Page 74 of Verdict

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.