2. AVA

2

AVA

I was fifteen years old when I fell in love.

I could remember the day like it happened yesterday. That day had been so monumental in my life. I had been set to perform my first dance solo ever, and yet, my family wouldn't be there to witness it. My dad had been arrested, and my mom had gotten drunk.

I had been an afterthought.

I always had been.

But that day had been the day I fell in love.

After what he'd done, I'd decided that Tate Westwood was the man I was going to marry.

When I'd finished my solo set and spotted him in the crowd, my belly flipped. Then he smiled at me, and I was a goner.

But it wasn't that which did it for me. Sure, I'd been caught off guard seeing him there and overwhelmed by his willingness to sit through all the other performances just to see mine. It was what happened after I'd done the group performance and could leave that changed it all for me.

Tate didn't just drive me back home to deal with the chaos that was my parents. He took Ivy and me out to eat. My best friend had shared the truth with him about this solo performance being my first, and Tate reasoned we needed to celebrate it.

Maybe I shouldn't have thought too much about it. He was a Westwood. If there was an opportunity to celebrate something, they'd never miss it.

So, it didn't surprise me that Tate had decided on a late afternoon celebration. I was certain it was in his DNA to make something like that happen.

It was Tate sitting across from Ivy and me in that booth and listening intently as I poured my heart out about what happened with my parents that morning that did it for me.

He, along with his sister, took it all in—my fears, confusion, and heartbreak. And if there was one thing they did, it was to surround me with love and support.

Ivy had known about my life with my parents for as long as I could remember. Tate was getting the details for the first time. And it was safe to say I was embarrassed by all of it.

Because where my best friend and her brother had parents who loved and adored each other and their children, my parents never should have gotten together in the first place, let alone had me.

I didn't know if it had always been the way it was between them, but it was all I had ever seen. Dad often stayed out too late, and Mom bitched at him whenever he decided to stroll through the door.

They were always yelling, always arguing. And that day, it had been the worst. Because Dad had gone out the night before, and he hadn't returned home until well after the sun had come up. He had been drunk, and surprisingly, he'd been responsible enough not to drive himself home.

But Mom saw the car he got out of. Or, more specifically, she saw the woman driving the car he got out of, accused him of cheating, and started an argument.

It was chaos.

He continued to drink. She did the same. But because she refused to stop yelling at him, he eventually lost his cool and yelled back. Things got physical. And when the police arrived because a neighbor had called, my father was hauled off to jail.

And that was the day that I'd lost the little respect I had left for my parents. They knew how important dance was to me, and I'd nearly missed my recital. Fortunately, I had Ivy—and Tate.

Tate took us out for ice cream after we ate, insisting I deserved a special treat. I wondered if he knew what it meant to me. He had to know what he was doing.

I'd always loved Ivy and her family, but that day was when everything changed for me.

I was in love.

And I'd felt that way for nine years now.

Unfortunately, despite many years and relentless efforts on my part, nothing had gone like I planned. For a while, particularly at the start, I'd kept it tame. As attracted as I was to Tate, there was still something about him I found intimidating.

He was two years older than me, so that was likely part of it.

God, I could remember the time when I felt so shy around him. Tate had caught me staring at him several times over the next year or so. I'd immediately look away, and the first two or three times it happened, I couldn't bring myself to look back.

But eventually, I did.

And Tate had rewarded me with a smile. He'd even winked at me on two separate occasions. As a senior in high school then, those winks made me giddy.

The older I got, the timidness went away. I became far more confident, something that could have easily been the result of the continued years in dance. With that confidence, I took the flirting up a notch.

But every attempt had failed.

Maybe that was for the better. On some level, as much as it hurt to face that rejection time and time again—something Tate was never cruel about—the Westwoods were the only family I had.

Tate's family was the family I never had. His sisters were like my own. His brothers—Wyatt, Cooper, and Liam—treated me the same as they treated Ivy and Jules. And his parents—Malcolm and Evelyn—were the perfect representation of what a loving and healthy marriage was, what parents were supposed to be to their children.

I'd wanted to believe I could have it all. Why couldn't I have Tate the way I wanted him and have his family, too? Why couldn't they all be mine?

Unless he explicitly told me to stop, I'd continue to try. I'd continue to push the boundaries and do anything I could to find something that'd make him crack under the pressure.

Because it was there.

Sometimes, I saw it.

As much as he might have caught me staring at him in the beginning, he was the one getting caught in recent years.

So, I still had hope that there could be something special between us.

And today would likely be the last day I had for at least the next year to make something happen. It was the 4 th of July, and like they did on every special occasion, the Westwood family was celebrating.

We were all at Larry and Wendy's lake house. They were Malcolm's parents. I'd been attending these types of celebrations with this family for as long as I could remember. Those two had welcomed me with open arms just like the rest of the family had.

I was happy to be here. In two days, I'd be leaving. I was a professional dancer, and I was heading out on tour with one of the world's biggest pop stars.

I could think of no better way than to spend one of my last few days in Landing with the Westwoods.

While the boys in the family were busy playing a game of Ultimate Frisbee, I was happily enjoying the company of Tate's sisters, Wyatt's girlfriend, Rhea, and the woman we all knew was going to become Cooper's new lady, Skye. She was still unsure things were going to lead there.

Referring to Cooper, Ivy mumbled, "I've never seen him like this."

"Pardon?" Skye said.

"Don't get me wrong. Cooper is generally pleasant in situations not involving work, but he's different," Ivy explained.

She wasn't wrong. Cooper had sort of been dubbed the grump of the group, and I wasn't sure I'd seen him wipe the smile off his face the last two times I'd seen him with Skye. That's why I didn't hesitate to chime in. "Yeah, I agree. This is another level, if you ask me."

"I… Is it a bad thing?" Skye asked. Her worry was painfully obvious.

Ivy and I immediately shook our heads as Jules answered, "No. I think we're all just feeling a bit of shock. That's all. Trust me, this is wonderful."

Skye seemed to relax a touch, her eyes shifting toward Rhea for her input. "I'm with you, Skye. I've never seen the grumpy side of Cooper. He's always been nice to me. Then again, I've really only seen him in these types of situations."

"I get the feeling if Cooper hadn't met Skye, you would have eventually seen it," Ivy said. "You just haven't had enough time around him yet for it to come out."

Before Rhea could respond, our attention was pulled toward the open field where the guys were playing. They were firing insults and riling each other up.

"Well, I have been around Cooper enough to notice the competitive side to him," Skye declared. "That man doesn't like to lose."

"Ha! That's a Westwood trait," I informed her. "All the guys are like that."

I'd learned that years ago. Whether in a situation like this, or if they were playing board games, there was such a competitive spirit amongst them.

"Speaking from experience, I can confirm that's the truth," Rhea added. "Wyatt refused to be denied."

"Can I ask how you and Wyatt met?" Skye questioned her.

Before Rhea could respond, Jules declared, "Oh, boy. You better buckle up for this one."

The boys had finally started their game, so when a Frisbee went flying through the air, we all glanced back out at them. I wasn't too proud to admit my eyes lingered on Tate. I always used opportunities like this to allow my gaze to linger on him. Every time I did, though, I usually wound up feeling a mix of longing and disappointment.

I wanted to be able to call him mine, and as more and more time went on, I wondered if I was crazy to think it'd eventually happen.

Rhea laughed, pulling our attention back to her. "There's never a dull moment around here, that's for sure," she said. "Funny you should ask about how Wyatt and I met, Skye. I have an ice cream shop on my family's farm, and back in March, Wyatt walked in, looking to purchase part of our land for the amusement park expansion. I turned him down, and I thought he graciously accepted. But then he turned up at the spot I go running every morning, and I was convinced he was stalking me."

Surprise littered Skye's features. "Was he?"

Rhea shook her head, a bright smile on her face. "No. But I was stubborn and refused to believe him. We ran together without speaking to each other for quite a while before he wore me down."

"And if anything, it was almost as though Wyatt had taken a page out of Cooper's book for some time in the beginning there," Jules noted. "He's a determined guy, but Rhea wasn't making things easy for him."

God, if only that had been the case for me. Granted, I wouldn't have been as tough as Rhea. I wouldn't have kept Tate at a distance. If he showed even the slightest hint of wanting more from me, I'd grab hold of him and gobble it all up.

My eyes drifted back out toward the open field. Tate was shirtless and sweaty. Impeccable, just like his manners and his tidy home.

Something cold hit the center of my chest, but it wasn't an emotional reaction to anything. I glanced down and noticed my shirt was discolored, wet, and stuck to me. "Oh, shoot!" I cried out. I'd spilled my drink down the front of my shirt. Tate was so refined and in control, he would never. As I stood, I mumbled, "This is lovely. I'm going to go get this cleaned up. I'll be back."

"Do you want help? I can find another shirt for you," Ivy offered.

Shaking my head, I replied, "I think I have something in my car. I'll let you know if I don't."

I took off in the opposite direction and made my way to my car. After grabbing a shirt, I went inside and made a beeline for the bathroom. With my new shirt in one hand and the remnants of my drink in the other, I used my elbow to close the door behind me.

My plan had been to set everything down and go back to lock the door, but as soon as I caught sight of myself in the mirror, I stopped and sighed. "You've got to get yourself together, Ava."

Sometimes, I felt like a complete disaster. It matched the pattern of my life. My parents were the start of it for me, and the only thing I'd seemed to manage successfully was my career.

Tate had such a hold on me, my feelings for him constantly consuming me, and I wound up being unable to handle the sight of him shirtless while holding a drink in my hand.

I pulled the fabric of my shirt away from where it was stuck to me and slipped it over my head. Wanting to avoid having a permanent stain on the shirt, I began rinsing it out in the sink. After squeezing out the excess water, I moved toward the linen closet, found a washcloth, and returned to the sink. Enough of the drink had spilled and soaked through my shirt that my body was coated with the scent and stickiness of it.

Gathering my hands in my hair, I pulled it back from my face and up into a messy bun. No sooner had I doused the washcloth with warm water, squeezed it out, and lifted it to my chest, the bathroom door swung open.

My body twisted in that direction, my hand clutching the cloth at my chest.

"Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn't know you were in here."

Tate was there, and he immediately began to back out of the room, closing the door behind him.

While this wasn't what I'd had in mind, this was how I'd get my chance today. "Wait. No. Are you okay?" I asked, having barely noticed the blood on his hand before he stepped out.

Through the partially closed door, he insisted, "I'm okay. I was coming in to get this cleaned up, but I'll just run upstairs."

No.

I couldn't let him get away.

Moving toward the door, I placed my hand on the knob and pulled it open. My opposite hand had still been clutching the washcloth at my chest, but once my eyes connected with Tate's, I lowered it.

I wasn't shy about my body, and it wasn't like I was completely naked. Tate had seen me in a swimsuit many times, so seeing me in a bra now was no different. Of course, since I always hoped for the best whenever I knew I'd be around him, I wasn't wearing something unflattering. It was pretty, sexy.

Whether he wanted them to or not, Tate's eyes dropped to my chest, heat and desire swirling in his gaze.

I tried not to let myself read too much into it, even though warmth spread through me at his response. He was having a natural reaction in a situation like this. It was likely most single guys would have reacted the same. If only he would have done something about it.

Wanting to increase my chances of that happening. I reached for his hand, tugging him into the bathroom, and asked, "What happened?"

"Battle wounds from the game," he answered, his voice strained. "Really, it's okay, though. I can run upstairs."

I urged his hand toward the sink and ran it under the water to clean it. "Stay there. I'll get something to treat and cover the wound."

Digging through the drawers, I found the first aid kit. Then I grabbed a fresh cloth, took his hand out from beneath the running water, and dried it off. I held his hand up between us, his fingertips mere inches from my breasts. "Ava, you don't need to do this."

I lifted my gaze and noticed his other hand was squeezing the back of his neck. "Relax, Tate. I promise I'm not going to bite."

I winked at him and watched as the muscle in his jaw twitched.

Unable to stop it, my mouth quirked up with a satisfied smile. Sometimes, I wondered what I'd ever do if Tate ever reacted to my advances and gave us what we both clearly wanted. There was a part of me that would miss this tension between us. Being able to tease him like this had become a challenge that often left me feeling rewarded, even if he never took the bait.

Tate didn't say anything as I focused my attention on his hand again. I worked on getting him bandaged up in the tense silence, loving the feel of his hand in mine and the heat radiating from his body.

As I worked and attempted to come up with my next move, I noted how he'd dropped his other hand from behind his neck but was now clenching it in a fist at his side. My eyes shifted toward his abdomen, appreciating the sight of his six-pack.

Yep.

Maybe I still stood a chance.

Maybe, if I was lucky, I could make it happen now. Tate and I could then spend the next two days wrapped up in each other before I had to leave and head out on tour. We could take the next year communicating through naked video chats. We could have phone sex.

"Are you okay?" Tate asked.

"What?"

I looked back up at his handsome face, those blue eyes littered with concern. He gestured toward my chest with his chin and said, "You're breathing is shallow. What were you doing in here anyway? Why don't you have a shirt on?"

I raised a curious brow. "It's like you don't even know me," I said softly. His mouth set in a hard line, an indication he didn't like what I'd just said.

I wanted to take a moment to consider why that bothered him. If he didn't want me to say things like that, he could have proven his interest by acting upon whatever feelings he had for me. But since I didn't want this to turn sour by sharing that with him, I explained, "I spilled my drink on my shirt, and I came in here to change."

After he gave me a nod of understanding, I affixed two bandages to his hand. He noticed when I'd completed my task and said, "Thanks for doing this."

I smiled at him. "How does it feel?"

"Good."

I swallowed hard before licking my lips. "Are you sure?"

His eyes were burning with desire, and his voice was raspy when he answered, "Yes."

He wanted me. I knew he wanted me. So, I decided this was it. I was going to take my chance. With Tate's hand still in mine, I turned it slightly, took a step toward him, and placed his hand on my breast, my eyes never leaving his.

For a fleeting moment, his fingers twitched, like they were fighting every urge to squeeze.

Take it, I begged with my eyes. Do it.

Like he'd just been doused with ice cold water, Tate yanked his hand away. "Ava, no."

My brows scrunched together. "Why not?"

"It's not going to happen," he insisted.

My eyes roamed over his features, seeking answers. None of it made sense. "I'm leaving in two days," I reminded him.

"I know."

"I won't be back for a little over a year, and I'm offering myself up to you. Are you telling me you're not going to take what I'm offering?"

His jaw clenched, the battle he was waging evident. "That's exactly what I'm telling you."

"Because you don't want it? Because you're not attracted to me? I see the way you look at me, Tate. You can't tell me you don't want this."

Tate's face went blank, and for the first time ever, he showed me a side of him I'd never seen before. "I'm sorry, Ava, but I don't."

That was it.

Although his words were apologetic, his tone was final.

I didn't understand what held him back. I didn't get why he refused me time and time again. But standing in this bathroom now, hearing the way he said those six words, this time was different.

I blanched, feeling the color drain from my face, and took a step back. There was the faintest tremble of my lower lip. My stomach felt cold and hollow, like someone had punched me.

"If you," I croaked. "If you wouldn't mind stepping out, I'd appreciate it."

"Ava, I'm s?—"

"Please, Tate. If there's one thing on this earth that you can do for me, I'm begging you to walk out that door and leave me alone right now."

He didn't move.

I was going to break.

So, I snatched up my shirts, ran out of the bathroom, and dashed up the stairs. Once I slammed the bathroom door up there behind me and locked it, I slid down against it and allowed the tears to fall.

And by the time I pulled myself together and returned to the festivities, Tate had moved on like nothing happened.