“How what will be?”
She sighs. “You pouting and stomping around, letting what happened turn you into this . . . this ogre.Youhiredme, but I’m not sure it’s worth it if you can’t even stand to look at me.”
I sling the bag over my shoulder and do my best not to stomp across the room. Wouldn’t want to prove her right. Our faces are close when I stop. Too close. Her warm breath brushes over my lips. Her body is a mere tug away from pressing against mine. I ignore it all.
“I’m here to do a job, not worry about your disapproval of my personality.”
“This isn’t you.”
“Afraid it is. Sorry to disappoint.”
“Liar.” Ava holds my stare with the same ferocity that used to knock me off my feet. “I think if we’re going to do this, we should meet. Maybe work out some . . . some things that happened. Closure, you know?”
A thousand curses rage in my head. Her voice is so sweet, and beneath it all is something like a plea. I understand the desperation, but I can’t do it. There is no surviving it if I break the barrier and let her back in only to disappoint and lose her again later.
Ava lets out a little gasp when I draw closer, hovering my lips over hers. Crossing into personal space was never a problem with Ava. Truth be told, growing too comfortable stepping over the line too oftenbecameour problem.
“That might be helpful if I needed closure on anything.” I’m tossing out rusty knives with every word. “But I don’t. Nothing in the past impacts my present. None of it matters.”
A splotchy red rash blooms up Ava’s neck and my heart breaks. That was one of her signals when she was trying not to cry. If she’s trying not to cry, it means she either wants to murder me, or I’ve slashed up her heart good and thorough.
“Noneof it matters?” She shakes her head. “Got it. Message delivered, loud and clear.”
I’m an idiot. “Ava—”
She’s already gone.
I slam my palm against the wall and lean my forehead against the cool cinderblocks. Why did I say that? Out of anything I could’ve—out of anything I should’ve said—why did I cut her where it would hurt?
I close my eyes. For years I’ve convinced myself I’d let go of the Williams twins. I’d let go of Ava. That lie fell apart the second I saw her last week. I’ve never let her go. No, instead, I’ve built a barbed, poisonous wall around this thing in my chest, desperate to keep everyone else at a safe distance because Icouldn’tlet her go.
People say you always remember your first love, but no one talks about what happens when you don’t only remember your first, you cling to them because they still hold your heart.
But they’re not yours anymore.
Fear of losing another Drake, or another Ava has kept me pushing back against those who want to get closer. My teammates accept me, and I’ve unfairly pushed back. They don’t know the reason, but if Ava Williams is back with her beautiful whirlwind, I’ve no doubt they’ll see more than I want them to soon enough.
“Hey, kid.”
I jump. Jack Williams leans against the doorway.
Seeing Jack isn’t as shocking as seeing Ava. In truth, I’ve seen Jack more than once over the years. Hard to cut ties completely when Jack and Marianne remain close friends with my parents. I also know Jack attends the games. We keep it quick, shallow, never bringing up his kids or the past, but today feels different.
He always had a certain look in his eyes when he meant business.
“Mr. Williams.”
“Oh come on, Ryder,” he says.
“Sorry.” I hold up a hand, almost smiling. “Jack.”
“So.” He steps into the room, looking around. “You still love being some hot shot famous guy?”
I chuckle. Reluctantly. “Not sure about the famous part—”
“You have posters and baseball cards. That’s famous in my book.”
I sit on one of the benches in the center of the room. “I love the game still. Not so much everyone trying to get in my business, but I’ve gotten pretty good at hiding in my house.”
