Page 64 of Verdict

“Nah,” I said evenly. “We’re not together.” The words burned like acid on my tongue.

His posture loosened almost immediately. “Oh. Okay. Good.” He hesitated, then went for it. “She single?”

That question pissed me off more than it should’ve.

I stepped past him, jaw tight. “I don’t know,” I threw over my shoulder. “You’d have to ask her.”

And for reasons I didn’t want to examine too closely, I hoped she'd tell him no.

Callie was in town to catch one of my playoff games. We’d just gotten back from the stadium—she was still riding the high of it, talking a mile a minute the entire drive home while I tried to come down from the adrenaline. She’d kicked off her shoes, raided my pantry, and taken over my couch within minutes.

She was all curled up underneath a blanket with a strawberry Pop-Tart in hand like she was twelve instead of twenty-nine.

“That new pitcher y’all picked up is pretty awesome,” she said around a mouthful of processed pastry.

Fuck that guy.

I sank onto the couch beside her, running a hand through my hair. “He’s all right,” I said flatly.

Callie scoffed. “All right? He struck out one of the best hitters in the league tonight. What game were you watching?” She took another aggressive bite of her sugar bomb.

I ignored her and grabbed the remote, flipping through the newest releases on Netflix.

She shoved my shoulder. “What’s up with you tonight? You’re quiet. Which is weird since you played a great game.”

I stayed silent.

She lunged for the remote and somehow managed to kick my shoulder in the process. “COHEN JORDAN. ANSWER ME. NOW.”

I rolled my eyes and exhaled heavily, yanking the remote back. “Fine.” I clicked on some random murder documentary and tossed the remote onto the coffee table. “I saw Hudson flirting with Ava the other day. And she… didn’t seem to mind.”

Callie nodded slowly. “Ah. I had a feeling this had something to do with Ava.”

“I don’t know why it bothers me,” I muttered. “I don’t want a relationship. We're finally friends again, and we’ve got a good thing going. I'm not trying to mess that up. Especially for Ellie.” I said it like I was trying to convince myself. “He wants to ask her out,” I added quietly, picking at an invisible piece of lint on my shorts.

Callie inhaled slowly. “Cohen, you can’t—”

But her voice faded as memories of Primrose Hill flooded my head.

Watching Ava ride—confident, controlled, completely in her element. The way she seemed to glow from the inside out. The bar with her family. The easy laughter. The way I slipped into the rhythm of them, like I’d always been there. Her cheeks flushed from one too many beers.

My mind drifted back to her parents’ house. That night. The quiet hallway. The creak of old hardwood beneath my feet as I padded toward her room. My ear pressed against her door.

I’d stood there longer than I wanted to admit.

Hand lifted… ready to knock.

Ready to… what?

Fuck up everything we’d just gotten back?

I dropped my hand.

She didn’t want me like that and I wasn’t even sure I could be that. We were just friends. We needed to be just friends.

I turned around and walked back to my room. Lying there staring at the ceiling like an idiot.

And I swear to God…