“I did!” Ava yelled back, pumping her fist. “My mom was awesome!”
A few minutes later, the locker room door opened.
Eleanor came out, moving a little stiff, like every muscle was making itself known, but she was smiling so wide it made my chest ache.
“There she is, ladies and gentlemen—Slayerella!” Leo called out, cupping his hands around his mouth like a real announcer.
Ava was already on her feet, darting past me to throw her arms around Eleanor. Pride lit her whole face, bright and unguarded in a way that made my chest tighten.
Mel followed close behind, laughing as she caught up to them. “Wins call for ice cream,” she declared, ruffling Leo’s hair.
“Can we have ice cream too?” Ava asked, looking up at her mom.
“Of course,” Eleanor said without hesitation.
And just like that, the five of us, sweaty and laughing, spilled out into the parking lot together, headed for ice cream and whatever came next.
49
ELEANOR
Later that night, I was sprawled on Alex’s couch, sore in that deep, satisfying way that meant I’d done something real with my body. My legs were a map of bruises, and Alex sat at my feet, rubbing gentle circles into my arches like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Tonight was perfect. I mean,” I amended softly, “after all the stuff with my mom . . . tonight was perfect.”
He arched an eyebrow at me, a little smile tugging at his mouth. His hands kept moving, easing out the ache, and I let myself melt into the cushions. “What do you want to do about that?” he asked carefully.
I sighed, staring at the ceiling. “I think I want to move next door. I need to get some furniture, but most of my stuff is still in my mom’s basement. I just . . . I can’t do that house anymore. Not for me. Not for Ava.”
“That sounds great,” Alex said with a smile. “I know a bunch of people who will help you move.”
The way he said it like it was already decided, like we were already a team, made something warm settle in my chest.
“I need to talk to my mom,” I admitted. “I don’t want to, but I think I need to. Maybe tomorrow we can . . . ” I trailed off, suddenly unsure.
“Tomorrow . . . ?” he prompted gently.
“Would you come with me,” I asked quietly, “and help us get our stuff while I talk to her?”
“Of course,” he said, without hesitation. Not even a pause. Just certainty.
And that simple, easy answer made me feel safer than anything had in a long time.
This time, it was his turn to look suddenly unsure.
“So . . . when you were running into the locker room tonight,” he said carefully, “you said something.”
I looked at him, waiting.
He took a deep breath. “You said you love me. I don’t know if you meant it or if it was just a heat-of-the-moment thing, but I just . . . I wanted you to know I feel the same way.”
The air left my lungs.
“I love you, Eleanor,” he said.
A wave of emotion crashed through me, so strong it made my eyes sting. He loved me. This gentle, steady man who kept showing up, who had come for me when everything fell apart.
I reached up, fingers threading into his scruff, cupping his jaw.
