26. Ava
Ava
My head was buried in our second baseman’s contract when my office door swung open. Lane crossed the room in a few long strides, his expression tight.
"Ava, put Damon's contract on hold. Boston made Jordan an offer, and I need you to draft a counteroffer. He has to make a decision in a week, but I'd like to have a term sheet by end of day." He slid two pieces of paper across my desk before heading back out the door.
I stayed motionless, staring at the papers for a solid five minutes before I gathered the nerve to actually read them.
Dread sat heavy in my stomach. I didn’t need to see the numbers to know we couldn’t fully match it.
We were rebuilding the pitching staff. And this was Boston; they had deep pockets.
With shaky hands, I lifted the first paper. Boston's offer.
Fuck me.
Five years. One hundred and thirty-five million.
Full no-trade clause. He would be crazy not to take it.
Next, I looked at the offer Duke and our GM wanted to counter with.
Four years. One hundred and twelve million.
Full no-trade clause, player option in year four.
It was less total money, less time… Boston wanted him longer.
But the Aviators were giving him more autonomy.
A higher annual value, a full no-trade, a player option in year four, plus a signing bonus and performance incentives.
I blew out a steadying breath. It was a strong counter, but it still might not be enough for him.
I might not be enough for him.
I shoved the thought away. I was the one who firmly locked our friendship boundary back into place. I didn’t have the right to think like that.
We hadn't spoken much about what the future looked like for his career.
He seemed to love the Aviators, but outside of Ellie, he had nothing else tying him to the city, and with how much he already traveled, a different home base wouldn't change much.
We could make long-distance co-parenting work.
We had the resources—my brother-in-law had a private jet.
Cohen was thirty, so maybe five or six more years in the league. It wouldn't be forever.
Or at least that was what I kept telling myself as I began drafting the term sheet.
I felt like I was personally handing him his ticket out of Austin.
Because why would he stay? Outside of Ellie, I hadn't given him any reason to.
This was the best move for his career. Boston was a dream team for most players, and that kind of money was a lot to walk away from.
I wanted the best for Cohen, and on paper, Boston was the best.
When the term sheet was finalized, I hovered my mouse over the send button, reluctant to click it.
My eyes stung, my heart was lodged in my throat, my chest tight.
Were my palms sweating? I hit send and quickly swiped at the tear that escaped.
I cleared my throat and immediately squared my shoulders.
Get your shit together, Ava. You're stronger than this.
I stared at the screen long after the email disappeared, like if I looked hard enough I could pull it back. Undo it. Pretend I hadn’t just sent the man I—
I squeezed my eyes shut. Nope, don’t go there. This was my job. This was what I was good at.
Numbers. Contracts. Structure. Control.
I’d built my entire career on making decisions like this—clean, logical, unemotional. So why did this one feel like I’d just signed something away instead?
My fingers hovered over my keyboard, useless now. There was nothing left to draft. Nothing left to revise. The decision was out of my hands.
My stomach twisted, I hated this feeling. I hated not knowing. I hated the waiting… and I hated that for once, there was nothing I could do to control the outcome. Because this wasn’t just a contract—this was his life… this was my life.
I pushed back from my desk, dragging a hand down my face. Boston was the right choice. The offers, side by side… it wasn’t even close. Boston had a better roster, more money, and, not to mention, a real shot at another ring next year. It was everything he deserved.
But I felt like I just helped him walk out of my life.
I glanced at the clock. I still had enough time to finish up Damon's contract before picking up Ellie. I pulled up his contract. The words blurred together as I stared at the screen, but my mind was locked on Christmas.
I’d told myself the bracelet I had made for him was a peace offering.
A way to reset us. To remind him we were partners in this.
I’d called it a peace offering, but maybe it had been a way to choose him.
Without admitting I was choosing him. His reaction to the gift was worth it.
The way his eyes lit up when he gently traced Ellie's initials etched into the wood with his fingertips.
How uncomfortable he got accepting a gift, as if no one had ever given him something without motive.
I remembered the way he’d handed me that photo he had gotten me, like it was nothing. But it was everything. It was us, together, as a family.
Family—I haven't had a family Christmas since my mom passed.
I’d caught the word immediately that night. Was that what we were? That word undid me, and I had opened up to Cohen in a way I hadn't with anyone in a long time. He’d listened without interrupting, empathy steady in his eyes. He’d comforted me… and then… he’d kissed me.
I brushed my fingertips over my lips, as if I could still feel his against mine. I would never get tired of kissing him, but he wasn't mine, and this Boston deal was even further proof I’d made the right call in stopping us before we’d got started Christmas night.
Boston cemented that friendship was safer.
But I couldn’t stop wondering—would his decision be different if I hadn’t stopped him that night?
After putting Ellie down for the night, I grabbed a glass of wine and my laptop.
I settled down onto my couch and took a large sip before opening my computer.
I’d sent the term sheet to Lane only four hours ago, but I was still hoping we’d hear something from Cohen’s agent tonight. I clicked open my email.
Nothing. Dammit.
I grabbed the remote and started scrolling, looking for something—anything—to distract me. My eyes drifted back to my laptop… and I refreshed my email again.
Nothing.
I pushed off the couch. Maybe a bath would settle my nerves. Worth a shot. Once the tub was filled, I added some lavender bath salts and bubbles before slipping inside. Yup, this was what I needed to relax. I took a sip of wine, turned some music on from my phone, and let my eyes fall closed.
I lasted maybe ten minutes before I refreshed my email on my phone.
And still nothing.
I stared at the screen like something might magically appear if I waited long enough. Cohen's decision, a note from his agent that he was considering our offer… anything.
My grip tightened around my phone.
Four hours—that wasn’t long in the grand scheme of contract negotiations. I knew that. Deals like this took time; there usually was some back-and-forth. But this didn’t feel like a negotiation; it felt like a countdown. Every hour that passed was one step closer to him leaving.
My stomach was in knots, my lungs felt tight.
I groaned, dropping my head against the tub in frustration.
I just wanted to know what was going to happen.
I needed to know. I needed to begin mentally preparing myself for Cohen to leave.
But I would be fine, right? This fear, this dread, was all because I thrived on routine, on being in control. And right now, I was anything but.
I only lasted another ten minutes in the tub before deciding to get out and call it a night. In the time it took me to get out of the tub and climb into bed, I checked my email at least five more times.
As I began to drift off to sleep, I assured myself I would surely know something by tomorrow.
I knew nothing the following day. Or several days after that. And I’d be lying if I said the silence wasn’t starting to feel like an answer.
I was staring at my email, willing an update to come through, when I spotted Lane walking by my office. "Lane!" I called out, grabbing his attention. He stopped mid-stride, backed up, and entered my office.
"Good morning, Ava. What's up?"
"Any word from Scott yet? It's been four days." I tried to keep my tone neutral and failed.
"Not yet. But that's a good thing. They're thinking. We want thinking, we don't want an immediate no."
I nodded. "Right."
He smiled and disappeared from my office to wherever he’d originally been headed. What I wanted to say, but didn't, was that silence also meant he was considering Boston. If he weren't, we would have heard by now.
My phone vibrated against my desk, sending my heart racing. I grabbed it, hoping for a text from Cohen, but it was a text from Addison. My heart sank. I set it back down.
He hadn’t said anything, not a word. Not about Boston, not about the offer, not about what he was thinking.
I had seen Cohen briefly since our offer was sent, but he’d given nothing away.
We’d made the usual small talk around our daughter and talked about insignificant things.
Our friendship had still been solid since Christmas…
as if our future wasn't hanging in the balance.
Our future.
Because it wasn’t just his future. If he left, mine shifted too.
Co-parenting would become complicated. The logistics would change.
The routine we’d built would fracture. Cohen had continued to be radio silent in the matter, and as much as I wanted his answer now, to just tell me where his head was at, he didn't owe me anything.
I wasn't his girlfriend; we weren't committed. And I told myself that made sense—this was his career, his decision, and I didn’t get a say in it. I hadn’t earned one.
But still…
I couldn’t help the way it stung. This decision was solely his, and I was just at the mercy of it. I felt completely out of control, which was a place I hated to be. I picked up my phone and texted Addison that I’d be in Primrose Hill tomorrow.
I needed horse therapy. I couldn't keep sitting in this.
Addison was out of town at a horse show with a few of her clients, leaving Mountain Laurel Farm wonderfully quiet. My parents were more than thrilled to spend some time with Ellie so I could ride.
After tacking up Bentley, I led him toward the mounting block.
I swung my leg over and settled into the saddle, peace settling over me almost instantly.
Being in a saddle grounded me in a way nothing else could.
I directed Bentley toward the trail that wound down to the river, cutting through Addison and Dean’s property.
I breathed in the cool winter air, the breeze sharp but refreshing.
When we reached the river, I loosened the reins and let Bentley graze.
I patted his silvery neck, running my fingers through his onyx mane as my thoughts drifted back to Cohen.
I thought again of how co-parenting would become complicated. How logistics would need to be figured out, and how we would have to establish a new routine. But that wasn't what was bothering me. I could handle all of that.
What I didn't think I could handle was losing him. Losing him laughing with Ellie, looking at her like she was the center of his universe. Losing the quiet, ordinary moments that had slowly become part of my life.
This didn’t feel like friendship.
Friendship wasn’t overwhelming and all-consuming. It wasn’t this constant awareness of someone, even when they weren’t there. The need to be around them all the time. This was something else.
Bentley lifted his head from the grass, flicking an ear back toward me, like he could feel the shift in my mood. He turned his neck, bumping his nose lightly against my boot, offering quiet comfort.
I exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand along his neck. "Thanks, bud."
The realization settled in slowly, heavy and undeniable. If Cohen left… it would break something in me.
Was that love?
I’d never been in love before. But I had also never felt anything like this. Boston was an incredible opportunity for him. A dream team. The kind of contract players waited their whole careers for.
And if I truly loved him…
Then I couldn’t be the reason he walked away from it, even if that meant watching him walk away from me.
I swallowed hard, tightening my grip on the reins.
Loving someone wasn’t supposed to feel like this… like choosing them meant losing them at the same time.