Page 61 of Stick Handled

Avery’s light flickers on.

She stayed in with her friend after the game. Her friend must’ve left already because Avery looks like she’s alone.

She fully steps into view, not wearing Rowan’s jersey anymore. Instead, she has a loose T-shirt and those little shorts that made my brain short-circuit the first time I saw them. Her hair’s loose, falling untamed over her shoulders in soft waves down her back. She doesn’t notice me at first, moving around her room and adjusting things on her desk. Then she glances out the window, and our eyes meet.

I expect her to look away, to do that shy thing where she fidgets and pretends she didn’t see me. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she smiles. It’s small, soft. Just for me.

She pulls out her phone and types something on it before looking back up.

My phone buzzes on the table beside me, pulling my attention away. I grab it, her name lighting up the screen.

AVERY:Are you okay?

I stare at the words for a moment, then glance back up at her window. She’s sitting on her bed now, her phone glowing in her hands.

But before I can type anything, movement behind her catches my eye.

Rowan.

He steps into her room, his face tired but still carrying that stern edge he always has after games. They exchange a few words I can’t hear, and then he leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Avery nods, saying something back, and Rowan lingers for a second longer before turning and closing the door behind him.

I look back down at my phone, her message still staring up at me.

I type back.

ME:Shouldn’t you be asleep?

The dots appear, vanish, then reappear. She’s hesitating, trying to figure out what to say.

AVERY:I was waiting for you to come back.

That stops me. Waiting for me to come back. No one has waited for me to come home before. I swallow and type out a reply.

ME:Well,I’m here now. What are you going to do?

I glance up again, watching her. She’s biting her lip now, her fingers tightening around the phone like she’s thinking too hard. Then something shifts.

She stands up and walks over to the window. My brows knit together as she opens it, sticking her head out to glance around.

What the hell is she doing?

The next thing I know, she’s climbing out.

My heart kicks up as she lands softly on the grass below, her slippers barely making a sound. A grin stretches across my face as I watch my girl sneak out.

She looks back at the house once, then darts toward the driveway, disappearing into the shadows.

I’m already halfway to the door when the doorbell rings.

I open it, and there she is, in her pajamas and slightly out of breath, her cheeks flushed.

“Hi,” she whispers, looking up at me with those big, beautiful eyes.

I lean against the doorframe, letting my gaze drag over her. The T-shirt is too big, hanging off one shoulder, and her hair is still a mess from her quick escape.

“Making a habit of sneaking out of windows for me?” I hold back a smile, arching a brow.

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