“It’s your birthday. You shouldn’t have to.” I grin. “Besides, I love spoiling you.”
She opens her mouth, and I slide the fork in. The moment the cake hits her tongue, her eyes roll back in her head.
“Oh my god. This is divine.” She swallows, and her face softens. “Is this one of your mother’s recipes?”
“No.” I shake my head and slice off another bite. “She made a lot of cakes, but never strawberry. Not that I can remember, anyway.”
Probably because chocolate was my favorite. She had a half-dozen chocolate cake recipes, each one with a special twist.
Ava’s brows knit together. “Then where did you get the recipe? There’s no way this came from a baking mix.”
Smart woman. I’d chew off my right arm before I’d serve her a boxed cake mix on her birthday.
Scratch baking is personal. It’s about more than flavors and textures. It’s about the effort that goes into nourishing the people you care about.
“The recipe is actually one of my own.” I raise the fork, and she opens her mouth. “It took a few tries to get it right, but it was worth it just to see the smile on your face.”
What I don’t tell her is that McGinnis has been riding my ass about it all week, peppering me with a thousand stupid questions because he has to know every damn thing.
The rookie and I have been getting along much better since we started playing on the same line, but he still has his moments.
“That’s—thank you. No one has ever done anything like that for me before.” Unshed tears glisten in Ava’s eyes. “How can you possibly be single when you’re so freaking perfect? Surely you’ve had at least one long-term relationship.”
I shift uncomfortably. This isn’t really something I want to talk about, especially on her birthday, but I can’t lie to her. I set the plate in my lap and take her hand.
“I did have one long-term relationship. It lasted about two years.” I swallow, hating that she may think less of me once she hears this story. “Lana and I met through a mutual friend, and for a long time, we were good, but she didn’t understand my lucky charm. She thought I was obsessed with your picture, and she was jealous. It didn’t matter that I had no idea who you were or that we only spent one night together. Hell, that probably made it worse.” Shame heats my cheeks. “I can’t blame her. Hockey superstitions are hard to explain to outsiders, butnow, in retrospect, I can see that she was right. My heart was elsewhere, and that wasn’t fair to her.”
Ava strokes my knuckles with her thumb, encouraging me to continue.
“At the time, I thought she might be the one, but things between us were never quite right. They weren’t as easy as I thought they should be.” I meet Ava’s gaze. “They weren’t as easy as what I have with you.”
She pulls back, burying her face in her hands. “Oh god. I’m the worst.”
What? No. I move the cake to the nightstand and drag her hands from her face. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you’re sitting here spilling your guts, and you’re basically the perfect man—a walking green flag—and not only did I ruin your last relationship, I’m also making you lie to your mentor. I’d say that’s pretty sucky.”
If that’s truly how she feels, I’m fucking this up—big time.
So fix it, dumbass.
“First of all, you didn’t ruin my relationship with Lana. I did that all on my own. Second, you’re not making me do anything. I’m a grown man, Ava. I have agency.” I scrub a hand over my face. “But you’re right. It sucks.”
Big time.
“I’m sorry,” Ava says, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to bring all of this up, but it’s been eating at me. Things with Adam are getting better and it’s like I’m walking around with this giant secret and I don’t want to tell him because it will ruin everything, but at the same time, keeping it from him is killing me because I’m a lying liar.” She grimaces. “I can only imagine how it makes you feel.”
“It’s…not great.”
Understatement. It fucking blows. I’ve always tried to be honest with the people in my life, and as far as I’m concerned, a lie by omission is still a lie.
Ava drops her chin into her hand. “Some mental performance coach I am. I’m supposed to help athletes get out of their heads, yet I’m stuck in mine.”
“Hey, this isn’t a reflection of your ability to do your job.” I squeeze her knee through the sheet. “You’re a great coach, but something’s got to give. We can’t keep going like this.” I take both of her hands in mine. “Can you honestly tell me that you’re going to be able to walk away from me—from us—at the end of the season?”
She bites her lip. “I…don’t know.”
The admission stings, but she’s scared. Hell, I am too. But like I said, something had to give. If it’s me, so be it. Maybe I just need to take a leap of faith and show her that I’m not going to back down or change my mind. Show her that I’m all in—with her.