swapped days, remember?” She grinned sheepishly.
I laughed. “Oh, right, where are you guys going?”
She bumped my shoulder. “We are headed to Little Italy.”
"I hope you have a great night."
And I did. I really did. If I'm being honest, I had a hard time when Becca came out. I loved her, still do. It's just different now. And now we are a weird little family full of love.
"You really like Eleanor, don't you?" Becca asked as she started to wipe the syrup off the counter.
I just shrugged.
“I'm happy for you. You deserved someone who could see you fully,” She said softly.
"It's not like that." I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up a hand.
“Don’t even try to deny it. You have that look.”
“What look?”
“The ‘I’m falling for a woman, and it terrifies me but also feels horribly right’ look.”
I groaned. “You’re impossible.”
“I know,” she said cheerfully. “Go home. Shower. Text your girlfriend.”
“She’s not—”
But she was already waving me off, smirking.
Walking into my place hit me in the chest in a gentle way, warm, familiar, lived-in. The small duplex I bought after the divorce wasn’t fancy, but it was mine.
Leo’s watercolor set was still spread across the kitchen table, blue and pink splatters everywhere, brushes drying in a jar like a bouquet. A half-built LEGO spaceship waited on the coffee table. A purple sock lay inexplicably on the stairs.
The place felt alive because of him.
But standing here now . . . it also felt quiet.
Quieter than I remembered.
I set my phone down and moved around the space, straightening a little, wiping paint flecks off the table. My mind kept drifting back to Eleanor in the rink lights, laughing as she flew around the curve. I almost kissed her, and everything inside me lit up like someone had struck a match.
I sank down onto the couch, dragging a hand through my hair.
God, I hadn’t felt this way in years. Not since before Becca came out. Not since before everything changed.
It was unsettling, wanting someone again. Wanting her.
Her laugh. Her soft, curvy body pressed against mine for that one dizzy moment.
Her blue eyes searched my face like she wasn’t sure she deserved desire but desperately wanted it anyway.
I let my head drop back against the cushion, heat curling low in my stomach. The memory of her body in my arms made it almost impossible to think of anything else.
I reached for her text thread again, thumb brushing the screen.
Alex: I was thinking about last night. About you. Hope you’re having a gentler day today.
I hesitated — then hit send.
I set the phone down on my thigh, heart thudding.
I shouldn’t want her this much. I shouldn’t be imagining the way she looked at me when she wobbled and fell into my chest . . . the way her breath had hitched when our noses almost brushed . . .
My eyes drifted shut.
Her.
Always her.
My hand slid lower, following the heat building under my skin. My damn cock was already hard at just the thought of the feel of her body. When was the last time I had sex? If I had to think this hard, it was too long ago. But as I went back through my memory, I had to go back over a year.
No, it had not been over a year, had it?
My head hit the back of the couch with a thump as my hand reached inside my sweatpants.
Buzz.
I jolted upright.
Her name lit up the screen.
Eleanor: Hearing from you helped. More than I expected it to.
I exhaled a shaky breath.
Then another message:
Eleanor: And I keep thinking about yesterday, too.
A slow wave of heat rolled through me.
My fingers moved before I could think.
Alex: Yeah? What part?
Eleanor: The part where you caught me. The part where you looked at me like . . . like I was someone worth catching.
My pulse roared in my ears.
I swallowed. And squeezed my dick.
Alex: You are. More than you know.
Three dots appeared.
Eleanor: You make it very hard to think straight when you talk like that.
I grinned helplessly.
Alex: Funny. You make it very hard to breathe when you smile at me.
Another pause.
Longer.
Eleanor: Alex . . . I don’t know where this is going. But I want to keep going.
I closed my eyes, letting the words settle deep — warm and welcome and dangerously hopeful.
Alex: Me too.
Next thing I knew, I had my eyes closed, the image of Eleanor in my head as I stroked myself. It took an embarrassingly short amount of time before I finished in my hand. It was like being a teenager again.