Epilogue Ava #2
Griffin Hayes had looked at Maren like she was an unsolved problem wearing sandals.
Maren had looked back like she preferred problems filed, stamped, and not six-foot-two with defenseman shoulders.
Ava had also noticed that Griffin had held the supply box for her for twenty minutes without being asked.
Maren had noticed too.
Which was probably why she had said, “You can set that down now,” in a tone that made it sound like a warning.
Griffin had replied, “I know.”
And had not set it down.
Interesting.
Dangerous.
Not Ava’s circus.
Probably.
Nate squeezed her hand once. “Ava?”
She looked back at him. “I am okay.”
He studied her face.
“Useful version?” he asked.
Ava’s chest softened.
They still used that.
Not every day. Not for everything. But when something mattered, when the joke wanted to arrive first and hide the truth behind it, one of them would ask for the useful version.
It was maybe the healthiest thing Ava had ever done with a man.
Highly suspicious.
“Useful version,” she said. “I am nervous that once summer ends, we have to find out if this works without relays, fundraisers, public disasters, sponsor drama, and my grandmother testing your bread judgment.”
Nate nodded.
No flinch.
No easy reassurance.
Just listening.
“And?” he asked.
Ava took a breath. “And I want to find out.”
Nate’s expression changed so fast it stole hers.
Hope.
Wonder.
That same face that had undone her by the lake the night the bet ended.
“Me too,” he said.
“You are about to be very busy. Captain. Preseason. Team. Coach Doyle’s emotional fortune cookies.”
“I am.”
“And I have classes, work, family, and a grandmother who is building a suspicious interest in your tattoo.”
“I remain afraid.”
“Good.”
His smile softened. “Ava, I don’t need summer chaos to want you.”
Her throat tightened.
“That’s dangerously close to a declaration.”
“It is a declaration.”
“Before a relay?”
“I was told not to be late with private honesty.”
She swallowed.
Nate stepped closer.
Still not touching beyond their joined hands.
Still letting her have room.
“I want you when nobody is watching,” he said.
“I want you when my team is being ridiculous, and when Coach is making me run drills, and when you are working a shift, and when your grandmother is asking about hidden tattoos. I want you in fall. I want you after the lake closes. I want you without a bet making it convenient to stand near you.”
Ava stared at him.
Her vision blurred.
“No crying before athletic events,” she whispered.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No.”
She laughed and wiped under one eye.
Then she reached into her back pocket and pulled out her phone.
Nate looked alarmed. “Are you making a note?”
“Yes.”
“Should I be afraid?”
“Moderately.”
She opened the list.
Things I Am Allowed To Want.
Nate’s face went still when he saw the title.
Ava’s pulse fluttered, but she did not hide it.
Not this.
Not from him.
The list had only four entries.
To be believed without performing evidence.
To ask for clarity without apologizing.
To be loved without becoming smaller.
To want Nate Brennan after summer.
Nate stared at the screen.
For once, the man had no words.
Excellent.
Ava tucked the phone away before courage leaked out of her ears.
“Useful version,” she said, voice shaking. “Me too.”
Nate exhaled like the words had gone straight through him.
“Ava.”
“Do not say my name like that unless you are prepared for consequences.”
His eyes dropped to her mouth.
“What kind of consequences?”
“The kind where I kiss you in front of witnesses and my grandmother gives technical notes.”
“Worth it.”
“Reckless.”
“Persistent.”
Ava smiled.
Then she kissed him.
Not for points.
Not for cover.
Not because Trevor was watching.
Not because anyone had dared them.
Because Nate Brennan had said he wanted her after summer, and Ava Lane was done letting fear write first drafts.
The kiss was quick enough to be safe for public viewing and not nearly long enough to satisfy either of them.
Tyler screamed anyway.
“CAPTAIN DOWN. I REPEAT, CAPTAIN DOWN.”
Griffin shouted, “He is standing.”
“EMOTIONALLY DOWN.”
Coach Doyle’s voice cut across the lawn. “Tyler, if you use emergency language for romance again, you are running stairs.”
Tyler immediately yelled, “CAPTAIN STANDING RESPECTFULLY.”
Ava broke the kiss against Nate’s laugh.
Nate rested his forehead against hers for one second.
“After the relay,” he said quietly, “dinner? Just us. No sponsors. No Tyler. No scoreboard.”
Ava smiled. “No twine.”
“Never twine.”
“Then yes.”
His grin could have powered half the lake.
Denise blew a whistle.
“Summer Showdown teams to the start line.”
Ava stepped back, still holding Nate’s hand.
“Ready, Captain?”
Nate looked at their joined hands, then at her.
“With you?”
His smile turned soft.
“Always.”
Ava rolled her eyes because someone had to maintain structural integrity.
“That was extremely sentimental.”
“Still true.”
“Unfortunately,” she said, squeezing his hand, “acceptable.”
They walked to the start line together.
Team One had become something different by then. Less a relay team than a problem with matching shirts and alarming emotional momentum.
Soren handed Ava a water bottle. “Hydration.”
“Logistical?”
“Obviously.”
“Thank you, Goalie.”
“Still Goalie?”
“You gave our first kiss a nine. Consequences remain.”
Soren nodded. “Fair.”
Beckett appeared beside them in sunglasses. “I have prepared a motivational speech.”
Griffin said, “No.”
“You have not heard it.”
“I said no efficiently.”
Maren Brooks stepped into the group with a clipboard of her own, looked at Beckett, Tyler, Nate, then Griffin, and said, “I have met county zoning boards with more emotional stability.”
Ava smiled.
Griffin’s mouth almost moved.
Almost.
Maren saw it.
Her eyes narrowed. “Was that amusement?”
“No,” Griffin said.
“Good. I dislike being encouraged.”
“Noted.”
“Do not say noted like that.”
Griffin’s eyebrows lifted. “Like what?”
“Like you are filing me somewhere.”
“I was listening.”
“Men always call it listening right before they become inconvenient.”
Tyler leaned toward Ava and whispered, “Oh, this is going to be a disaster.”