LOGIN“She’s the coach’s daughter. He’s the captain. Together, they’re breaking every rule.” Ava Reynolds has one rule—never let her life be defined by basketball. As the coach’s daughter, she’s spent years dodging whispers and expectations, determined to make her mark through journalism. But when her editor forces her to cover the university’s star team, Ava finds herself colliding with Ethan Cole—cocky, brilliant on the court, and infuriatingly impossible to ignore. Ethan lives for basketball. It’s his ticket out, his shot at protecting the only family he has left—his younger brother. The last thing he needs is a sharp-tongued reporter questioning his every move, especially when she sees more than he wants anyone to. What starts as a battle of words spirals into undeniable chemistry, leaving Ava torn between loyalty to her father and the pull of a boy who breaks every rule she set for herself. But when a secret threatens to ruin them both…will crossing the line cost them everything?
View MoreAva’s POV Lila chose the café. She always did. Small. Intentional. Quiet enough to talk without lowering your voice but loud enough that no one could overhear you if they tried. Brick walls. Real plants. Coffee strong enough to feel medicinal. She was already seated when I walked in, laptop closed in front of her, tea untouched. Her eyes lifted once. Then narrowed slightly. “You saw the doctor,” she said. It wasn’t a question. I slid into the seat across from her. “Yes.” “And?” There was no dramatic lean-in. No squeal. No anticipatory grin. Just assessment. I set the ultrasound envelope on the table between us. Her gaze dropped to it. She didn’t reach for it immediately. “How far?” she asked. “Six weeks. A few days.” She nodded once. “And?” “There’s a heartbeat.” That made her inhale. Subtle. Controlled. “Okay,” she said. Not congratulations. Not oh my God. Just okay. The waiter came. I ordered tea I didn’t really want. She waite
Ethan’s POV The apartment felt smaller when we walked in. Nothing had changed. Same couch wedged too close to the window. Same narrow hallway. Same scuff mark from the night we moved the bookshelf without measuring. But it felt different. Maybe it was the ultrasound envelope in Ava’s hand. Maybe it was the sound still lodged in my chest. A heartbeat at 110 beats per minute. I locked the door behind us. Ava slipped off her shoes slowly, like gravity had shifted while we were gone. She didn’t look fragile. Just recalibrated. “You should lie down,” I said. “I’m not sick.” “I know.” She went to the kitchen instead. Opened the fridge. Moved normally. I stood there and took inventory. Not consciously at first. It was instinct. Corners. Angles. Space between furniture. Obstacles. The living room had always felt open enough for two people who spent half their lives outside it. Now it felt exposed. Where would anything go? I didn’t say it. I walked down the hallway instead. T
Ava’s POV The waiting room was brighter than I expected. Not warm bright. Clinical bright. Fluorescent lights that made every surface look sharper than it needed to be. The walls were painted a soft neutral that was probably meant to feel calming, but under the lights it felt almost gray. Normal. Impersonal. I liked that it was impersonal. It made this feel less like something happening to me and more like something being processed. Ethan checked us in at the front desk while I filled out forms on a clipboard that was slightly cracked along the edge. Medical history. Family history. Allergies. Previous surgeries. Date of last menstrual period. I wrote it down carefully. There was something about seeing it translated into numbers that felt steadier than emotions. Weeks. Days. Measurements. “Are you okay?” Ethan asked quietly when he sat back down beside me. “I am fine,” I said automatically. He studied me. The panic I felt the first night had shifted into something else.
Ava’s POVI did not sleep much the night before dinner.Not because Ethan was restless. He slept deeply, one arm heavy across my waist like he was afraid I might disappear between breaths.I did not sleep because I kept replaying how to say it.We had decided that morning.Not to tell everyone.Not to post anything.Not to widen the circle.Just my dad.He had texted earlier in the week about dinner, a casual check in that felt ordinary at the time.Now it felt like a threshold.“You do not have to do this yet,” Ethan had said while tying his shoes.“I know,” I replied.But I wanted to.If this was real, if this was happening, I did not want to hide it from the man who had raised me to face things head on.Still, as I stood in front of the mirror that evening, adjusting a sweater that suddenly felt tighter even though nothing had changed, I felt twelve again.“Breathe,” Ethan said softly behind me.I met his eyes in the reflection.“I am breathing.”“Not like that.”He stepped closer,
Ethan’s POV The days after the noise didn’t arrive with fanfare. They arrived quietly, stacking on top of each other like proof. Morning routines settled into something resembling permanence. Coffee brewed the same way. Shoes landed by the door without being kicked aside. Ava started leaving he
Ethan’s POVThe apartment felt different after Lila left.Not quieter settled.I stood at the sink longer than necessary, rinsing champagne flutes that were already clean, listening to Ava move around behind me. The city outside hummed the way it always did, traffic a constant low note, but inside
Ava’s POV I didn’t cry right away. That surprised me later, when people asked how it felt, when they expected tears first expected me to say I knew immediately, or that my knees went weak, or that the world tilted. What I felt instead was stillness. The kind that settles after something long an
Ava’s POV The thing about starting over is that it doesn’t announce itself. There’s no clean line between before and after. No moment where the weight lifts all at once. It happens quietly, in increments—small enough that you don’t notice until you realize you’re standing straighter than you used


















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