Chapter 15 Knox #2
“Fortunately, no one else was injured.” I swallow past the lump in my throat, and a familiar ache takes root deep in my chest. “Losing my father was a shock, but he wasn’t really involved in my life anyway.”
“That must have hurt.”
“It did. But I had my mom.” A genuine smile crosses my face at the memory of her. “She’s actually the one who introduced me to hockey.”
“Really? Did she play?”
“In high school and college. She started teaching me to skate when I was four. By six, I was a menace on the ice, and by seven she decided I needed some balance, so she taught me to bake.”
Ava smiles. “So it was your mom who taught you how to make all of these amazing desserts?”
I nod. “It became our Sunday ritual. It was my job to assemble and measure the ingredients. If I didn’t make a mess, she’d let me lick the spoon afterward.
” The bittersweet memories play like a highlight reel in my mind.
“My father didn’t want her working—another one of his appearance things—so she poured all her energy into raising me. ”
“She sounds wonderful.”
“She was.” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “Losing her was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through.”
Ava shifts, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. The gesture is so tender and full of compassion that tears prick my eyes.
“No one could take her place,” I continue, blinking furiously, “but I don’t know if I would’ve gotten through it all without Coach’s help.
I think he saw a bit of himself in me—hurt, angry, desperate for direction—and he knew if someone didn’t step in, I’d self-destruct.
I can never repay him for all he’s done over the years. ”
The guilt crashes over me like a tidal wave. Here I am, blubbering about how much Coach means to me, how he saved my life, how I owe him everything, all while lying naked in bed with his daughter.
His daughter, whom he explicitly told me was off-limits.
His daughter, who could lose her job if anyone finds out about us.
You’re a selfish bastard, St. James.
I need to change the subject before the guilt consumes me entirely.
“I bought my parents’ old house,” I blurt out, the words tumbling out faster than I intended. “I’m in the process of fixing it up. The last owners didn’t take great care of it, so there’s a lot of work to do.”
Ava pulls back slightly, her expression shifting from sympathy to surprise. “You bought your childhood home? That’s the worksite Sam was referring to the day we went golfing? “
“Yeah. It came on the market about six months ago, and I couldn’t let it go to someone else.
” I shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal, even though it’s one of the most important things I’ve ever done.
“I’m doing a lot of the work myself—new floors, updated kitchen, landscaping.
It’s taking longer than expected, but it feels right. Like I’m reclaiming something I lost.”
“That’s really nice, Knox.” Her smile is soft and genuine. “I’m glad you were able to get it back.”
“Me too. It’s been therapeutic in a way I didn’t expect.” I brush a thumb across her cheek. “I’d love to show it to you sometime. If you want.”
“I’d like that.”
The way she says it—so simple and sincere—makes my chest tighten with something that feels dangerously close to hope. Maybe this thing between us isn’t just physical for her either. Maybe she feels the same pull, the same need to see where fate takes us.
Don’t get ahead of yourself. She made the rules clear.
Right. Just sex. Nothing more.
Except it feels like so much more.
I shift gears, turning the focus back to her. “What about you? What was your childhood like?”
Ava settles back against my chest, her fingers resuming their lazy patterns across my skin.
“I grew up in a small town in Texas. My mom raised me on her own, and she worked long hours as a nurse to make ends meet, so my nana filled in the gaps. She’s an old-fashioned Southern woman through and through, which is to say she’s terrifying. ”
I chuckle at that. “Terrifying how?”
“She has very specific ideas about how young ladies—heavy emphasis on ladies—should behave. Manners, modesty, and a whole lot of ‘yes, ma’ams.’ You know, all the things that come with growing up in a small Southern town with antiquated values.
” Ava’s voice carries a mix of affection and exasperation.
“Between watching my mom work her fingers to the bone, Nana’s lectures, and the crushing expectations of competitive gymnastics, I learned early on to smile and not make waves. ”
“That’s right. You mentioned once before that you were a gymnast.” I smirk. “I guess that explains the flexibility.”
She swats my chest playfully.
“I suppose this is as good a time as any to tell you I’m obsessed with your body.”
“Noted.” She laughs, deep and throaty. It’s quickly becoming my favorite sound. “But yeah, I was a competitive gymnast from age six to eighteen. It was my whole life.”
There’s something in her tone, a heaviness that suggests it wasn’t all glitter and gold medals. “What made you stop?”
“By the time I graduated, I was sick of the pressure. Between the constant judgment and the expectation of perfection, it was exhausting. Do you have any idea what it feels like to have every little flaw picked apart, from the size of your thighs to the way you style your hair? Worse, they expected us to smile and say thank you for the feedback.” She pauses, and I can feel the tension creeping back into her body.
“And it wasn’t just the judges; it was the coaches too.
That stuff takes a toll. In addition to dealing with physical injuries, there were girls at my gym struggling with eating disorders, anxiety, depression, or some combination of the three. ”
“That’s awful,” I say, shaking my head. I’ve seen some shit in hockey, but nothing as rampant as what Ava’s describing, especially among such young athletes.
As if reading my mind, she continues. “We were just kids. Most of us didn’t have the tools or resources to cope with the mental toll the sport took on us.”
“That sounds brutal.”
“It was, but it’s also what inspired me to study sports psychology.
” She tilts her head up to look at me, her eyes bright with passion.
“I didn’t want to see other athletes struggle the way we did.
The sport is getting better. The new generation of gymnasts is taking more control over their careers and speaking up about mental health, but there’s still so much work to do, and I don’t want to see anyone suffer if I can help it. ”
The conviction in her voice, the genuine care she has for the athletes she works with, sparks a sense of pride within me.
“The work you’re doing is admirable, Ava, and it matters.”
A faint blush creeps across her cheeks. “I just want to make a difference, you know?”
“You are. Even if the guys on the team don’t always show their appreciation, we’re all glad to have you onboard.”
She laughs, her body vibrating against my chest. “Even when I make you talk about your feelings?”
“Especially then.” I meant it when I told her counseling probably saved my life. “Given a little more time, the team will open up.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Don’t give up on us.”
“Never.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, and Ava’s breathing evens out. Just when I think she’s drifted off to sleep, she speaks.
“Knox?”
“Yeah, darlin’?”
“Thank you for telling me about your parents. About Luke. About all of it.” She presses her hand to my chest, to the spot where my heart beats a steady rhythm just for her. “It means a lot that you trust me with your story.”
I’d trust you with my scars, my life, all of it.
I’d give her the whole damn world if she’d just let me.
But I don’t say that because this is supposed to be just sex. Instead, I tighten my arms around her and murmur, “Thank you for listening.”
She yawns, snuggling deeper into my embrace. “I should probably go soon.”
“Stay.” I should let her go. Every minute she’s in my bed is another minute I’m betraying Coach’s trust, another minute I’m risking her career. But I’m enjoying this moment too much to say goodnight.
Ava’s breathing slows, and within minutes, she’s asleep, her soft body pressed to mine.
I should feel guilty. I should be worried about what happens if McGinnis comes home early, if Coach finds out, if the front office discovers we’re breaking the fraternization policy.
But right now, with Ava curled up against me, her hand resting over my heart, I can’t bring myself to care about any of it.
For the first time since my parents died, I feel like I could be whole again. Like I’ve collected all my broken pieces, and I just need to slot them into place.
And I have Ava to thank for it.
I close my eyes and commit this moment to memory.
Tomorrow, I’ll worry about Coach and figuring out how to protect Ava’s job while keeping her in my life. Tomorrow, I’ll deal with the guilt and the fear, and the impossibility of our situation.
I press a kiss to her forehead, careful not to wake her. “I’m going to figure this out,” I promise. “I don’t know how yet, but I’m going to find a way to make this work.”