15. Cohen
Cohen
The number of texts I’d typed out and then deleted was becoming comical.
Whole paragraphs, half-sentences, stupid ass jokes, all gone with a swipe of my thumb.
I was on the road for a few weeks, bouncing from Arizona to California and then up to Washington, and the distance was both wonderful and terrible, given everything that had happened between Ava and me.
Wonderful, because I needed the space. I told myself I needed it. I needed time to clear my head, to shake myself out of the illusion that something had shifted between us—that whatever I’d felt that night meant more. She’d made it clear the following morning that it hadn’t.
At least not for her.
Terrible, because I hated being away from her and Ellie.
The more time I spent with Ava, the more I’d learned her—the quiet tells, the way she chewed on her bottom lip when she was thinking, how her voice softened without her realizing it when she talked to Ellie.
Somehow, without asking permission, she’d embedded herself into a space inside my chest I hadn’t known existed.
Now, every time I left Austin, it felt like I was leaving a piece of myself behind. Like I moved through the world slightly off-balance, missing something essential. I wasn’t whole unless I was with them.
I sat on the edge of my hotel bed, elbows braced against my thighs, staring at my phone while the muffled sounds of the hallway filtered in under the door.
Laughter. Voices. The guys were heading out to dinner.
I should’ve been hungry after the game, but the knot in my stomach took up too much space.
I wanted to text Ava.
I wanted to FaceTime with Ellie.
But something stopped me every time my thumb hovered over her name.
Self-preservation, maybe. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that the hurt still sat there, heavy and unresolved—the sting of having opened up to her in a way I never did, only to be met with nothing in return. No sharing. No balance. Just walls snapping back into place.
I ran a hand through my hair and pushed to my feet. I needed to get out of this room, get her out of my head. I told myself I’d text her tomorrow, when my thoughts weren’t such a mess. For now, I needed to respect her boundaries.
Hell, I needed to start creating some of my own.
Because if I didn’t draw the line now, I wasn’t sure I’d know how to later.
And that was a problem.
I held out for one day.
Now I was back in my hotel room after an early game, the sky outside already darkening, my phone propped against a water bottle on the desk as I waited for Ava to answer my FaceTime call.
She picked up on the third ring.
Her face filled the screen, soft and familiar, dark hair pulled back loosely, her skin glowing. My heart rate kicked up a few beats before I could stop it.
Fuck. She’s gorgeous.
“Hey,” she said, smiling warmly into the camera. “How was your game today? I saw y’all won, but I wasn’t able to catch it.”
“Good. Yeah, we won.” I forced a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Where’s Ellie?” My gaze drifted past her, scanning the screen automatically.
I didn’t miss the way Ava’s smile faltered. Just for a second.
But goddamn it, she couldn’t have it both ways. She couldn’t expect me to be open and soft with her while she stayed closed off with me.
“One sec,” she said, already moving. “She’s doing tummy time.”
A moment later, Ellie’s chubby cheeks took over the screen, her wide eyes blinking up at me. The sight of her hit like a reset button. My shoulders dropped, the tension easing from my body as an easy grin spread across my face.
“Hey, my Ellie girl,” I murmured.
I made ridiculous faces, exaggerated sounds, anything to pull giggles out of her. Every smile she gave me felt like oxygen. Ava turned the camera back toward herself once Ellie had been sufficiently entertained.
“So,” she said casually, “I thought when you get home, maybe we could take her for a walk to this new park I found. She loves it—there’s a bunch of ducks by this little lake.”
The invitation was easy. Familiar. The kind we’d fallen into without thinking.
“Yeah,” I said after a beat. “Maybe. I’ve got some things planned for when I have her.”
The silence that followed was brief—but it was loud. Ava pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded, her gaze dropping from the camera.
“Oh. Yeah. No, that’s totally fine.”
I saw it then. The flicker of hurt she tried to hide. It wedged itself squarely in my chest. I pushed it aside. I had to.
“Well,” I said, my voice tighter than I wanted it to be, “I’ve got to go. Team dinner.” I ended the call before she could respond.
This was for the best. We didn’t need conversations that blurred lines anymore. We didn’t need walks that felt like family outings. We didn’t need moments that built hope where none should exist. We needed uncomplicated friendship and a strong co-parenting relationship for Ellie.
But none of that stopped the ache that followed. The sharp awareness of the disappointment I’d just put there, the image of Ava’s eyes flashing with something I pretended not to recognize.
Setting boundaries was supposed to make things easier.
It just didn’t feel like it was working yet.
After a long two weeks of road games, I was finally home.
When I arrived at my apartment building, I’d mistakenly ridden the main elevator—the one that stopped on Ava’s floor—purely out of habit.
Muscle memory, almost like instinct. I usually rushed to see her and Ellie whenever I got back from a trip, even if it was just for two minutes to say goodnight.
It took every ounce of restraint I had to press the Lobby button instead, ride the elevator back down, step off, and cross the marble floor to my private elevator.
Every. Last. Fucking. Ounce.
The plan was for Ellie to be with me tomorrow and spend the night since I had a few days off before my next game. I did my best to keep myself busy the rest of the night and into the morning—anything to keep from caving. From walking down the hall. From knocking on Ava’s door.
I had to keep the boundary firmly intact. I needed to.
Ava and I had texted a few times while I was on the road, and I’d FaceTimed Ellie whenever I could, but I’d kept everything short. Polite. Logistical. I needed to figure out a way back to the old me—the one whose life didn’t revolve around one woman.
When the hell did I become that guy?
The only woman my life would forever revolve around was Ellie, and that was enough.
Or so I kept telling myself.
I’d even scrolled through my roster the night before, my thumb hovering over names I used to call without thinking. Old habits. Old patterns. I told myself if I slipped back into who I’d been before Ava, maybe this would all loosen its grip on me. Maybe I’d remember how easy things used to be.
But for the first time in my life, the thought of anyone else felt hollow. Forced. I had zero desire to talk to any of them.
So instead, I deleted every single contact.
There was only one person I wanted to reach out to—and she was the one person I couldn’t afford to lose.
The chime of the elevator pulled me out of my spiral. I stood from the barstool and crossed the foyer, my body moving on instinct. Ava stepped inside with Ellie’s stroller, but I stopped myself just in time.
Every part of me wanted to pull Ava into a hug. To feel her there. To pretend this wasn’t different. I planted my feet instead, grounding myself where I stood.
Her lips tipped up in a small smile as she adjusted the bag hanging off her shoulder, Ellie tucked snugly into her stroller. “Hey. I probably packed too much again,” she said with a small laugh.
The awkwardness was palpable.
I nodded as I knelt to pull Ellie out of the stroller, settling her against my shoulder and rubbing her back automatically. “Hey, my baby girl,” I murmured. “Ready for a daddy-daughter day?” I leaned back to look at her face, my chest loosening just a fraction.
Ava set the bag down and rested her hands on her hips. “She just ate, so she should be good for a few hours. I changed her right before we left.” She hesitated. “What are you two up to today?”
I ignored the hope threaded through her question.
No matter whose day it was with Ellie, if I was in town, we usually spent at least part of it together. It was never planned. Never intentional. We just slipped into it—parenting side by side.
I knew that had to stop.
I bounced Ellie gently. “I was thinking about taking her to the botanical garden. They’ve got a butterfly house I think she’d love.”
Ava chewed on her bottom lip, her gaze dropping to the floor. “That sounds really fun,” she said quietly. “Take pictures for me?”
“I will. I roped Drake into coming, so I’ll have him take a few.”
Silence stretched between us, tight and fragile. And yeah… still entirely fucking awkward.
She cleared her throat. “Well… I should head out. You two have fun. Text me if you need anything.” She paused. “I’ll pick her up around ten tomorrow, if that works?”
I nodded and bent to grab Ellie’s bag. “That works. See you later.”
Ava lingered for a beat, like she was waiting for something—anything—before turning on her heel and stepping back into the elevator.
When the doors slid shut, the air felt lighter. Quieter. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, but the knot that had taken up permanent residence in my stomach only tightened.
This was better. It had to be. Ellie needed stability. Consistency. Something uncomplicated. I didn’t commit to women, wasn’t even sure I knew how—and Ava didn’t want anything beyond friendship, at least not with me.
This was the beginning of reinforcing boundaries. For both of us.
It would get easier with time. The ache would fade. The unease would loosen its grip.
It has to.
I looked down at Ellie, her tiny fist shoved into her mouth. Not a care in the world. Completely unaware of the turmoil in my head over her mother.
“It’s better this way,” I murmured, tapping her nose softly. “For both of us. And especially for you.”
Even as the words left my mouth, I wasn’t entirely sure I believed them.