Crossing the line のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 89

Ethan’s POV The morning after the win didn’t feel triumphant. It felt… quiet. Not the empty kind. The kind that settles after something loud has passed through you and left its imprint behind. My body knew it too—legs heavy, shoulders sore, ribs still aching faintly from that elbow two games ago. I moved through my apartment on autopilot, coffee brewing, phone charging, sunlight spilling across the hardwood like it had nowhere better to be. Tyler was still asleep on the couch, one arm flung over his head, hoodie twisted halfway up his back. He’d crashed hard after the game, muttering something about cafeteria food and how I owed him breakfast. I smiled to myself and let him sleep. Practice wasn’t until late afternoon. Media availability had been light—thankfully—and Coach had texted a single line to the group chat: Recovery today. Be smart. So I did something I hadn’t done in weeks. I slowed down. I stretched. Took an ice bath I hated. Ate actual food instead of inhaling what

Ethan’s POVI woke up to the sound of the city breathing.Not traffic exactly—more like the low hum beneath it. The elevator somewhere down the hall. A car door slamming two streets over. The faint whistle of air moving through a cracked window. It took me a second to remember where I was, another to register the warmth pressed into my side.Ava.She was half-curled against me, hair loose and everywhere, one knee hooked over my thigh like she’d decided in her sleep that I was something worth anchoring to. The sheet had twisted itself into a useless ribbon at our waists. Her breathing was slow, even. Unguarded.I didn’t move.There was a specific kind of stillness you learn as an athlete—the kind you hold in the seconds before a free throw, before a snap, before impact. This was different. Softer. But it carried the same weight. If I shifted wrong, the moment might fracture.So I stayed.Last night replayed itself in pieces instead of a clean sequence. Not dramatic. Not cinematic. Just

Ethan’s POV By the time I woke up at Ava’s place, the apartment already felt familiar. Not in the dramatic way people talk about—no rush of realization, no internal monologue about crossing some invisible line. Just the quiet certainty of knowing where the bathroom light switch was. The sound her coffee maker made before it finished brewing. The fact that she always left the window cracked, even when the air outside was cold. It had been days since the first time I stayed over. Long enough for this to stop feeling like a novelty. Long enough for it to start feeling like something else entirely. Ava was already awake, sitting cross-legged at the small table by the window, laptop open, hair pulled back in a loose knot that meant she hadn’t thought too hard about it. She wore a sweater I recognized—not mine this time, but one I’d seen her in before—which somehow made the sight even more intimate. She glanced up when she heard me move. “Morning.” “Morning,” I said, voice still rou

Ava’s POVThe meeting didn’t feel like an ending when it began.It felt like every other moment that had ever carried the weight of The Chronicle careful, measured, edged with the kind of politeness that hid intent. My laptop sat open on the kitchen table, coffee cooling beside it, the morning light stretching across the floor like it had nowhere better to be.I did.That thought surprised me with its clarity. I had somewhere better to be now emotionally, mentally even if my body was still anchored to the same chair where I’d once agonized over emails like this. The room felt different. Less charged. Less like a battlefield and more like a place where decisions could exist without bruising me.I logged in three minutes early. Not because I was nervous but because I was done letting them control the tempo.Maya appeared first, her image crisp and grounded. She gave me a small nod, the kind that said I’ve got this, but you’re steering. Then the others joined. Two legal reps from The Chr

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 there was a pause I hadn’t felt in a long time. Not the kind that waited to be filled. The kind that existed on purpose.I dried my hands and turned.Ava was leaning against the counter, barefoot, arms folded loosely not defensive, just comfortable. Her hair had fallen out of its tie, soft around her face. She caught me looking and smiled, small but real.“What?” she asked.“Nothing,” I said. Then corrected myself. “Everything.”She rolled her eyes, affectionate. “That’s not an answer.”I crossed the space between us anyway, resting my hip against the counter beside her. Our shoulders touched. Easy. Familiar.“She seemed… very happy for you,” I said.“Lila?” Ava smiled wider. “She thrives on