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I smile and shake my head. Goddamn. Sometimes, Thatcher Kelly really is a handful. Before I step into Ava’s parents’ house, I shoot him a text back, choosing to ignore the topic of Ava altogether.Me: Sorry I missed your texts. And try to go easy on Barry, will you? He really isn’t that bad when you get to know him.I’m surprised when I get two texts back in record time.Thatcher Kelly: You might as well give up on that pipe dream, Lucas. There is no way me and Dingle-Barry are ever going to get along.Thatcher Kelly: Yesterday, Wes and I were trying to watch the Mavericks game on the way home from LA, and Dingle-Barry made a fluffing announcement over the speakers to tell us to turn down the volume. Wes was so pissed, I thought he was going to murder him in the cockpit. No doubt about it, we’ll all be fluffing relieved when you’re back.
Apparently, Barry incites the same reaction in everyone—an instant dislike.
Truthfully, I think he’s a nice guy, maybe a little odd and stuffy and set in his ways, but a good guy, nonetheless.
Also, from here on out, a guy Thatch will probably be seeing a lot more of…
Obviously, there’s no need to break that news to him just yet. I’ll let him enjoy the holidays before I deliver that doozy.
When my post-run, heated skin starts to turn cool, I step out of the brisk morning air and back inside the Lucies’ house.
I’m pleased to find Ava standing in the kitchen alone, wearing a tank top and Santa Claus pajama pants. She clutches a fresh cup of hot cocoa in one hand and a buttercream-frosted snowman cookie in the other.
“Mornin’, Ace.”
She smiles around a mouthful of cookie. “How was the run?”
“Horrible,” I answer through a chuckle and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “I feel like I did a Michael Scott carbo-load.”
She snorts. “Yeah, that was a big meal last night.”
I eye her knowingly. “If that was last night’s dinner, what in the hell am I supposed to expect on Christmas?”
“Christmas and Christmas Eve.”
I tilt my head to the side.
“My dad makes his biggest meals on both of those days.”
His biggest meals? Pretty sure the only way those meals of his could get any bigger is if he buys a fucking crane and has food dropped in through the roof.
“Good God,” I mutter as I chuckle and take a sip of water. “I might have to buy an extra ticket for the plane ride home.”
“Whatever, Mr. Six-Pack Abs.” Ava rolls her pretty blue eyes. “Your metabolism can handle a little indulgence.”
I wink. “Speaking of my glorious abs, you want to help me?”
“Help you do what?”
“Finish my workout.”
Confused, she just stands there.
“C’mon, Ace,” I cajole and gesture for her to follow me into the living room. “Since I have to skip my weight workouts, I need a little extra resistance.”
Even though she still has no idea what I’m talking about, she sets down her cup of cocoa and follows me into the living room, the half-eaten cookie still held in her hand.
I get into a push-up position and flick my head toward my back. “Hop on.”
“Hop on?” She scrunches up her nose, staring down at me. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am,” I retort. “While I do push-ups, I want you to sit on my back. Normally, I do this with weights, but as you can see, I have no weights.”
Surprisingly, without any further argument, she climbs onto my back.
“Am I too heavy?” she asks, comically munching on that fucking cookie while I hold my body in a plank position.
“Nope,” I respond and begin my first circuit of push-ups.
“Ohh, Mr. Six-Pack Abs is just so strong!” she exclaims dramatically, and I laugh at her teasing.
Truthfully, I’m not acting like some tough guy. Ava is petite in stature. She always has been. Even the childhood pictures hanging throughout her parents’ home make it obvious that she’s always been a tiny person.
“Just eat your cookie, smartass, and enjoy the ride.”
She giggles at that and repositions herself, sitting cross-legged on my back, and I continue to move us up and down, counting each push-up silently in my head.
Once I hit one hundred, I stop and lie flat on the ground with Ava still perched on my back.
“You done?”
“Not yet,” I answer after a deep breath. “Two more sets.”
“Good Lord, are you training to be an astronaut or a freaking navy SEAL?”
I want to laugh at that, and I almost do, but my amusement is stifled when the realization that I still haven’t told her I’ve been accepted into the program hits me.
Fuck, you need to tell her. It’s starting to feel like I’m outright lying to her the longer I keep the news a secret. And lying to Ava just feels…wrong. Horrible. It’s the last thing I want to do.
