Chapter Twenty-Six Nate #3
Nate laughed and tucked her into his side as they walked toward shore.
She let him.
That felt like the best part.
The team swarmed him the second they reached the grass.
Tyler hugged him first and nearly lifted him off the ground. Beckett clapped him on the back. Miles offered him chips like a communion substitute. Soren shook his hand. Griffin hugged him last, quick and hard.
“Captain,” Griffin said.
Nate nodded. “Yeah.”
Tyler sniffed. “I’m not crying. I have leadership allergies.”
Ava looked at him. “You need a better doctor.”
“I need emotional insurance.”
“Not covered,” Soren said.
Beckett lifted his phone. “Group photo?”
Nate looked at Ava.
She looked back.
Once, photos had felt like evidence someone else could use.
Now, this one felt different.
Ava shrugged. “Fine. But if anyone captions this with the word bet, I will destroy you.”
Tyler lifted one finger.
Griffin said, “Do not.”
Tyler lowered it. “I support boundaries.”
They took the photo by the old dock with Nate in the center, Ava beside him, the team crushed around them, Tyler making half a heart until Griffin noticed, Soren refusing to smile, Beckett smiling enough for three people, and Miles holding his chip bag like a championship trophy.
Ellie appeared out of nowhere for the second photo.
Then Denise.
Then Karen.
Then Ruthie, who took one look at Nate’s captain patch and said, “Good. More responsibility. Try not to waste it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nate said.
Ava whispered, “She loves you.”
Ruthie said, “I hear everything.”
Ava whispered, “See? Terrifying.”
By sunset, the official fundraiser total had been posted with the matching funds processed.
Ten thousand ten dollars.
Five youth scholarships funded.
One extra equipment grant added by Briar Bean and Lake Briar Marina.
The Ridgeview Gazette ran the headline Ava had not dared to hope for:
**COMMUNITY CLOSES SCHOLARSHIP GAP, RIDGEVIEW PLAYERS HELP RAISE OVER $10,000 FOR YOUTH HOCKEY**
No personal dispute.
No distraction.
No one named Ava as the problem.
The story stayed where she had put it.
On the kids.
On the community.
On everyone who showed up.
That night, after the team celebration, after Coach Doyle gave a speech that made Tyler cry into a paper plate and deny it for forty minutes, after Ruthie told Nate captains should eat vegetables without complaint, after Karen hugged Ava and whispered, “This looks like happy,” Ava and Nate found their way back to the old dock.
The lights from the main deck glowed behind them.
The lake was quiet.
Nate stood with Ava tucked under his arm, her head against his shoulder, his captain patch in his pocket, and the summer opening in front of them like something he no longer needed to outrun.
“So,” Ava said.
“Dangerous opening.”
“How does it feel?”
“Captaincy?”
“Everything.”
Nate looked down at her.
She looked up.
No hiding.
Not completely.
There would always be jokes. Rules. Occasional threats involving nacho cheese. Ava was still Ava.
Thank God.
“It feels,” he said slowly, “like I lost the right bet.”
Her mouth curved. “That’s almost smooth.”
“Almost?”
“I am grading generously because you got promoted today.”
“To captain or boyfriend?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Careful.”
He smiled.
“Both matter,” he said.
Her expression softened.
“Good answer.”
He kissed her under the darkening sky, slow and sure, while the lake moved quietly around the pilings and the deck lights shimmered on the water.
No audience.
No scoreboard.
No bet.
Just Ava.
Just him.
Just the summer they had stopped trying to survive and started choosing instead.
Behind them, from the main deck, Tyler’s voice floated across the grass.
“I AM STILL RESPECTING PRIVACY, BUT I NEED EVERYONE TO KNOW THIS IS A HISTORIC EVENING.”
Ava laughed against Nate’s mouth.
Nate smiled into the kiss.
Perfect, he decided, was probably overrated.
This was better.
This was theirs.
Two weeks later, Ava was restocking lemonade when Maren Brooks walked into the snack shack wearing sunglasses, a black swimsuit cover-up, and the expression of a woman who had just made a bad decision and planned to blame everyone else for it.
Ava looked up from the cups. “That face requires either coffee or legal counsel.”
Maren dropped her tote onto the counter. “Neither. I need a favor.”
Ava immediately straightened. “Absolutely not.”
“You don’t know what it is.”
“Your voice has consequences in it.”
Maren lowered her sunglasses. “Hypothetically, how bad would it be if I accidentally agreed to spend the weekend at the lake house with Griffin Hayes?”
Ava stared at her.
Then slowly looked past Maren to the deck, where Griffin Hayes stood beside the railing with his arms folded, looking controlled, exhausted, and very much like a man who had just realized discipline was not going to save him.
From the far table, Tyler’s head snapped up like a romance bloodhound.
“OH,” Tyler said. “BAD IDEA.”
Griffin closed his eyes.
Maren pointed at Tyler without looking away from Ava. “I hate him already.”
Ava smiled.
For the first time all summer, someone else’s disaster had arrived at the snack shack.
And honestly?
It was about time.