Page 88 of Verdict

The thought. The intention. The time… all for me.

“That’s… incredible.” I kept adjusting the bracelet, staring at it, because I wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if I looked at her.

She sat closer. “I’m so glad you like it.” Her hand squeezed my thigh. The contact shot straight through me.

I stood too fast. “Walker’s going to be so jealous of this.” I cleared my throat. “More wine?”

She nodded, but I was already halfway to the kitchen.

I poured myself a heavy glass and took a long swallow. I needed a minute. I didn’t want her to see how much this meant. How much she meant. Today had been light and easy… the way it used to be. I didn’t want to tip it into something heavier. It wasn’t the place or time for that.

Before I sat back down, I grabbed a box from a drawer underneath the TV. I tried to keep it casual. “I didn’t realize we were exchanging gifts, so this doesn't really count… but I did get you something small. I uh… didn’t wrap it though." I rubbed the back of my neck nervously.

“We weren’t,” she said softly, tracing the rim of her glass. “I just had the idea. I didn’t expect anything, but gimme!” she teased, grabbing for it.

Ava lifted the lid and pulled out the framed photo. It was from the first game she’d brought Ellie to. Ava was leaning over the railing at the edge of the stands, her dark hair pulled into a loose braid spilling over one shoulder, smiling brightly down at me on the field. Ellie was settled in my arms, tiny fists gripping my jersey, her Aviators onesie stretched across her little back—my name printed there in bold letters. Ellie and I were smiling up at her mom like we already knew exactly who we belonged to, unaware that anyone was watching.

She glanced up at me with a large smile, emotion shimmered in her dark blue eyes. "I love it." She looked back down at the picture, running her fingertips across the frame. "Thank you," she added softly.

"The team photographer sent me the photo, and I had to give it to you… you two looked so… happy."

“Well… thank you. I love this picture so much."

I smiled. "You're welcome. Today’s been great. I haven’t had a family Christmas since my mom passed.”

The word slipped out before I could catch it. Family.

“I mean—Callie and I try to get together,” I added quickly. “But schedules don’t always match up.”

Ava’s expression softened. “Then I’m glad we got to spend it with you.” She exhaled slowly. Steeling herself. “I want you to know I really appreciate you, Cohen. Everything you’ve done for Ellie and me this past year. You’ve opened up to me. Let me see parts of you that most people don’t get to see. And I don’t feel like I’ve given you much of that in return.”

My pulse kicked up. Were we finally doing this?

I opened my mouth to speak, but she lifted a hand to stop me. “It’s my turn.”

I shook my head. “You don’t owe me that.”

“I know. But I want to.”

She took a sip of wine like she needed it for courage.

And then she told me.

She let down some of her walls and, for the first time, showed me what was on the other side. And fuck, did I want to be on the other side of that wall. To hold her, comfort her, and tell a younger Ava she was enough, just as she was. That she was the most incredible woman I'd ever met. She was smart, bold, talented, caring, beautiful inside and out.

But did I do that?

No.

Instead, I sat and listened as she told me how she'd never been someone's first choice. How she was always the almost. The good time. The placeholder. About how work and horses were the only places she'd ever felt chosen.

My chest ached for her. Because I had reinforced that fear. At Thanksgiving, in her parents’ foyer, when I’d chosen safety over her. When I’d told her I was there for Ellie.

When she finished, tears slid down her cheeks.

I reached out without thinking and brushed them away. She went still, and our eyes locked. The need to kiss her hit like a tidal wave. I cupped her jaw gently, searching her face. She glanced down at my mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed, granting me permission.

And I kissed her.