Chapter Seven Ava #3
Then the deck exploded.
Ava’s mouth parted.
Nate looked at her first.
Not the crowd.
Not the team.
Her.
The problem was not that he had hit the shot.
The problem was that some secret, traitorous part of Ava had expected him to.
“Acceptable?” he asked.
She recovered. “Adequate.”
“Cold.”
“Accurate.”
Soren handed him the second puck. “Again.”
Nate hit the center slot again.
This time, Ava clapped once before she could stop herself.
Nate’s head turned.
She froze.
His smile spread slowly, and she knew she had made a mistake.
“Don’t,” she said.
“You clapped.”
“I had a hand spasm.”
“A supportive hand spasm.”
“Medical.”
“Of course.”
“Shoot the puck.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Oh no.
Absolutely not.
Ava’s stomach went weightless.
Nate heard it too, the shift in the air. His smile faded just enough to become something more dangerous.
Then Tyler screamed, “SHE LIKED THAT.”
Ava grabbed the nearest foam ring and threw it at him.
It missed by three feet.
Soren said, “Poor form.”
“I was emotionally compromised.”
“Still poor.”
Nate was laughing now, real and helpless, and Ava hated how good it felt to be the reason.
He took the third shot.
Center slot.
Again.
Team One was winning by enough that even Paulson looked impressed.
The final station was a sprint from the shooting tarp to the finish banner near the deck stairs. All three team members had to cross together.
“Together,” Paulson emphasized, looking directly at the hockey players. “Not one of you sprinting ahead like this is a scouting combine.”
Beckett, from Team Two, looked offended. “That happened once.”
Griffin said, “It happened this morning during practice.”
“Spiritually once.”
Ava stepped onto the starting line between Nate and Soren. “If either of you runs at full hockey speed, I will trip you.”
Soren nodded. “Understood.”
Nate looked down at her. “You could just ask us to slow down.”
“I prefer enforceable policies.”
“That’s fair.”
Paulson lifted the whistle.
Ava glanced toward the sponsor tents.
Trevor was watching.
Still.
This time, though, the sight of him did not hollow her out.
It irritated her.
Different feeling.
Better feeling.
Nate followed her gaze, then looked back at her.
He did not say with me again.
He did not have to.
The whistle blew.
They ran.
Ava was not fast in a graceful way. She was fast in a practical way, the way a woman got fast from late buses, crowded kitchens, and dodging bad decisions with nice smiles.
Soren held steady on her left.
Nate stayed on her right.
Not ahead.
Not behind.
With her.
The finish banner came closer.
The crowd yelled.
Ava heard Ellie screaming her name from the snack shack window. Tyler yelling something about destiny. Griffin ordering Tyler to stop using that word. Beckett narrating like a sports broadcaster with no license.
Then Nate’s fingers brushed hers.
Not grabbing.
Not asking.
Just there.
Ava should have ignored it.
Instead, she grabbed his hand for the final three strides.
They crossed together.
The whistle blew.
Team One won the opening relay.
The deck went wild.
Ava dropped Nate’s hand immediately, which fooled exactly no one.
Tyler slid across the grass on his knees like a man celebrating a championship. “TEAM ONE! AVA LANE, DESTROYER OF ODDS! CALLAHAN, POSSIBLY ALREADY DEAD!”
Ava bent over, hands on her knees, breathing hard. “I hate him.”
Nate stood beside her, also breathing hard, but smiling. “Tyler?”
“Everyone.”
“Broad.”
“Accurate.”
Soren accepted a water bottle from Denise and handed one to Ava. “You competed.”
Ava took it. “I participated under protest.”
“You trash-talked, strategized, threw a foam ring at Tyler, and clapped for a shot.”
“That was a hand spasm.”
“It was applause.”
“You are demoted back to goalie.”
Soren took a sip of water. “Worth it.”
Nate laughed.
Ava looked at him, and for one careless second, she forgot Trevor existed.
Then a shadow fell across the grass.
“That was impressive.”
Ava knew the voice before she turned.
Trevor stood just outside the finish area, smiling like he had every right to walk into the moment.
Of course he did.
Men like Trevor loved doors left open by other people’s exhaustion.
Ava straightened.
Nate went still beside her.
Soren, interestingly, did not move away.
Trevor’s gaze flicked to Nate, then back to Ava. “Aves. You always did like making a scene.”
The old nickname hit less like a bruise this time.
Still, it hit.
Ava opened her mouth.
Before she could speak, Nate shifted beside her.
Not in front of her.
Beside her.
A choice, not a shield.
Ava noticed.
Trevor noticed too.
His smile tightened. “Are you going to introduce me to your teammate?”
Ava looked at Trevor.
Then at Nate.
Nate’s expression was calm, but his eyes were not.
He would follow her lead. She knew that with a certainty she did not want.
Fine.
Maybe she could use that.
Maybe she wanted to.
Ava took one step closer to Nate, lifted her chin, and smiled the kind of smile that had once made Trevor call her difficult.
“Actually,” she said, slipping her hand back into Nate’s, “I was about to introduce him as my boyfriend.”