Chapter Seventeen Ava #2
“That is not a rule.”
“It is now.”
“It sounds like advice.”
“It can multitask.”
She looked down at her hands.
Nate continued, voice careful. “I don’t mind being useful. I offered. But I don’t want you walking into things that make you feel worse because you think you have to win.”
Ava swallowed.
“Winning is the point,” she said.
“Is it?”
She looked at him. “Yes.”
He did not flinch.
“Okay,” he said. “Then define winning.”
Ava opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Ridiculous question.
Infuriating question.
Important question.
Winning was Trevor not mattering.
Winning was her mother no longer looking at her like a locked door.
Winning was Grandma Ruthie not seeing right through the fake parts.
Winning was Nate holding her hand and not looking disappointed when she let go.
No.
That last one was not part of this.
She looked toward the lake. “Winning is not letting him decide who I am.”
Nate nodded once. “Then don’t let him decide what we are either.”
Ava turned back.
Her pulse went quiet and loud at the same time.
“What are we?” she asked.
Nate’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
For the first time since she had met him, Nate Brennan looked genuinely unsure.
Not charming his way around a question.
Not buying time with a joke.
Unsure.
It should have comforted her.
It did not.
It made her feel like they were both standing too close to an edge neither had mapped.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Ava’s fingers tightened around the bench.
“But I know what we’re not,” he added.
She looked at him.
“We’re not Trevor’s evidence,” Nate said. “We’re not Tyler’s spreadsheet. We’re not your family’s Sunday entertainment. We’re not a bet.”
Her throat moved.
“The book title disagrees,” she said weakly.
His smile flickered. “The book title can wait.”
She laughed once.
Then went quiet.
Because the rest of her wanted to ask: If not those things, then what?
She did not ask.
Not because she was afraid.
Fine.
Because she was afraid.
Nate glanced toward the snack shack. “I need to tell you something.”
Ava’s stomach dropped.
Nothing good ever started that way.
“That sentence should require a permit,” she said.
“Trevor texted me last night.”
The dock seemed to tilt.
Ava stared at him.
“What?”
Nate pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and held it out to her without angling the screen away.
No hiding.
No delay.
Ava took it with fingers that did not feel entirely steady.
The messages were there.
UNKNOWN: You seem like a decent guy, Brennan. You should ask Ava what happened last time she got bored and needed someone useful.
UNKNOWN: Or don’t. Some guys prefer finding out after the fall.
For a second, Ava could not hear the water.
Or the birds.
Or the distant sound of someone dragging chairs across the main deck.
All she could hear was Trevor’s voice inside her head, polished and low.
You’re making this bigger than it is.
You’re acting like I promised you something.
I didn’t know you were going to get so intense.
Her hand shook once.
Nate saw it.
He did not take the phone back.
He did not touch her.
He waited.
Ava looked at the messages again.
He had texted Nate.
Not her.
Nate.
He had tried to plant the story in Nate’s head before Ava could tell her own version.
The humiliation rose hot and fast.
Ava shoved the phone back at him and stood.
“I need to go.”
Nate stood too, slower. “Ava.”
“No.”
“Okay.”
That stopped her for half a second.
Because he did not step in front of her.
He did not grab her arm.
He did not say calm down.
He said okay, even though she could see every part of him fighting the instinct to do more.
She hated him for making room.
She loved it.
No.
Absolutely not.
She turned toward the shore.
“I should have known he would do that,” she said.
Nate kept his voice low. “That’s on him.”
“It is embarrassing.”
“For him.”
She spun back. “Do not make this noble.”
His eyes held hers. “I’m not.”
“He texted you because of me.”
“He texted me because of him.”
“You don’t know him.”
“I know enough from those texts.”
Ava laughed, but there was no humor in it. “See? That’s exactly what he wanted. Now you think you know something.”
Nate went still.
The words hit.
She saw them hit.
Regret moved immediately, but pride got there first and blocked the exit.
Nate nodded once.
“You’re right,” he said.
Ava froze.
No.
He was not supposed to agree.
He was supposed to defend himself. Push back. Make her anger bounce away from the actual bruise.
He looked at the phone in his hand, then slid it into his pocket.
“I don’t know the whole thing,” he said. “I know he wanted me to doubt you. I know I didn’t. That’s all.”
Ava’s eyes burned.
No.
No crying on docks.
That was a rule she had not written because she assumed it was obvious.
“Why didn’t you?” she asked.
The question came out too raw.
Nate looked at her like the answer hurt.
“Because I know what manipulation looks like when it wants to sound like concern.”
Ava’s breath caught.
The air between them changed again.
Not flirtation this time.
Something deeper.
Something with teeth.
“Who did that to you?” she asked before she could stop herself.
His face closed.
Not all the way.
Enough.
There it was. A wall she had not known he carried.
“Different story,” he said.
Ava nodded quickly, shame rising. “Right. Sorry. None of my business.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Ava.”
His voice stopped her again.
She looked at him.
He took a breath. “My dad is good at making criticism sound like preparation. Coaches too, sometimes. Old girlfriend once told me I was fun until something mattered. None of that is the same as what Trevor did to you. But I know what it feels like when someone hands you their version of you and expects you to carry it.”
Ava stared at him.
The water moved quietly beneath the dock.