Ava
Ilaunched out of my seat. "That was a fucking strike!
" I screamed with my hands in the air. Cohen dropped into his ready stance, his baseball pants stretching across his thick thighs, his chain caught between his teeth as a knowing smirk tugged at his mouth.
He tossed me a wink. A familiar thrill sparked low in my belly—it was annoying how easily my body reacted to this man.
Aria made the executive decision to hold Ellie, stating that "I was a lunatic at baseball games," or something along those lines.
When I took my seat again, Aria shook her head in amusement. "You are truly unhinged. I think I'm more entertained by you than the game." She softly patted Ellie's back.
I narrowed my eyes at the umpire, crossing my arms. "That was a strike," I repeated quietly.
I loved going to Aviators' games. The sights, the smells, the crowd—it was both nostalgic and electric.
So far, thanks to the headphones Cohen got her, Ellie was doing really well at the game.
Seeing Cohen's reaction to her, him sprinting across the field, parading her around proudly in front of his team like she was his little show pony—ugh. Swoon.
And speaking of swoon. Watching Cohen play live was enough to make me want to throw out my rules and cross some lines… again. Complications and the aftermath be damned.
The way his ass looks in those goddamn baseball pants is criminal.
But unfortunately for me—and my raging hormones—I would just admire him from afar for Ellie's sake.
Cohen was incredibly talented. Fast as hell, his throwing accuracy unreal, and it was truly impressive the way he could read where the ball would go before it was even put into play.
I’d be entirely focused on the batter at the plate, and the second the ball was hit, I’d turn—already worried—only to find Cohen already there, shutting down the play immediately.
He’d earned his reputation as one of the best shortstops in the league. That much was indisputable.
And thanks to a few key plays at the hands of Cohen, the Aviators won.
But still—nothing compared to the way he looked when he held Ellie.
A few evenings later, I tried to put down Ellie for the night, but she would not stop fussing and clung to me like a spider monkey.
I rocked Ellie back and forth, deciding to take her temperature.
The thermometer beeped with the results.
I dropped my head back on a groan and checked the thermometer again, willing it to display a different result—102.
0—shit. Ellie was visibly uncomfortable from the fever she had spiked, her nose a bit runny, with a slight cough developing.
So, I did what any brand-new mom would do—I freaked the fuck out.
I googled countless questions around babies and illness until I scared myself enough to call Harper. Harper asked me a litany of questions, and by the time she had made it to the end of her list, she was confident I could manage Ellie at home with infant Tylenol, Motrin, and a humidifier.
I wasn't so sure.
Then I decided to call Farrah, who also assured me Ellie would be okay and that the medication just needed to kick in.
But that was thirty minutes ago, and Ellie showed no signs of comfort. She wavered between crying and fussing. I tried everything to settle her, and nothing seemed to work.
Desperate, I called Cohen.
He shoved his way inside my apartment less than a minute later and took Ellie from me without a word. I felt my desperation ease slightly just having someone else here with me.
"When was her last dose of medicine?" he asked while softly rocking her.
"I gave her Motrin thirty minutes ago, but she won't stop crying." My voice came out strained, on the verge of tears. Not being able to comfort your child was a new kind of hell.
He looked down at her. "Still early. It can sometimes take an hour for it to kick in."
I blinked. "How do you know that?"
Cohen kept his eyes glued to Ellie. "Let's just say I did a lot of research when you were pregnant." He glanced up at me, "Can you go turn on your shower, as hot as it can go, and shut the door?"
Confused, I nodded and did as he asked.
Once the shower was hot enough, steam visible in the room, I slipped back out, closing the door, and headed back into the living room. "Shower’s ready. What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to try sitting in the bathroom with her, see if the hot steam will help her congestion and cough." He said it as if it were the most logical thing. Which it honestly kind of was, and I instantly felt stupid.
I followed behind and sat down on the floor of the bathroom while Cohen sat on the edge of the tub with Ellie. "I thought late night hang outs with our daughter were over," I joked.
Cohen smiled and began rubbing slow, continuous circles on her back. After a few moments, Ellie settled. The fussing quieted, and her little eyes fluttered closed.
I stared at him in awe. "It worked." I felt the tight knot in my stomach ease up. "I can't believe you never wanted to be a dad." I watched as Ellie burrowed deeper into Cohen’s neck. "You're so good at it."
Something crossed Cohen’s eyes—something heavy. Sadness, maybe?
"I don't know how much Walker has told you about me.
" He paused. "My dad left my mom when I was two years old, and Callie was basically Ellie's age.
It crushed my mom. I obviously don't have any memory of it, but even as I grew up, I could see she was never over it.
She didn't date. She threw herself completely into Callie and me.
" He sighed. "She was an amazing mom. She sacrificed so much to make sure I could always play baseball.
It got really expensive as I made my way up the ranks, but I would never have known—she kept all of that from me. "
I stayed quiet. I was heartbroken. For him, for Callie, for the father they didn't have.
Walker had never shared much with me about Cohen's past. All I knew was that his mom had died when he was in college. He’d never mentioned his father, so I’d assumed they were divorced. I hadn’t realized the trauma ran so much deeper.
"Anyway, she died in a car accident when I was nineteen and away at college.
Driver ran a red light. I found out during practice.
" He glanced back down at Ellie as he continued.
“Callie was in her senior year of high school, completely alone.
I ended up moving out of the dorms and back home to be there for Callie for her final year.
Campus was only about twenty minutes away.
Luckily, Callie had just turned eighteen, so we were both legally adults and didn't have to worry about guardianship. "
"You didn't have any grandparents around to help you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He shook his head. "No family. Both my mother's parents had already passed at that point… never met my dad’s family."
"Wow. I can't believe you had to take all that on so young. I get why you and Callie are so close."
"Yeah, she's all I have." He ran his free hand down his face, "So, yeah. After everything I’d gone through growing up, I didn't want to have kids. I didn't want to risk ending up like my father, and losing my mom sort of did a number on me."
I reached out and squeezed his thigh gently to get him to look at me. Because with what I was about to say, I needed him to look at me. To really hear me.
“You are already different, Cohen. You stayed.”
Cohen nodded with a sad smile, his eyes casted down to our daughter sleeping against his chest.
"Tell me about her," I said but it came out more like a question.
He looked up, "My mom?"
I nodded.
He stayed quiet a moment. I was worried I'd pushed him too far until he spoke, his eyes still fixed on our daughter.
"Her name was Sarah and she loved flowers.
She somehow managed to have fresh flowers all over our house, all the time.
She always said they made her happy, gave her a bit of light even on her darkest days.
Her and Callie used to share a strawberry Pop-Tart every night together.
She worked two jobs but somehow managed to make it to every single one of my games.
Every Father's Day she would take us to the lake to swim, then ice cream and a movie.
She never wanted us to feel like we were missing out on something other kids had.
" He sighed. "She was the best," he whispered.
"She sounds wonderful," I said quietly.
"She was and she would have loved Ellie… she would have loved you." He glanced over at me.
"I wish I could have met her," I said, unable to look at him, as I traced the thin gray veins that ran through the marble floor.
The sentiment made my chest feel tight—my heart ached for him.
I forced down the lump in my throat and decided to change topics.
"Did you always want to be a professional baseball player? "
He tilted his head side to side. "I think originally I did, like any young kid that finds their passion.
I never thought it was a real possibility though, so it was never something I was striving for.
But my mom saw my talent and did everything she had to do to get me the training and opportunities I needed.
I owe it all to her. When I went off to college it ended up becoming a goal of mine.
Not for me, but for her. I wanted to go pro so her life would be easier.
I'd pay off her house, all her debt, everything.
She could retire and just enjoy life." He stroked the back of Ellie's head softly.
"But you know how that turned out," he said sadly.
Silence stretched between us, I wasn't sure what to say. The loss he had experienced was unimaginable, something I couldn't even bring myself to understand.
But there was one thing I knew for certain…
"She would be really proud of you, Cohen," I said with a watery smile.
The door to Ellie’s room clicked shut behind me. Thanks to Cohen, she’d finally settled into a deep sleep. I grabbed the monitor from my room before heading into the living room.
Cohen was leaning over the island in my kitchen, scrolling through his phone.
I cleared my throat to catch his attention. “Thanks for everything tonight. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you here. Truly.”
He pushed off the counter and shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “She’s my daughter, Ava. I’ll be there whenever either of you needs me.”
I glanced at the floor, suddenly feeling awkward at his sincerity. “Well… I think she’ll be out for a while. You don’t have to stick around—I’m sure you have things to do tomorrow.”
Cohen shook his head as he headed for the couch and sank into it. “Nah. I’m off tomorrow. I want to be here in case she wakes up in the middle of the night.”
“Are you sure?”
He grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV. “Yeah. Could you grab us some chips? I’m going to find a movie.”
I stood rooted in place, staring at the back of his head as he scrolled through Netflix like this was any other Tuesday night.
When I didn’t move, he glanced over his shoulder. “Trouble. The chips.”
“Right. Sorry.” I hurried into the pantry and grabbed a couple of different snacks.
Once I settled onto the couch with an array of snacks spread out between us, I leaned my head back and inhaled slowly. For the first time tonight, I felt like I could breathe.
Until his phone vibrated.
Again.
And again.
I nudged my chin toward the phone on the table. “Do you want to get that?”
He shook his head, eyes still on the television screen as he shoveled a handful of chips into his mouth.
His phone buzzed a fourth time.
I couldn't help myself. “It could be that girl you were with in San Francisco—or the one you went on a date with the other night. It’s not very nice to ghost them,” I teased, even as my heart lodged itself in my throat, waiting.
He stopped mid-chew. Hazel eyes flicked to mine.
Keeping his gaze locked on me, he reached for his phone—making a goddamn production of it. He glanced at the screen, then set it back down. “It’s just your brother asking about Ellie. You know how he rapid-fire texts.”
I rubbed my hands down my thighs. Smooth, Ava.
“And just so you know,” he continued, lifting the remote and pausing the TV as he turned fully toward me, “that girl in San Francisco was with Beckham.” His voice dropped. “And I haven’t slept with—let alone kissed—another woman since you.”
Chills erupted across my skin. My stomach dipped.
“Really?” I whispered.
I didn’t know what came over me. Exhaustion from dealing with Ellie, or the vulnerability and honesty of his words. But when he slowly nodded, eyes still locked on mine, I grabbed his face and pulled his mouth to mine.
His hands were instantly in my hair, dragging me closer as his tongue slipped between my lips. He angled my head, deepening the kiss. I straddled his lap, feeling his thick, hard length beneath me. Between my yoga pants and his joggers, there was nothing left to the imagination.
My hips moved on instinct, drawing a deep groan from his throat. I could’ve come just from dry humping this man.
“You’re going to have to slow down if you want this to last, Trouble,” he rasped. “Like I just said, it’s been a minute.”
He pulled my top over my head and tugged my bra down, giving himself instant access. His mouth closed around one breast while his fingers rolled the other nipple.
I dropped my head back with a moan. “Fuck, Coh. That feels so good.”
Cohen leaned forward and grabbed the back of his t-shirt with one hand, yanking it over his head. I raked my fingers down his sculpted chest, a slow smile tugging at my lips.
“You know what I haven’t done,” I said softly, “and I’ve wanted to?”
His brows lifted.
“Fuck on my balcony.”