21. Ava
Ava
It was mid-November, and the Aviators had unfortunately lost in game four.
The guys may have been in the off-season now, but I was in-season—player options, arbitration, trades, free agents, extensions.
The legal side of baseball never slept, and fortunately, it left little room to dwell on Cohen and whatever we had detonated at that club.
Since that night, we’d shifted back into avoidance. Conversations were strictly about Ellie. Drop-offs were efficient and eye contact was minimal. Time with her was separate.
It was better this way because it seemed lately we couldn't even handle being friends.
Or at least that was what I kept telling myself.
I needed to focus on my career. Duke, Lane, and the rest of the legal team had eyes on me. They wanted to see what I could do. They’d chosen me. This was my time to prove they were right.
I was buried in a contract restructuring when a knock sounded against my office doorframe. I glanced up. Tousled, sandy-blonde hair. Deep brown eyes. That easy, unbothered grin.
Hudson.
I leaned back casually in my chair. "And to what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Fuller?" We hadn't seen each other much since the club, but he texted me most days. Always light and flirty.
He crossed the room in a few long strides. "Just finished practice and it had me thinking. I haven't taken you out on a proper date yet. Can I take you to dinner tonight?"
A small smile tugged at my lips. "Throwing a baseball made you think of me?" I teased.
He rounded my desk and planted his hands on the arms of my chair, leaning down close enough that I caught a hint of cologne and sweat. "I think about you all the damn time, Ava." His mouth brushed just beneath my ear—soft, confident.
A small shiver slipped down my spine. My heart ticked a little faster.
It felt good and, for once, uncomplicated. The thing I appreciated most about Hudson was that I always knew how he felt and where I stood with him. He made his intentions clear.
Maybe Aria was right. Maybe I needed to allow more people in, maybe I needed to give someone the chance to choose me.
My eyes met his. “Yes,” I said softly. “I’d love to go out tonight.”
Thankfully, Cohen had Ellie tonight. Because that would have been an awkward conversation I definitely didn't want to have.
Especially after the club.
Hudson pulled out my chair at one of Austin's most expensive steakhouses. I’d been here before with Walker, and don’t get me wrong—the food was incredible.
But this type of place had never really been my thing.
Dark wood paneling climbed the walls. Crisp white tablecloths glowed beneath candlelight, and the waitstaff dressed nicer than some of the patrons.
Hudson followed my gaze and smiled. "This place is great, right?"
I would've preferred a good burger and a cold beer. I nodded. "Yeah, it's really nice."
“I’ve been trying to get the guys to come here after games more often,” he said, reaching for his water. “But Jordan always wants a dive bar with burgers and beer.” He laughed, as if reading my mind.
My stomach flipped at the mention of Cohen. My mind drifted to the times we’d taken Ellie to outdoor breweries or the burger joint down the street.
I swallowed. "Yeah. He loves a good burger," I said quietly.
The sommelier arrived, and Hudson greeted him like an old friend. They decided on which wine would pair best with the entrees Hudson chose for us.
It’s different when Cohen does it.
I checked my phone under the table. No texts from Cohen. No updates about Ellie. I wasn't sure why I expected anything; we weren't really doing that anymore. We communicated only when necessary.
I set it face down and forced myself to focus.
Hudson was handsome. Successful. Interested. There was nothing wrong with him. But every time he mentioned something that brushed against a memory of Cohen, my mind drifted. And I hated that it did.
Our steaks arrived, and we fell into a brief silence. The clink of silverware and the low hum of conversation filled the space between us as I cut into my steak, watching Hudson mirror my movements a second later.
He asked another question—something about work this time—and I answered, nodding along, offering just enough to keep the conversation moving.
This was what a good, normal date should feel like. No guessing or wondering where you stood. No underlying tension or uncertainty.
I should’ve liked that more, I should’ve been relieved.
But instead, I felt… restless. My gaze drifted to the candle between us, watching the flame flicker as I tried to listen to what Hudson was saying.
I think it was something about the off-season, about training, and how he was planning to spend a few weeks back home before coming back to Austin.
I nodded, smiling in the right places, but my mind kept slipping back to a different table…
a different kind of night. Sitting outside across from Cohen at a crowded brewery, as a live band played, Ellie sleeping soundly in her stroller beside us while we split a basket of fries and argued over which team had the better bullpen.
There were no reservations, no dress code.
Just… us.
I blinked, dragging myself back to the present. Hudson was watching me now, his head tilted slightly like he was trying to read something I hadn’t said out loud. I forced another smile and reached for my wine. This was better for me. He was a good guy, this was right. He was right.
So why did it feel like I was sitting in the wrong place?
Hudson cleared his throat. "So, I heard you ride horses?" The mention of horses grabbed my attention.
My eyes met his. "I do. I've been riding since I was little."
A soft smile tugged at his lips before he cut off another piece of steak. "I was bit by one when I was about six years old. Never again. I don't mess with horses," he said with a laugh.
I tilted my head. "What do you mean by never again?"
He finished chewing and took a small sip of wine before answering. "I stay away from them, and I definitely won't ride one again.”
I thought of Cohen standing ten feet from Bentley, trying to pretend he wasn’t intimidated. The way he’d swallowed his nerves and gotten on Tex. The way he’d watched me like I was doing something extraordinary. He’d been scared, and he’d done it anyway.
I didn’t realize how much that mattered until this moment.
Dinner carried on politely. Hudson asked questions and told stories… he tried. And the harder he tried, the clearer it became.
This wasn’t it.
When he pulled up outside my building, he left the engine running. No offer to walk me in. No lingering moment. He leaned across the console for a kiss.
I lifted my hand to his chest gently. “Hudson…”
He gave me a small, knowing smile. “You’re not into me.”
I winced. “You’re a really nice guy—”
“Ah,” he said softly. “That bad, huh?”
I huffed out a breath.
He reached for my hand and squeezed. “That's okay. I felt like something was off tonight, like your mind was somewhere else.” He hesitated. “Can I ask you something?"
I nodded, encouraging him to continue.
"Is it Cohen?”
The question caught me off guard. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. For half a second, I didn’t know how to answer without lying.
Hudson watched me carefully—not accusatory, not angry. Just… observant.
I forced a small laugh. “No. I just don’t think I’m ready to date right now.” It wasn't entirely a lie.
He held my gaze a beat longer than was comfortable. Then he nodded once. “Right,” he said softly.
And the way he said it told me he didn’t believe me.
But he wasn’t going to push.
And I thanked God for that.
It was the day before Thanksgiving, and we were all at my parents' house helping my mom prep. Farrah's family and Dean's family would join us tomorrow—it was going to be a big crew.
"Get the fuck off me!" Walker choked out, struggling to free himself from the headlock Weston had him in.
"Nah. Not until you admit I'm bigger and stronger than you." The look on Weston's face was complete contentment.
Addison was on the floor playing with Ellie. "Walk, I don't get why you always insist on fucking with West." She rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to my daughter.
"Wildflower, baby. Help me." Walker rasped, reaching his hands out toward his wife as his face continued to take on a concerning shade of reddish purple.
Farrah rested her hand on her small bump and sipped her water, unimpressed. "You do this to yourself, Ace."
Weston tightened his hold around Walker's neck with a satisfying laugh.
I sipped from my wine glass and looked at my mom. "Can you call West off? Walker’s beginning to look a little purple now."
With her focus fully on the dough she was rolling out, she shook her head on a sigh. "West, leave your brother alone."
Weston released Walker, who dropped to the floor, holding his neck, dramatically gasping for air—Weston never went against our mom.
"What the fuck, West. All I said was I could probably, maybe, beat you in an arm wrestle." He rubbed his neck.
My dad barked a laugh. "That's one version."
Dean took a pull from his beer. "Yeah. I believe the correct version was, West, I could totally kick your ass if I wanted to. We're the same size, and I'm younger and stronger."
"Semantics," grumbled Walker as he took a seat next to Farrah. "Whose side are you on anyway, Adler?"
Dean nodded toward Weston, "The side of the man who could kill me with his bare hands if he wanted to."
Weston shrugged. "Smart man."
Walker opened his mouth to argue but Farrah clasped her hand firmly over his mouth. "Ace. For the love of God, don't. Just shut the fuck up."
The room erupted in laughter.
"You're mean when you're pregnant," pouted Walker.
After helping my mom bake all of the pies, I settled Ellie down for a nap. When I was sure she was out, I headed back downstairs. The guys were all arguing loudly over football in the living room, while the girls were talking quietly around the dining room table.
I didn't want to join either of them.
Weston's gaze met mine as I lingered in the kitchen. He studied me a moment, his brows pulled together. An unspoken communication passed between us.
You okay?
I gave him a soft smile. I'm good.
He responded with a small nod as I slipped out the back.
I settled into one of the chairs by the fire pit.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled mindlessly through social media before opening my camera roll.
I’d taken a picture earlier of Ellie playing with pie dough on the counter, her smile wide and gummy.
I switched to my contacts, my thumb hovering over Cohen’s name.
We used to send each other things like that… little moments.
But we weren’t doing that anymore.
I tossed my phone onto the cushion beside me and stared out at the dark fields beyond the porch. The cold air bit at my skin, grounding in a way the noise inside the house wasn’t. Out here, everything was quiet. Still.
I wrapped my arms around myself and leaned back in the chair, letting my head fall against it as I closed my eyes. Hudson should have been what I wanted. He was what I’d always wanted—a man who chose me and made every effort to show me just that.
The evening breeze rolled in from the hills, goosebumps prickling across my skin. I leaned over and grabbed one of the blankets my mom left out for nights like this.
But why didn’t I want Hudson? I’d built my life around things that were steady and reliable. My career, my horses, my family. And for the most part… it had worked.
Until him.
Cohen was never part of the plan. He was noncommittal, unpredictable, and complicated in every way I tried to avoid. Every time we crossed a line, disaster.
That should’ve been enough to warn me off. Enough to not want anything more.
Shouldn’t it?
I let out a slow breath, staring up at the dark sky.
And somehow… he was the one person whom I could always count on. The one person I always seemed to want.
The house behind me was loud. Full and warm.
I was surrounded by love. By my family. By the people who chose me.
And yet…
I had never felt more alone.
Again.
Constantly surrounded by people—and yet incredibly alone.