Chapter 12
AVA
The porcelain toilet gleams under the bright lights of the bathroom as I aggressively scrub the stubborn pink ring that. Just. Won’t. Quit. It’s like the darn thing is painted on. Still, it feels good to get my frustration out.
I give the brush another good shove, and to my horror, it slips into the deepest part of the bowl, splashing water all over the front of my sweatshirt.
Because of course it does.
I tip my head back and silently curse the universe, toilet brushes, and whoever lived here before me and didn’t deign to clean properly.
I turn to put the stupid brush back in its stand and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My sweatshirt is soaked and my hair is falling out of its braid. Definitely not my best look.
It might be time to reconsider your life choices.
Is this really what my life’s come to, rage cleaning as a distraction from my problems?
Or maybe it’s a replacement for hot sex.
Why can’t it be both?
Indeed. It’s been a week since I walked away from Knox. A week since I told him we couldn’t be together. A week of avoiding him like my life depends on it—which, professionally speaking, it does.
I’ve been using the garage to come and go, timing my departures so I don’t run into him on the way to the rink. And like the coward I am, I scheduled his one-on-one session for the end of the day on Friday.
At which point you conveniently ran out of time.
Okay, so I’ve been a coward, but who could blame me? I’m stuck in an impossible situation and my only options are crappy ones.
My phone buzzes on the bathroom counter, the vibration loud against the granite.
I glance at the screen, and my stomach drops.
Adam Carlyle.
I strip off the gloves and wash my hands, anxiety coiling low in my belly. Adam rarely calls—we’re still figuring out this whole father-daughter thing—so when he does, I know it’s important.
I dry my hands on a towel and swipe accept, forcing brightness into my voice. “Hey, Adam.”
I still can’t bring myself to call him Dad, but calling him Coach outside of work feels weird too.
Awkward Moments 87,000,000,000 – Ava 0.
“Ava, I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to see how your first week in Atlanta went?”
My chest tightens at the warmth in his tone. Is this how it feels to have a father who calls to check in and wants to know how you’re doing?
“It was good.” I lean against the counter, getting comfortable. “I’m all settled in, and now I’m just doing some light cleaning.”
He chuckles. “Sounds thrilling. How’s work going? Everyone treating you okay?”
Here we go.
“It’s going well,” I say carefully. “Everyone has been really welcoming, and I’m getting a feel for the rhythm of the team.”
What I don’t tell him is that I’ve dreamed about his star player for the last three nights and woken so aroused I had to take matters into my own hands.
“I’m glad to hear it. You wouldn’t know it from their record, but this team is really special.” There’s a pause, and I can practically hear him choosing his words. “How has the city been treating you? Are you finding your way around? Have you made any friends?”
“So far, so good. I really haven’t had a chance to explore much, but I’m sure that will come with time.”
At present, I don’t have a minute to spare.
“Good, I’m glad to hear it. Did you and Knox exchange keys yet?”
My breath catches. “Excuse me?”
“Keys,” he repeats. “In case of emergency? We talked about this last week. Did you forget?”
I exhale, forcing my breath out in a rush.
“Uh, no. We haven’t done that yet.” I clear my throat. “But we will.”
Liar. There’s a zero percent chance you’re going to exchange keys with a man you’re actively avoiding.
“Have you been to the grocery store? Should I send you some basics?”
Delightful. Now he thinks I can’t even buy my own groceries…
“I’m good, seriously. I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got everything under control over here.”
There’s a long pause, and for an instant, I think I’ve offended him, but then he continues, his tone all business. “So what do you have planned for the team this week?”
I bristle.
If I’d known this was going to be a work call, I might not have answered. I’ve never been great at setting boundaries, and with Adam, it’s even more challenging because of our unusual relationship.
But I can’t say that, so I answer truthfully. “We’re focusing on goal-setting and visualization techniques. Building trust takes time. I need to get to know each of the guys better and observe team interactions before I can implement more targeted interventions.”
“Right, of course. It’s a process.” He pauses. “Think you could make it a goal-scoring process?”
I blink. Then an unexpected laugh bursts from my lips.
“Did you just make a dad joke?”
“Maybe.” He sounds pleased with himself. “Too cheesy?”
“No, it was perfect.” My chest warms. This is what I’ve been missing my whole life. These small, silly moments that other people take for granted. “I’ll see what I can do about the goal-scoring.”
We talk for a few more minutes about the team’s 1-1-1 record, and I do my best to sound optimistic.
The game against the Hurricanes had been particularly hard to watch.
Though it got off to a solid start, the Gliders were floundering by the third period, and it was clear Knox was frustrated and probably blaming himself, when in reality, the team is a mess.
They fight like toddlers, refuse to open up in sessions, and seem more concerned with their mascot than actually working on team cohesion.
On the bright side, they were more than happy to spill the tea on Dr. Banks. He’s known for being quick to offer prescriptions and rarely engages with the guys on the team. He’s basically just a figurehead for mental health, and no one trusts him, which is making my job ten times harder.
One of the athletic trainers tipped me off that Banks is a member of the same country club as the team’s general manager, which explains how he got the job, despite being a misogynistic creep.
But I don’t tell Adam any of that. He’s already protective enough, and I need to figure out how to handle Banks on my own.
“So listen,” Adam says, upbeat now. “The real reason I called is to talk to you about dinner tomorrow.”
My anxiety spikes. I can’t handle anymore surprise dinner guests. “What about it?”
“Knox is bringing someone special.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
Someone special?
Knox. Is bringing. Someone special.
My vision blurs, and I grip the counter to steady myself. Only a week ago, he was begging me to give him a chance, swearing that we could make this work. Insisting he wouldn’t give up on me.
“Oh,” I manage, my voice barely a whisper. “That’s great.”
“Yeah, I’m excited to meet her,” Adam continues, oblivious to the fact that I’m currently dying inside.
“Knox doesn’t bring people around often, so this must be serious.
I’m thinking of picking up a nice dessert, you know, to make a good impression.
Do you think that’s a good idea? Or is that too much? ”
He sounds nervous. Excited. Like a father who wants to impress his son’s girlfriend.
I want to scream.
“No, that’s…that’s a great idea.” It’s a struggle to keep my voice from shaking. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”
She. The woman Knox is bringing. The woman who isn’t me.
It’s only been a week since I told him we couldn’t be together, and he’s already moved on.
My chest aches, and I press a hand to my sternum, trying to breathe through the pain.
This is what you wanted. You ended it. You told him it was over.
True, but god, it hurts.
“Actually,” I hear myself say, the words spilling out before I can stop them, “I was going to ask if I could bring someone too.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“You were?” Adam sounds surprised. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
That makes two of us.
“Yeah.” I double down on the lie because what else can I do? “It’s still pretty new, but I think it would be nice for you to meet him.”
What? No. Stop talking, Ava! It’s time to play the quiet game.
“Who is this guy?” The question is loaded and laced with suspicion, protective father mode fully activated. “Where did you meet him? How long have you been seeing him?”
Oh god. What have I done?
“We met at the gym.” The gym? I don’t have a gym membership. Why would I when I’m allowed to use the Glider’s training facilities. I rack my brain, scrambling for details. “He’s great. Really respectful. Super nice guy.”
“The gym?” Adam’s voice sharpens. “Ava, please tell me you’re not dating one of my players.”
“No! God, no. Not a player.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Just someone I met at the community gym. In my neighborhood. It’s fine. I promise.”
The part about the gym is a white lie, but my made-up boyfriend definitely isn’t on the team.
He’s quiet for a moment, and I can practically hear him processing.
“Alright,” he says finally. “The more the merrier. I’m looking forward to meeting your new friend.”
“Great,” I say weakly. “Me too.”
We say our goodbyes, and I end the call, staring at my phone in horror.
What the heck did I just do?
I just told my father—who I’ve known for three months—that I’m bringing a date to dinner. A date I don’t have. A date I invented on the spot because I couldn’t stand the thought of watching Knox parade around with some other woman.
And now I have twenty-four hours to find myself a fake-date.
I sink onto the closed toilet lid, my head in my hands.
Talk about a disaster of my own making.
I grab my phone and pull up my group chat with Lexie and Kayla. My fingers fly across the screen.
Me: HELP! I screwed up. Big time.
The responses come almost immediately.
Lexie: What’s wrong?
Kayla: Are you okay?
I take a deep breath and start typing.
Me: Remember the guy from Cancún, the one I had a one-night stand with?
Lexie: Flamingo Boy? How could I forget? He was all you talked about for weeks afterward.
Kayla: OMG, did you find him online?!?