27. Cohen
Cohen
Iwas struggling.
I had two days left to give Boston an answer, and my head was a mess.
The Aviators couldn’t match Boston’s offer—I’d never expected them to—but their counter was still strong.
I hadn’t spoken to Ava about it, even though I knew she’d drafted the term sheet herself.
The truth was, I needed time to think without outside influence.
This was the final contract of my career. And the weight of that decision sat heavy on my shoulders.
Luckily for my sanity, Walker was in town. He’d just announced he was coming back to the Aviators as a pitching coach.
I took the elevator up to his penthouse, then made my way through his foyer and into the kitchen. He was already sitting at the counter with a beer in hand. He slid another bottle across the island toward me.
“Thanks. I need this.” I took a long pull and flashed him a grateful smile.
Walker nodded. “I know. I heard about Boston. Figured that’s why you’re here.”
I settled onto the barstool beside him. “I don’t know what to do, man.”
Walker went quiet, spinning the bottle between his fingers. “Well, Coh,” he said finally. “Logically speaking, Boston’s a no-brainer. Career-wise. Money-wise.” His eyes lifted to mine. “But somehow I get the feeling that’s not what this is about anymore.”
I glanced at him—and a memory from almost a decade ago hit me like a freight train.
Eighteen-year-old Ava sat on that exact stool, wearing Walker’s jersey, a slice of pizza in one hand, and mischief shining in those dark blue eyes.
She took my breath away the moment my eyes landed on her.
I tried to stay away that night but failed miserably.
I hung on every word that came out of her mouth.
Ava was smart, confident, an absolute force.
Everything about her pulled me in.
Walker wasn't an idiot; he picked up on it immediately. I still remember the threats and warnings he threw at me the following day. Luckily for me—and probably for my survival—Ava left for the West Coast not long after.
I hadn’t let myself think about that night in a long time.
"Cohen." Walker's voice broke me from the memory.
I shook my head, running a hand through my hair. "Sorry."
“Where’d you go?”
“About ten years back,” I muttered.
Walker studied me for a beat.
“Yeah,” I continued. “Things are different now. I have a daughter.” I shrugged. “Makes everything more complicated.”
But this wasn’t about Ellie, and I was pretty sure Walker knew that.
He chuckled softly, like he could see straight through my bullshit. “You’re really good at convincing yourself you don’t want things,” he said. “You know that?”
My eyes snapped to his, brows knitting together. “What does that mean?”
Walker’s gaze dropped to the beer bottle in his hand.
He ran a thumb through the condensation as it dripped down the side.
“I lost nine years with Farrah,” he said quietly.
“Nine fucking years.” He let out a rough breath.
“Yeah, she broke up with me. But I didn’t fight for her.
I was hurt she left when I needed her most, so instead I stepped aside.
Because that's what she wanted, because I thought it was probably for the best.” His jaw tightened.
“Then, when the opportunity came back around four years after that… I let fear win again.”
He looked up at me.
“We all want to be loved, Cohen. We all want to belong. Be part of a family.” His voice softened.
“You didn’t stop wanting that.” He paused.
“You just convinced yourself you couldn’t have it.
That you couldn’t handle it.” Walker leaned back slightly, his eyes locked on me.
“If you don’t fully choose her… you don’t fully lose her. Am I right?”
I felt exposed. Like Walker had just stripped back every layer and saw straight to my core. I remained silent, unable to form the right words, so he continued.
"Don't let the fear of losing someone stop you from loving someone." He stood, laid a hand on my shoulder, and gave it a quick squeeze. "And trying to control everything, Coh… it's just a way to manage fear, not avoid pain."
I sat in his words, watching as he rounded the counter toward the fridge and pulled it open.
Love.
Did I love Ava?
And was that what I was doing? Trying to control my life in a way that I thought would prevent pain?
I didn't get much sleep that night. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling as I replayed Walker's words over and over in my head. I had to give my decision to Boston in two days.
Memories of Ava were all I could see.
I thought back to the night at the club after we had won the World Series.
Music had thumped loudly, the floors sticky beneath my shoes, bodies pressed together so tightly it was hard to move.
I had barely stepped inside when Ava dragged me to the dance floor.
The second she’d wrapped her arms around my neck, everything else had faded away.
It was just us. Her body pressed against mine, warm and familiar.
Her laugh loud in my ear as she tipped her head back.
The colored lights flashing across her face, catching in those blue eyes.
The smell of alcohol, sweat, and cheap cologne in the air.
We were magnets, instantly drawn to each other whenever we were in the same room.
It had always been like that between us.
I remembered the weekend we’d driven to tell Walker that she was pregnant.
I could still picture the look on his face when Ava said the words.
First shock, then anger. Farrah pushing him off of me.
Ava standing there with her chin lifted, refusing to back down from her brother.
The way she’d defended me and taken the blame.
That was the moment I’d realized she wasn’t just letting me be part of this, she was choosing me to be part of this.
My mind shifted back to when Ellie was born.
Ava holding our daughter, after hours of labor, utterly wrecked, and I had never found her more beautiful.
The quiet nights when Ellie was a newborn.
The house dark except for the soft light from the lamp in Ellie's room, both of us half asleep while I sat with Ava as she breastfed at three in the morning.
Her hair pulled into a messy knot, exhaustion written all over her face, while we talked about absolutely nothing just to stay awake.
The way we always moved as a unit when it came to Ellie, how naturally we found our rhythm.
Ava was an incredible mother.
The memory of the first time Ellie got sick came to mind next, how she’d trusted me to step in.
She’d leaned on me, and I’d opened up to her in a way I never had with anyone.
She’d been lying with her head in my lap, falling asleep, as I’d run my fingertips through her long dark waves, watching my favorite movie together.
How I wished I could have stayed in that moment forever.
The way she was comfortably and unapologetically herself around me.
I thought back to us together on horseback.
How patient she’d been, teaching me how to handle a horse while her brother just gave me shit.
The leather saddle creaking under me, the smell of dirt and cedar in the air, Ava riding ahead of me like she’d been born in that saddle.
Completely at ease. Completely in control.
She’d turned in the saddle once to check on me, smiling when she saw I hadn’t fallen off yet.
I remembered thinking that if she’d asked me to get on that horse again tomorrow… I would have.
My mind then drifted to Thanksgiving with the James family.
All the words I’d left unsaid. Too many people talking at once, plates being passed across the table, Weston and Walker arguing while Ava laughed beside me.
It was loud. Chaotic. The way her mom had hugged me that day.
They weren’t my family…and somehow, I’d never felt like I belonged more.
Our first Christmas together. Ellie's little hands shredding paper, her eyes lit with excitement at the twinkling lights on the tree. Easy conversation over the steak dinner I’d made for us.
Ava's shy expression when she’d handed me the gift she’d had made for me—I trailed my fingers over the soft braided leather on my wrist. The look on her face and the tears she’d held back when she saw the picture I had framed for her.
The way she’d finally opened up to me and let me truly see her that night.
Walker’s words kept echoing in my head.
Don’t let the fear of losing someone stop you from loving someone.
I had spent most of my life convincing myself that control was the same thing as security.
If I didn't let anyone in, I'd never get hurt.
If I made the right decisions at the right time, then nothing could catch me off guard.
Nothing could hurt me again. Baseball had always been my safe space.
It was controlled, predictable in a way.
You controlled your training, your preparation, your routine. Everything else was just noise.
But life didn’t work that way—and I was beginning to learn that.
Because no matter how carefully I tried to plan things, it seemed the most important parts of my life, the things that meant the most, hadn't been planned.
Ava hadn’t been planned.
One night over pizza at Walker’s penthouse had turned into almost ten years of her somehow orbiting my life. She’d been there the whole time—dormant in the back of my mind until the night of the World Series win.
Ellie definitely hadn’t been planned.
Yet the moment I’d held her for the first time, it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like she was always meant to be my daughter.
Boston was the smart decision. Five years.
One hundred and thirty-five million dollars.
A full no-trade clause. A championship-caliber roster.
Everything a player was supposed to want at this stage of his career.
If I signed there, my legacy would be secured.
No one would question the decision. But as I stared up at the ceiling, trying to picture what that life actually looked like, something about it felt off.
I imagined packing up my place in Austin. Loading my life into boxes and starting over in a city where I didn’t know a soul. A new clubhouse and teammates. A new routine. It should have felt exciting. Instead, it felt empty.
Because when I pictured that life, the one thing missing from it was the only thing that seemed to matter.
Ava.
Late nights taking care of a sick child together.
More trail rides I had no business being on.
Loud dinners with the James family, where everyone talked over each other, and somehow it still worked.
Ava sitting across from me at the counter, rolling her eyes at something ridiculous I said.
Ellie growing up. All of her firsts I could potentially miss.
Her first steps. Her first words. Her first day of school.
I would still see her, of course. We would make it work, we had the resources—private jets, flexible schedules, and long weekends.
But it wouldn’t be the same. I would still miss things.
Little things that probably didn’t seem important to anyone else, but they mattered to me.
And then I realized. Boston may have seemed like the smart decision, but it wasn’t safety; it was distance. It was control. Distance from the life that had slowly taken root here. Distance from the woman who had somehow become the center of it.
And maybe the real reason I hadn’t talked to Ava about the contract yet was because I already knew what I wanted… I just hadn’t been ready to admit it out loud.
Drake's words resurfaced.
Choose the life you actually want to live. Not the one that looks best on paper.
He was right. It wasn’t about what contract made the most sense. It was about the life I actually wanted to live.
I shifted to my side, shoving my pillow underneath my head.
My eyes found the framed picture sitting on my nightstand.
The picture I had given Ava for Christmas of the three of us, because obviously I had my own copy.
The way we were looking at each other said it all, completely in our own world, wrapped up in each other. And the only word that came to mind?
Family.
The truth settled in fast and without question.
I loved Ava.
Somewhere between pizza ten years ago at Walker's penthouse and a newborn crying at three in the morning, it had happened.
I loved her.
Ava and Ellie were my family.
I knew what my decision was. Despite the late hour, I grabbed my phone and called Scott.