Page 18 of The Comeback

CHAPTER 10

AVA

I’m glad Gabriella invited Dalton. We’ve been catching up for the last half hour, and being at Colby’s house has been more fun than I expected, especially after the unhappy look Jett shot my way when he saw me talking to his family. It surprised me how hard it was to see his dad. I was close to everyone in his family, and his dad was always so friendly and kind to me. Giving up the idea of having a father-in-law like Dave McCombs was just another thing that ripped me apart back then. Good thing his mom didn’t come along. I would’ve had to hightail it out of there.

When Jett came in through the back door of Colby’s, my skin prickled the moment he saw me, and I can’t decide whether it’s a good thing or not. Like that moment on the football field, he gazed at me for a few seconds before turning away. I can’t decipher what’s going on with him. I wish I could make him see that he wouldn’t be here now if I hadn’t left to stop him from quitting, but now that he’s made it pro, I don’t think he understands my perspective back then.

Now Dalton’s distracting me. I glance over while Jett and Colby chat, curious about the seriousness on the guys’ faces. They’re probably talking football, but the few times Colby looks over at Gabriella chatting with another player’s girlfriend, I think maybe not. I hope Jett has brought up his thoughts on the wedding and Colby is setting him straight. If he can set aside his judgments about me planning this wedding “spectacle,” maybe we can even be friends. It doesn’t surprise me that the desire to be friends again warms me. I can picture chatting with him about football, getting to hear about his rise to the top, stepping into one of his long, lingering hugs, and feeling the safety and strength I always seemed to absorb from those embraces. I suppress a shiver of hope for that. That’s going too far. Friends is the best we can hope for, given our past.

“I’m going to grab something to drink,” I say to Dalton, standing up. I’ve been sitting on the stool for a while.

He hops up too, indicating the bar on the other side of the counter from us. “Let me.”

He bartended through college, so I say, “Okay, but no alcohol. I have to drive back to Kemah tonight,” and sit back down.

“No problem. I dated a Mormon girl for a few months and perfected my nonalcoholic offerings.” He grins at me before he starts grabbing things for the drink. He has that great dimple when he smiles, and his eyes are a sparkling brown that seem to always have a cheerful glint. His smile softens when he catches me watching him, and heat pinches at my cheeks. He turns around and opens a cupboard and asks over his shoulder, “Can I surprise you?”

“Of course.” Dalton and I were friends back in high school, and he was there for me in the hard few months after I came back to Houston after breaking up with Jett. He never tried to take advantage of that, just stood by me.

“I’m going to get some chips and guac.” I point to the table.

Dalton nods while he pours a syrup into my drink, and I scoot off the stool to head to the table. I noticed immediately what Jett brought and wonder if he did it on purpose or if he just loves this combo that much. I made fun of him all the time for eating salt-and-vinegar chips with guacamole, told him how blasphemous that was to the guac, and he always just laughed and ate more. I can’t bring that over to eat with Dalton, but I do need some guac. I fill up a small bowl with the guac Jett brought and grab one of the many bags of tortilla chips.

I set everything on the bar that Dalton’s working behind and take a sip from the water bottle next to me while I wait for him to finish up my drink.

A moment later he slides a glass toward me. “It’s fairly tame, as my talents go, but on a hot day like today, I feel like it’s best to stay basic. Try it.”

I take a sip and love it. Lemon, soda water, and a hint of mint in there, along with another flavor I can’t identify—mango or pineapple or something tropical, maybe. “It’s perfect,” I praise him, taking another long drink.

He’s just finished making his own drink when Gabriella comes over and requests something, with Colby in her wake. They begin joking about paying him for putting him to work.

“You forgot the salt-and-vinegar chips,” a low voice says from behind me, and my whole body warms.

We could be sitting on that ratty couch at Jett’s apartment, his arm around me, snaking me close to him as he teases me about just putting out the tortilla chips. “I’m trying to break you of that weirdness,” I would say, waving my hands at the salt-and-vinegar chips.

I turn on my stool, hoping my face isn’t as red as the heat building in me says it must be. He’s wearing the same black joggers and Puma T-shirt that he was wearing in the family room at the stadium, and it too reminds me of game days like this that we spent together, watching game film or him just playing video games. Up close I can smell the light scent of his deodorant, the same piney, sporty scent he wore back in college.

I absently scratch at my arm, trying to think of something to say that’s not going to sound flirty. After our last interaction, that’s the last thing I should be doing.

“Forgot is the wrong word,” I say and clear my throat. How can he make me so nervous, even after so long? Maybe I just overused my voice at the game. That sounds better than everything in me catching fire because Jett’s near. I pick up the mocktail Dalton made me and take another long drink, hoping to buy some time for something to talk about with Jett other than the fact that missing him has suddenly overwhelmed me.

He smiles the slightest bit and my heart hitches. “How are your parents?” he asks, sitting on a stool next to me. “I haven’t seen them in a while. My mom keeps bugging me to come by for church.”

I chuckle at his raised eyebrows and the slight exasperation at his mom’s lack of understanding about his career. “Sundays are probably a difficult day for you to work in a church service, huh?” I tease.

“She thinks when we have a late game, I should be able to make a nine a.m. service.” He shrugs. “I probably could swing it. Maybe I’d play better. Have you gone with your parents since you’ve been in town?”

I shake my head and scratch absently at my arm again. “They’re in Florida. My uncle is trying to convince them to retire there and move in next door at their retirement community in Tampa. They’ll be there until Christmas. Mom thought I should stay at their house, but Gabriella insisted a beach house would help me stay chill while we’re planning.”

“Aren’t wedding planners usually the calm ones at these events?” His voice is teasing, and he tilts his head, his blue eyes and their intent gaze making my stomach flip a few times.

I pull a chip through the guac and shove it into my mouth to calm things down. It’s not until I bite down that I realize I grabbed one of the salt-and-vinegar chips Jett brought over instead of a tortilla chip. He smirks at me. It’s all over his expression that he knows I’m flustered by his presence. I struggle to swallow. My throat suddenly feels tight. Maybe trying to eat in front of him was a bad idea.

“Yeah, I’m usually the calm one,” I say when I’ve finally gotten the bite down.

Jett is all but laughing at me now.

I leave it unsaid that this wedding comes with some added stress. I already know Jett’s opinion on that. I swallow again, my throat thick, as I think of the way he judged me for helping Gabriella make the wedding more publicized.

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