20. Ava
Ava
Cohen could fuck all the way off.
I beelined for the bar. I needed a drink. A strong one after watching that girl practically dry hump him on the couch like she’d been waiting all season for her turn. I was done.
Who even does that?
“Cohen always wants to hook up after a big win. I think it's the adrenaline, ” Blondie had smirked to her friend at the game earlier, loud enough for half the section to hear.
“He’s going to be excited to see you,” her friend squealed.
Excited to see her? Has he been talking to her?
When Hudson had texted asking if I wanted to join him at a club after the game, the answer came easily. Especially after sitting two rows over from one of Cohen’s old flavors of the week. I wasn’t even sure how Hudson had gotten my number, but he was hot, single, and clearly interested.
Plus, I needed a distraction.
I leaned over the bar, tapping my fingers impatiently against the sticky wood. The place was slammed. Bodies pressed tight, the music pulsing through the floor.
Two large hands landed on either side of me, caging me in.
Déjà fucking vu.
Only this time, it wasn’t Cohen.
It was Hudson.
Tall. Broad. Sandy blonde hair. Whiskey-colored eyes. A lazy grin that knew exactly what it was doing.
“I was wondering where you ran off to,” he said, voice low near my ear.
I spun around. “I needed a drink." I smiled up at him sweetly.
“That’s my job.” He flagged down the bartender with ease — the perks of being the newest golden boy on the roster — and ordered for us.
A few shots later, warmth spread through my veins.
My edges softened, my restraint thinned…
just enough to pretend Cohen’s presence didn’t matter.
I grabbed Hudson’s hand and dragged him onto the dance floor.
His hands settled on my hips without hesitation.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting the music move us.
He pulled me closer, and I let my body melt into his.
He dropped his head. “You’re beautiful, Ava,” he murmured against my ear.
I looked over his shoulder, and sure enough, Cohen was watching.
Blondie was still straddling him, her fingers tangled in his hair. There was this unsettling familiarity between them, like they’d done this many times before. Or maybe they never stopped.
My stomach sank. Something sharp and ugly twisted inside me.
Message received.
I dropped my arms from Hudson’s shoulders and slid my hands up his chest, over his jaw, gripping lightly. Then I pulled his mouth down to mine.
He didn’t hesitate. His hands tightened at my waist as his mouth moved against mine, slow and confident. I opened for him. His tongue brushed mine, and he made a low sound in his throat when I tugged at his hair.
It wasn’t soft or tentative. It was deliberate.
I held onto him for a second longer than necessary.
Just long enough to prove a point. To him and to myself…
because this was what I wanted, right? Easy.
Simple. No history and no complications.
No more blurred lines I couldn’t walk back from.
If this crashed and burned, Ellie would remain unaffected.
Hudson’s grip tightened at my waist, steady and confident, like this was exactly where he expected me to be. And for a second, I let myself sink into it. Let myself pretend this felt right.
But something didn’t land. Not wrong—just… not enough.
My fingers curled slightly in his shirt as I forced my attention back to him.
Focus, Ava. This is what you want.
So why did it feel like I was trying to convince myself?
I broke the kiss just long enough to glance toward where Cohen had been sitting. The couch was empty. Cohen and Blondie were gone.
Needing to give my feet a break—the heels I’d chosen to wear were hot, but wildly impractical—I dropped onto one of the couches with Aria and Drake while Hudson disappeared toward the bathroom.
“So… are you and Hudson a thing now?” Aria asked carefully, confusion written all over her face.
I shrugged. “Not really. He asked me out tonight. I said yes. I’m just having some fun.”
“I thought things were progressing with you and Cohen,” she said quietly, so no one else could hear.
I let out a sharp laugh. “Yeah. Right. I’m just his baby mama. He made that crystal clear tonight.”
“He didn’t look very happy when Hudson’s tongue was down your throat,” Aria muttered before taking a pull from her beer.
I scoffed. “Please. He looked fine. That girl was taking very good care of him.” I picked at the label on my bottle. “Where is he anyway?”
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Aria glanced at Drake. “Where’d Cohen go?”
Drake nodded toward the bar.
It was like the crowd parted on purpose. Like the universe wanted me to see it. Cohen stood with his back against the bar, facing me. Blondie was pressed to his front, arms looped around his neck. His hands rested low on her hips. She pulled his mouth down to hers. But that wasn’t the worst part.
Nope.
As his mouth moved against hers—slow, with purpose—his eyes opened.
And locked on mine.
The grip on my beer tightened. Hot tears burned behind my eyes.
“Jesus,” Aria muttered.
Drake ran a hand over his face. “What the fuck is happening tonight?”
Hudson returned, dropping onto the couch beside me and pulling me into his side. “What’s everyone looking at?” He followed our line of sight. “Nice!” he said approvingly, completely clueless.
Moments later, Cohen and Blondie rejoined the group.
They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Her fingers were in his hair, his mouth was at her neck… her laugh was too fucking loud.
He isn’t that funny.
I could feel the anger bubbling up, hot and reckless. I should have kept my mouth shut. But I didn’t.
I blame the shots.
“Can you two just fucking leave and get a goddamn room already?” I snapped, pointing toward the exit. “We get it. You want to fuck each other. Do the rest of us a favor and see your way out.”
Aria’s hand shot to my arm, and Hudson’s grip tightened around my waist, as if I was about to launch myself at them. Drake slumped down further into the couch.
Cohen’s eyes snapped to mine but then dropped. To where Hudson’s arm was wrapped around me.
He stood abruptly. “You know what, Ava?” he said coolly.
“You’re right. That’s a great idea.” Cohen looked down at Blondie.
“Let’s go back to my place, Kate.” She eagerly scrambled to her feet.
His hand settled low on her back. “I could use a good fuck,” he added casually over his shoulder as he led her toward the door. “It’s been a while.”
Drake dropped his head into his hands and groaned.
Everything inside me went still. I watched him choose her. Watched him walk out of the club with someone else, like it was just another Saturday night. And for him, that’s exactly what it was because this was who he was. Who he had always been.
“Some things don’t stay on the table forever.” Weston’s words chose a cruel time to echo in my head.
I couldn’t help but feel like we had just crushed something fragile between us.
And worse, I couldn’t help but feel like this was all my fault.
I stumbled into my kitchen the next morning in desperate need of strong coffee and something greasy enough to soak up my bad decisions.
Like an angel sent from heaven, Aria was already seated at the counter.
Two coffees sat in front of her alongside a paper bag from my favorite taco place down the street.
“I figured you could use tacos,” she said, sliding the bag toward me.
I nearly teared up. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve cried for tacos. I unwrapped one and shamelessly shoved half of it into my mouth. “Thank you,” I mumbled around a mouthful, grabbing the coffee and washing it down.
Aria watched me over the rim of her cup. “So,” she said carefully. “Last night was… interesting.”
I sank onto the stool beside her. “Yeah. I need to lay off the shots. I’m almost thirty,” I muttered with a dry chuckle.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s not what I’m referring to.”
I sighed.
“I’m talking about the pissing match you and Cohen seemed determined to win.”
I stared down at my taco. Or what was left of it.
“You don’t want Hudson, Ava,” she continued, voice steady. “You want Cohen. And after what I saw last night? I’m pretty positive he wants you too.”
I scoffed, even though the sound felt hollow. “I don’t think so, Aria. Cohen just wants what he can’t have. He has zero interest in commitment.”
“Did he tell you that himself?”
My mouth opened. Then shut.
Aria reached across the counter and wrapped her hand around mine.
“Ava,” she said gently, surgically. “You’ve spent years assuming that if someone doesn’t fight for you loudly, they don’t want you.”
I swallowed.
“But Cohen doesn’t fight loudly,” she continued. “He just… stays. He shows up.”
That hit hard.
“You’re already writing the ending to something that hasn’t even started,” she went on.
“You’re deciding he won’t choose you before he even gets the chance.
Before you've even given him the chance.” Her thumb brushed across my knuckles.
“You’ve always been easy to love, Ava. You just learned early not to expect it back. ”
My chest tightened.
“But he doesn’t want me like that,” I insisted weakly. “I know he doesn’t. He’s always just wanted to hook up. That’s how it’s been since the night we met.”
Aria let out a soft, knowing laugh. “That’s not what I saw in Walker’s apartment all those years ago. I saw a guy who couldn’t take his eyes off you. A guy who still can’t.” She tilted her head slightly. “Walker saw it too. That’s why he shut it down immediately.”
“If that were true,” I said quietly, “why wouldn’t he say anything?”
Aria didn’t hesitate. “Because your brother made it clear you were off-limits. Because he's Walker’s best friend. And once Ellie came into the picture? The stakes got even higher.” She held my gaze.
“Silence isn’t always indifference. Sometimes it’s restraint.
Sometimes it’s someone choosing not to risk losing what little they’re allowed to have of someone.
” She sighed. “He has to protect himself too, Ava.” She held my gaze as I remained silent.
“You’ve built walls so high no one can scale them.
Every time someone let you down, you added another brick.
And it’s not just men. It’s everyone.” She gave me a small smile.
“You let me in. Your family. But that’s about it. ”
My throat tightened.
“I’m just afraid,” she finished gently, “that you’re keeping out the one person who was always meant to be on the other side of that wall.” She squeezed my hand once before standing. “I’m going to jump in the shower.”
I nodded numbly as she disappeared down the hall.
I sat there for a long time, staring down at the half-eaten taco in my hand as if it might somehow make this make sense. Aria’s words kept replaying in my head, over and over again, each one landing heavier than the last.
He just… stays. He shows up.
I swallowed past the ache in my throat. He had, hadn’t he? He’d stayed through everything—the pregnancy, the chaos, the sleepless nights. The moments I didn’t have it all together.
He’d shown up. Every single time. Without being asked and without expecting anything in return.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
But that didn’t mean he wanted me. It didn’t mean I was the one he would choose. Last night proved that.
Didn’t it?
The unwelcome images from last night flashed through my mind—his hands on her, his mouth on her, the way he looked at me while he did it. Like he wanted me to see. Like he needed me to see. As if that would clear up any ridiculous notion I may have had about us.
My stomach twisted. I dropped my gaze to my hands, fingers tightening around the edge of the counter.
I’d spent years telling myself that keeping things casual, keeping people at a distance, was the smart move. The safe move. No expectations meant no disappointment, and no attachment meant no heartbreak.
But sitting here now—
I wasn’t so sure that was true anymore.
My mind drifted back to Walker’s apartment nearly a decade ago. The way Cohen had looked at me that night.
Was everything Aria said true?
After last night, I didn't know what to believe.
Cohen went home with someone else, without hesitation.
If he wanted me…
Why did he choose her?