Page 126 of On the Breakaway

“By the skin of our teeth. Having Nathan back for the past couple of games got us over the finish line. Hopefully, we can just keep it up throughout the playoffs.”

“You will.”

We fall into an easy rhythm after that. Small things. Season talk. Travel. The conversation doesn’t lull once as Boston slides past the windows in that quiet weekend-afternoon way where everything feels slower than it actually is.

It’s one of the first times that we’ve let each other be like this, actually talking instead of trying to deny whatever force keeps pushing us back together.

I’m aware of her beside me the entire time. Every small shift. Every glance out the window.

In what feels like no time at all, I turn into the parking area and kill the engine. I watch her reaction as she climbs out of the car, wondering if I picked the absolute worst date place ever.

We’re at the Boston Public Garden.

At first, she just sits there. I’m tempted to pretend it was a joke and throw her back in the car, driving to a restaurant like a normal person would’ve done in the first place.

“You brought me to a park,” she says finally.

“It’s not just a park,” I correct as I round the front of the car. “It’s a good park.”

She huffs a laugh and shakes her head, but when she turns toward me, her shoulders relax.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “This is… actually kind of nice.”

I join her on the sidewalk.

“Casual enough for you?” I ask.

She glances at me and then at the path ahead.

“Yeah,” she says. “Annoyingly so.”

And that’s how I know that ditching the fancy dinner and scheduled plan was exactly the right call.

It takes less than a mile of walking before I’m wondering where the hell this woman has been the past four months. One second she’s ranting on about something ridiculous, and the next she’s wandering beside me through the park, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, content to let the silence settle between us.

The paths wind beneath towering trees, the late afternoon sun filtering through the branches and casting long shadows across the pavement as we make our way deeper through the garden.

We pass an old man trying to take a selfie while failing miserably, and it makes Avery stop immediately.

“Here, I can help.” She pulls the phone out of his hand as if they already know each other.

“My daughter wants proof that I’m out and about, but this damn camera won’t work.”

She smiles at him. “Sounds like she cares a lot about you.”

“Yeah, well, she’s quite the mother hen these days.”

“There are worse things.” She shrugs, holding the camera up. “Now, say cheese.”

I stand off to the side, watching Avery coax an actual smile out of him before handing back the phone. By the time we walk away, he’s laughing behind us.

“That was nice of you.”

“I am nice.”

I chuckle. “Maybe to most people, I’m just not usually there to see it.”

She scrunches her eyebrows. “Well, I am.”