Page 81 of Curveball

I squeezed them one more time before I got yanked away for the MVP trophy.

What a fucking way to go out.

Hadley went home with Farrah’s parents so we could celebrate with the team—after we showered the champagne off, obviously.

We had a private section roped off at the club, and somehow a few of our siblings tagged along—Aria, Ava, Nate, Nolan—because of course they did. Music thumped. Drinks were flowing, and everyone was loud, happy, and slightly unhinged.

I was having a great time until I looked across the dance floor and saw them—

Ava and Cohen.

Too close.

Too comfortable.

That one night at my apartment years ago flashed through my mind like a warning flare. I shot up. Farrah glanced at me like I’d lost my mind, until she followed my stare. She grabbed my arm and laughed. “Oh my God. Leave them alone, Ace.”

“Nope.” I cut straight through the crowd and planted myself between them, shoving Cohen back with my shoulder.

“What the fuck, seriously, Walk?” Ava groaned.

I grabbed her hand and towed her away before Cohen could even open his mouth. His laughter followed us. The shithead.

“Aria needs you,” I lied.

Ava rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t pull a muscle. “Sure, she does. Ugh. You never let me have any fun.”

I dropped her onto the couch beside Aria and pointed at her. “Not with my teammates.”

“He’s not your teammate anymore,” she shot back. “You’re retired now, old man. Remember?”

Farrah and Aria were both snickering.

“He’s still my best friend.”

Ava sighed dramatically. “Whatever. Fine.”

The rest of the night blurred into celebration. Nate and Nolan disappeared with half my teammates to another bar. Aria talked to Drake for a bit before he bailed early—Elle was out of town again, and he didn’t want her worrying.

Eventually, Aria came back to us, scanning the room. “Have y’all seen Ava? I’m heading out.”

I looked around. “Nope. She’s probably dancing.” Farrah and I stood up. “But when you see her, tell her we went home. I’m exhausted, and we’ve got to get Hadley in the morning.”

Aria nodded, hugged us both, and vanished into the crowd.

Farrah slid her hand into mine as we headed for the door, but she glanced over her shoulder, brows lifting.

“You know,” she said carefully, “I haven’t seen Cohen in a while either.”

Fuck.

Farrah had been busy as hell lately.

After the Aviators clubhouse renovation, her name got out—fast. And it should’ve. What she did to that space was unreal. The team was still gushing over it. She turned the clubhouse from a place we had to be into a place we wanted to be.

Duke Preston was over the moon and splashed photos across various media outlets, singing her high praises. Wildflower Interiors had blown up since, which required her to hire a few more assistant designers, promote Maddie to a senior designer, and make plans to hire Emma full-time when she finished her degree next year.

I was so proud of her. I got to bear witness to the hard work, the hours, the focus, and the creativity that she poured into this project. Farrah was the real deal, and I think after the clubhouse renovation, she finally believed it herself.