18. Cohen
Cohen
Hudson Fuller.
Joined the Aviators back in July. Ace prospect. And the newest member on my shit list.
Taking advantage of a short break in practice, I headed toward the on-site daycare to check in on Ellie. It was her first week here, and I hadn’t gone more than a few hours without making sure she was good.
I rounded the corner—and stopped dead in my tracks.
Ava and Hudson.
Standing a little too close in the hallway.
They were so caught up in each other that they didn’t notice me. So, I did what any mature, emotionally evolved adult would do.
I hung back and eavesdropped.
Ava’s head tipped back on a laugh, bright and unguarded, her hand landing lightly on his forearm.
“That’s so true,” I heard her say.
Hudson’s grin spread wide across his face. His eyes lit up as he looked down at her like she’d just handed him a gift.
My hands fisted at my sides.
Why the hell is she touching him?
I noticed the way she was standing—open, relaxed, like she didn’t have a single wall up. I hadn’t seen that version of Ava in a long time, at least not with me. My jaw tightened as Hudson said something else, low enough I couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it made her laugh again… like she liked him.
Something hot and sharp twisted inside me.
This was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous. She was single, and I’d made damn sure of that. I was the one who didn’t want a relationship, though lately it seemed neither did she.
Maybe she just didn't want one with me.
That realization hurt more than it should.
My eyes locked on him again. Taller than I remembered. Built. Confident. The kind of guy women noticed, the kind of guy Ava deserved.
That thought sat heavy in my gut because, for whatever reason, the idea of her choosing him didn’t sit right.
“I’ve got to get back down to the field,” I heard Hudson say. He reached out and squeezed her arm gently. “Remember. You owe me that coffee.” He winked.
And if I didn’t know any better, I could’ve sworn I saw a faint blush rise in her cheeks.
Motherfucker.
She smiled—soft, almost shy—and turned to walk away. Ava was never shy.
My jaw clenched so tight I was fairly certain I cracked a molar as I watched Hudson’s eyes trail slowly down her body, lingering on her ass.
Could I blame him?
Probably not.
She was wearing a fitted skirt that hugged every curve, professional but devastating. But goddammit, she was not his to look at like that.
She isn’t yours either, dipshit.
Hudson finally turned and spotted me. “Hey, Coh. What’s up?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped fully into view. I still had an inch on him. I used it. “Checking on my daughter.”
He nodded. “That's right. You and Ava had a daughter together.”
Had. Like it was ancient history.
I gave him a tight nod.
His eyes widened slightly, hands lifting in mock surrender. “Shit. Are you two together?” He glanced down the hall to where Ava had disappeared. “Sorry, man. I thought I heard you weren’t.”
I dropped my arms, forcing my shoulders to relax.
Chill the fuck out, man.
“Nah,” I said evenly. “We’re not together.” The words burned like acid on my tongue.
His posture loosened almost immediately. “Oh. Okay. Good.” He hesitated, then went for it. “She single?”
That question pissed me off more than it should’ve.
I stepped past him, jaw tight. “I don’t know,” I threw over my shoulder. “You’d have to ask her.”
And for reasons I didn’t want to examine too closely, I hoped she'd tell him no.
Callie was in town to catch one of my playoff games.
We’d just gotten back from the stadium—she was still riding the high of it, talking a mile a minute the entire drive home while I tried to come down from the adrenaline.
She’d kicked off her shoes, raided my pantry, and taken over my couch within minutes.
She was all curled up underneath a blanket with a strawberry Pop-Tart in hand like she was twelve instead of twenty-nine.
“That new pitcher y’all picked up is pretty awesome,” she said around a mouthful of processed pastry.
Fuck that guy.
I sank onto the couch beside her, running a hand through my hair. “He’s all right,” I said flatly.
Callie scoffed. “All right? He struck out one of the best hitters in the league tonight. What game were you watching?” She took another aggressive bite of her sugar bomb.
I ignored her and grabbed the remote, flipping through the newest releases on Netflix.
She shoved my shoulder. “What’s up with you tonight? You’re quiet. Which is weird since you played a great game.”
I stayed silent.
She lunged for the remote and somehow managed to kick my shoulder in the process. “COHEN JORDAN. ANSWER ME. NOW.”
I rolled my eyes and exhaled heavily, yanking the remote back. “Fine.” I clicked on some random murder documentary and tossed the remote onto the coffee table. “I saw Hudson flirting with Ava the other day. And she… didn’t seem to mind.”
Callie nodded slowly. “Ah. I had a feeling this had something to do with Ava.”
“I don’t know why it bothers me,” I muttered.
“I don’t want a relationship. We're finally friends again, and we’ve got a good thing going.
I'm not trying to mess that up. Especially for Ellie.” I said it like I was trying to convince myself.
“He wants to ask her out,” I added quietly, picking at an invisible piece of lint on my shorts.
Callie inhaled slowly. “Cohen, you can’t—”
But her voice faded as memories of Primrose Hill flooded my head.
Watching Ava ride—confident, controlled, completely in her element. The way she seemed to glow from the inside out. The bar with her family. The easy laughter. The way I slipped into the rhythm of them, like I’d always been there. Her cheeks flushed from one too many beers.
My mind drifted back to her parents’ house. That night. The quiet hallway. The creak of old hardwood beneath my feet as I padded toward her room. My ear pressed against her door.
I’d stood there longer than I wanted to admit.
Hand lifted… ready to knock.
Ready to… what?
Fuck up everything we’d just gotten back?
I dropped my hand.
She didn’t want me like that and I wasn’t even sure I could be that. We were just friends. We needed to be just friends.
I turned around and walked back to my room. Lying there staring at the ceiling like an idiot.
And I swear to God…
For a second, I thought I heard footsteps outside my door.
“Coh. Are you even listening to me?” Callie’s voice cut through the memory.
I blinked and shook my head. “Yeah. Sorry.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What did I just say?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Can you repeat it?” I flashed an apologetic smile.
She huffed dramatically, throwing a pillow in my face, and then started over.
But I wasn’t really hearing her.
What would have happened if she’d come to my room?
The guys wanted a low-key night before our final game of the Wild Card Series against Atlanta. Tomorrow would decide who advanced to the ALDS. No one wanted to be out late or doing anything stupid. We decided on dinner and an early night.
I was mid-conversation with Drake when Shane pushed through the door of the private room. I glanced up, my smile immediately dying when I saw Hudson trailing behind him.
Shane hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I brought Fuller.” As if that was totally acceptable.
It wasn’t, for the record.
He was a good player, and the team liked him. That should’ve been enough. But every time he opened his mouth, every time someone laughed at something he said, I felt it. This gnawing irritation. Like a rock in my shoe I couldn’t shake loose.
Drake tipped his chin toward Hudson. “Hey, man. Glad you could join us.”
I shot Drake a look.
He shrugged, brows pinched in confusion.
Traitor.
Hudson slid into the seat between Shane and Beckham, like he was now a part of the group. The server appeared, taking drink orders before returning with beers all around.
“Fuller, you ready for tomorrow?” Beckham asked, lifting his glass.
Hudson took a pull before answering. “Yeah. I feel good. Definitely feel some pressure though. You guys are coming off a World Series win. I don’t want to let anybody down.”
Shane laughed. “Bro, we didn’t even think we had a shot this year until you showed up.”
It took monumental restraint not to roll my eyes into my goddamn skull.
Maddox chimed in, “Yeah, happy to have you on the team, Fuller.” He raised his beer in a toast.
Everyone followed suit.
They all looked at me.
Waiting.
I blew out a slow breath and lifted my glass.
What the hell is wrong with these guys?
Hudson wasn’t Walker. Not even close. We still had work to do. This dude wasn’t some golden ticket back to the World Series.
The conversation drifted into easy banter. I sank into my seat, forcing myself to focus on the table. On the guys. On literally anything else.
It didn’t work. Because somehow, without even trying, the guy had already gotten under my skin.
Drake elbowed me in the ribs. “What’s with you, Jordan?”
I rubbed my side. “Nothing. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but my attention snapped left when I heard Ava’s name slip from Hudson’s mouth.
Beckham nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, she’s Walker James’ little sister. I can’t believe you didn’t know that.”
“I didn’t ask her what her last name was,” Hudson said easily. “Do you think it’ll piss Walker off if I ask her out?”
The air shifted.
Shane stabbed his fork into a scallop. “A year ago? Probably. But…” His eyes lifted to me with a smug grin. “Then his best friend knocked her up, so I’d say he’s calmed down about the whole dating-his-sister thing.”
“Yeah, dating her is a cakewalk compared to what Jordan pulled,” Maddox said before shoving a forkful of salad into his mouth.
I might’ve growled. Hard to tell.
The guys were all bent over laughing, having a great fucking time, while Beckham smirked behind his beer. Hudson glanced at me; sympathy practically stamped across his face.
That only pissed me off more. The last thing I needed was this guy feeling sorry for me.
Drake sighed. “All right, enough. Leave Cohen alone. That shit’s old news.”
I shot him a grateful look.
Silence settled for half a beat. Hudson, apparently incapable of reading a room, leaned forward again. “So… is that a no? Walker won’t care if I ask her out?”
I blew out a breath. Drake looked down, shaking his head in disbelief.
“You’re good, Fuller,” Beckham said around a mouthful of bread.
That was it. That was the green light.
Our entrees arrived, giving me something to focus on besides the fact that my teammates—my so-called closest friends—basically just handed this guy permission to take the one woman I couldn’t stop thinking about out on a date.
The guys shifted back into game talk.
Drake turned toward me, pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth.
“Things are becoming a lot clearer.”
I stared at him. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”