tinny?
He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to see the understanding drop into place. They hadn’t talked all that much about Maddie. Oh, sure, he’d asked Ava to help him plan a proposal. But the couple times one or the other of them had brought it up, the topic always fizzled out before it went anywhere.
“Well, lucky for me you guys only have two paint rollers, so I’ll let you get back to work.” Raegan stopped in the doorway. “Oh, but first, just so you know, Shan bet me twenty dollars Seth wouldn’t make it all day without checking in at the restaurant. Ava, if you could make sure he stays up here, my bank account and I would appreciate it.”
“Done.”
Seth turned in time to see his cousin disappear, and then Ava’s ponytail swung behind her as she picked up her roller. “Back to work, I go.”
He watched her for a moment, mix of athleticism and grace in her movements. That was Ava, true to lithe form.
“Hey, Ave?”
She gave him a sidelong glance. “Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you’re here.”
She grinned, paused, and then in a flash of movement flicked paint at him. It landed on his shirt in a splotch of red.
“Real mature, Kingsley.” But he’d meant what he said. He really did like having her here. A ready-made best friend and confidante. Yeah, he had Bear. And Raegan and Case were great family to have around.
But Ava . . . she just got him. Behind all their arguing was a mutual, genuine respect. That and she was constantly amusing—whether she was trying to be or not.
“So have you thought any more about what you want to do next? Keep teaching, apply for coaching jobs elsewhere?” He’d felt so sorryfor her when she’d finally confessed to him, on her second day in town, that the coaching opportunity had fallen through.
She’d written it in an email, of all things, from the bedroom right across the hallway in Case’s house. Why they’d kept emailing each other when they saw each other every day, he had no idea. Chalk it up to habit.
“I don’t think a female coaching a college football team is going to go over any better at any other school. Might be time to let that dream die.” Ava put down her paint roller and turned to him. “And what’s bothering me most of all isn’t even letting go of the dream. It’s the fact that the idea of letting go actually makes me feel a little . . . relieved.”
He could hear the layer of guilt rustling under her words. Saw it reflected in the way she rubbed one hand over her opposite arm. Her telltale move, as he’d discovered.
“If a person has a dream, they’re supposed to go after it with all they’ve got, right? And even when it gets hard, they keep pushing. That’s what you did.” She dropped her hand. “You didn’t look for an easy out. When you were in the beginning stages of opening The Red Door, when you ran up against one closed door, you either barreled through it or looked around until you found a different open one. You made it happen.”
He lowered his own roller into the paint tray and nudged the thing away with his foot. “Maybe it’s a different situation, though.” He halted, weighing his next words. “I ran into a lot of roadblocks with the diner—that’s true. But whenever I’d pray about it, there’d be just enough peace and confidence and . . . I don’t know, a knowing, I guess, to convince me that moving forward was still the right thing. Sometimes it was just a sliver—like a crack in a door. But there was always that faint light showing through the crack. I knew it was the right dream.”
She reached around behind her head to fiddle with her ponytail, eventually loosening it so it rested at the nape of her neck. “You’re saying you think coaching a football team may not be the right dream for me?”
“I’m saying maybe you’re thinking it may not be the right dream. And maybe that’s why the thought of letting it go comes with a sense of relief.”
She angled
He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to see the understanding drop into place. They hadn’t talked all that much about Maddie. Oh, sure, he’d asked Ava to help him plan a proposal. But the couple times one or the other of them had brought it up, the topic always fizzled out before it went anywhere.
“Well, lucky for me you guys only have two paint rollers, so I’ll let you get back to work.” Raegan stopped in the doorway. “Oh, but first, just so you know, Shan bet me twenty dollars Seth wouldn’t make it all day without checking in at the restaurant. Ava, if you could make sure he stays up here, my bank account and I would appreciate it.”
“Done.”
Seth turned in time to see his cousin disappear, and then Ava’s ponytail swung behind her as she picked up her roller. “Back to work, I go.”
He watched her for a moment, mix of athleticism and grace in her movements. That was Ava, true to lithe form.
“Hey, Ave?”
She gave him a sidelong glance. “Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you’re here.”
She grinned, paused, and then in a flash of movement flicked paint at him. It landed on his shirt in a splotch of red.
“Real mature, Kingsley.” But he’d meant what he said. He really did like having her here. A ready-made best friend and confidante. Yeah, he had Bear. And Raegan and Case were great family to have around.
But Ava . . . she just got him. Behind all their arguing was a mutual, genuine respect. That and she was constantly amusing—whether she was trying to be or not.
“So have you thought any more about what you want to do next? Keep teaching, apply for coaching jobs elsewhere?” He’d felt so sorryfor her when she’d finally confessed to him, on her second day in town, that the coaching opportunity had fallen through.
She’d written it in an email, of all things, from the bedroom right across the hallway in Case’s house. Why they’d kept emailing each other when they saw each other every day, he had no idea. Chalk it up to habit.
“I don’t think a female coaching a college football team is going to go over any better at any other school. Might be time to let that dream die.” Ava put down her paint roller and turned to him. “And what’s bothering me most of all isn’t even letting go of the dream. It’s the fact that the idea of letting go actually makes me feel a little . . . relieved.”
He could hear the layer of guilt rustling under her words. Saw it reflected in the way she rubbed one hand over her opposite arm. Her telltale move, as he’d discovered.
“If a person has a dream, they’re supposed to go after it with all they’ve got, right? And even when it gets hard, they keep pushing. That’s what you did.” She dropped her hand. “You didn’t look for an easy out. When you were in the beginning stages of opening The Red Door, when you ran up against one closed door, you either barreled through it or looked around until you found a different open one. You made it happen.”
He lowered his own roller into the paint tray and nudged the thing away with his foot. “Maybe it’s a different situation, though.” He halted, weighing his next words. “I ran into a lot of roadblocks with the diner—that’s true. But whenever I’d pray about it, there’d be just enough peace and confidence and . . . I don’t know, a knowing, I guess, to convince me that moving forward was still the right thing. Sometimes it was just a sliver—like a crack in a door. But there was always that faint light showing through the crack. I knew it was the right dream.”
She reached around behind her head to fiddle with her ponytail, eventually loosening it so it rested at the nape of her neck. “You’re saying you think coaching a football team may not be the right dream for me?”
“I’m saying maybe you’re thinking it may not be the right dream. And maybe that’s why the thought of letting it go comes with a sense of relief.”
She angled
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