Page 41 of Big Pitch Energy

“You’ve got that little crease between your eyebrows that only shows up when you're overthinking something. Come on. What happened?”

Our food arrived, giving me a moment to gather my thoughts, but Ava wasn't letting me off the hook. She waited, patient but determined, until I finally caved.

“Sam’s friends and their partners were warm, funny, and totally welcoming. They really made me feel welcome, like I was part of the group.”

“That’s great, but I’m sure it’s not what’s been on your mind.”

I took a bite of my burger and chewed, collecting my thoughts.

“At one point, they started talking about how hard it is during the season. And I started thinking about what that wouldactually look like for Sam and me.” The words tumbled out faster. “He’ll be gone between February to September, possibly October.” I picked up a fry and gestured with it. “And they all live in Myrtle Beach so they see their guys during home games and off days. I’m a state away, so I’d literally have to travel if I wanted to see him during the season.”

“And you don’t know how you’ll make it work?”

“I don’t know if Icanmake it work. I’m not twenty-two with no roots. I can’t just up and follow him around the country. I have the studio and all my other commitments.”

Ava nodded slowly then took another sip of beer as she studied me.

“What else?”

“What do you mean, what else? Isn’t that enough?”

“Hope, what you just talked about is logistics. Schedule conflicts. But I’m guessing there's something deeper.”

I met her eyes across the table, seeing the gentle challenge there. This is why I need Ava in my life. She pushes me to be honest, especially with myself.

“I don’t not trust him.It’s the situation. I keep thinking about all those stories you hear about professional athletes on the road. The temptation, the opportunities.” I swallowed a sip of beer. It tasted sharp and bitter. “And we’re new. We haven’t even defined what we are yet. If I only get scraps of him, if we’re in different places more than half the time, how can we build something real? What if I’m just someone who filled the off-season?”

Ava didn’t speak right away. She studied me with those thoughtful eyes of hers, completely unfazed by the emotional dump truck I’d just backed up and unloaded.

“You love him?” she finally asked.

I nodded, the answer loud in my heart even if my mouth couldn’t form the word.

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

“Those are valid concerns, Hope. Anyone in your position would be thinking the same things.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do.” She took in a breath and let it out. “But the real question is, do you trust him?”

“Yeah.”

“Then trust him with this conversation. Trust him enough to tell him what you're worried about instead of building up these fears in your head.”

I stared down at the scarred table, its jagged lines echoing the ones forming in my chest. Ava’s right—I know it—but the thought of that conversation feels like walking into a storm I’ve been pretending isn’t on the radar. Saying it out loud to her cracks the surface. Saying it to Sam? That’s when the dam breaks.

“I know that look," Ava said. "You're catastrophizing again.”

“I'm not?—”

“You are. You're sitting there imagining every way the conversation could go wrong instead of considering that it might actually help.” She leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. “Hope, you have to talk to him. You can't build a relationship on assumptions and fears.”

The tavern noise faded around us as her words sank in. She’s right, of course. I’d been carrying this weight for weeks, letting it grow heavier with each day I didn't address it. The truth of it hit hard, loosening something that’d been knotted up inside me, but also stirring up a fresh wave of doubt.

“Is it ridiculous that I’m even this worked up? I mean, we haven’t been together that long. Maybe I’m being crazy.”

“Hope. Stop.” She gave me a look that cut through all my second-guessing. “It doesn’t matter if it’s been two months or two years, you’re in it. You fell, he fell, and it was mutual and fastand real. Time doesn’t determine whether your feelings count. You do.” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “You’re not being ridiculous,” she added gently. “You’re being brave enough to care. That’s never a bad thing.”

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