Page 67 of Love so Cold

"Here goes nothing," I whisper to no one, my breath visible in the air. With a resolve that feels like it's hanging by a thread, I lift my hand and knock on the door.

A few seconds go by until the door swings open, andOlivia's face registers surprise—a mirror of the unexpectedness I feel at seeing her so soon. "Coach Victor?" Her voice is pitched high, curiosity painting her features.

"Hey, Olivia," I start, crouching a bit to meet her eye level. "I'm here to see your mom." My explanation comes out more like a plea—I'm suddenly aware of how much I'm intruding.

Her eyebrows knit together in concern. "But...the board meeting tonight..." She's protective, this one, and it makes me respect her all the more.

"Listen, I know you want to look out for her." My voice softens as I try to convey sincerity. "I'm not here to cause trouble, quite the opposite actually." I hope my eyes show truth because kids read honesty like pros. "Can I see her?"

Olivia chews on her lip, considering, then nods slowly. "Even if Mom doesn't want to see you, she probably should." There's wisdom in her statement that belies her age.

"Thank you," I say as she steps aside to let me enter.

As we walk through the house, it's like stepping into a different world from the sterile environments I'm used to. The walls are lined with photos and drawings, evidence of a life lived fully, messily, happily. The floorboards creak beneath our feet, singing a song of years gone by, each step a note in their chorus.

The living room is small but cozy, a well-worn couchtaking center stage amidst shelves brimming with books and trinkets. A crochet blanket is tossed over the back—homemade, no doubt. There's a sense of comfort here, a palpable warmth that has nothing to do with the thermostat setting.

"Wait here?" Olivia instructs, her voice floating back to me as she slips out the door to the patio.

I stand there, feeling oddly like an intruder yet invited, surrounded by the essence of Avery and her life—so alien and yet compelling in its simplicity.

I can't help my gaze drifting to the window where I catch a glimpse of Avery outside. She's wrapped up in a big coat, her attention fixed on something in front of her. It's a mosaic, half-formed and mysterious from this angle, like a puzzle begging to be pieced together. The colors glint weakly in the fading light, and she seems lost in it, her expression a mix of concentration and something that looks a lot like sorrow.

There's an urge building inside me, a need to understand her, to bridge the gap between our worlds. I realize how lopsided our knowledge of each other is—Avery knows chapters of my life while I've barely read her preface.

"Can't just stand here staring," I mutter to myself, instinctively moving toward the door Olivia disappeared through moments ago.

The cold hits me as I step out onto the patio, andthere's Avery, so close now, her cheeks tinged pink from the chill.

Olivia announces that she has homework to do with a decisive nod, already halfway out the door before either of us can say anything. She doesn't look back as she disappears into the house, leaving a silence that spreads out between Avery and me.

I shift on my feet, the chill of the patio seeping through my shoes. "I... uh, noticed you've been quiet lately. Radio silent, actually." I pause, watching for her reaction. "And the flowers... I guess they didn't do the trick."

Avery's gaze flickers away for a moment, and when it returns, there's a glint of something like humor in her eyes despite the hint of redness rimming them. "Most people would take that as a hint, Victor."

"Guess I'm not most people," I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. "Never been great at hints—or reading people, for that matter."

We lapse into silence again, and I find myself staring at the mosaic she was so engrossed in before. The pieces are scattered like fragments of a forgotten dream, colors and shapes that don't quite make sense yet. Curiosity nudges me forward. "This is... it's something else. What's it supposed to be?"

She turns back to the artwork, her fingers tracing the incomplete patterns. "It's meant to be 'home,'" she sayssoftly. "But I haven't figured out how to finish it. Home feels... fleeting, these days."

"Home," I echo, letting the word linger in the air. Her voice holds a weight that makes me want to understand, to see the picture she's trying to piece together. Avery and her mosaic—both works of art in progress, both holding back their full story until the last piece falls into place.

I rake a hand through my hair, the cold biting at my knuckles. "Listen, Avery, about tonight's board meeting?—"

"Save it." Her voice is firm, cutting off whatever plea she thinks I'm about to make. "If you're here to convince me to back down, don't bother."

I shake my head, a small laugh escaping despite the tension. "No, I wouldn't expect you to. And honestly? I don't want you to."

"Then what?" She crosses her arms, but there's curiosity behind the skepticism in her gaze.

Sighing, I look at her directly, letting sincerity seep into my voice. "I came because... this whole development mess isn't how I wanted us to meet. What I really want, Avery, is to get to know you. Without all the... complications."

Her eyes search mine, as if looking for the truth behind the words. The doubt doesn't leave her face, though. "Trust isn't something I give out easily," she says, and there's a tremor in her voice that wasn't there before. "Especially not to men who have every reason to be just another person walking out of my life."

"Hey, I get it," I say quickly, my own past flaring up like an old wound. I know all too well what it's like to be left behind. "It's not just the circumstances, I understand that."

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. "No, Victor, you don't see. My past—it's a string of letdowns, and I can't go through that again. I can't do that to Olivia. Every man has left, right when I needed them most."

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