---- Chapter 17 Ava choked on her tea, sputtering. Danny's ears turned a fascinating shade of red. Awkwardness. Amusement. Her son's timing was impeccable. Danny cleared his throat, flustered. "Well, Leo, it's... it's a bit more complicated than that. |... | just always thought your mom was pretty special." Embarrassment. A clumsy attempt to justify past intentions. Leo, relentless, pressed on. "So, if Mommy wasn't married to mean Mark, would you have asked her to marry you a long, long time ago, Uncle Danny?" Child's innocence. Persistent questioning. Ava finally found her voice. "Leo Maxwell Rodriguez! That's enough grown-up talk for one night." She shot Danny an apologetic look. "And we do *not* talk about 'other men' or 'other women.' Being a third party in someone's marriage is wrong. Period." Firmness. A clear moral stance. Danny, recovering, winked at Leo. "Your mom's right, sport. How about we talk about what kind of cake I'm going to bake for your half-birthday next week instead?" He pulled a small, wrapped gift from his bag. "And here's a little something to practice your robotics skills." ---- Playfulness. Distraction. A change of subject. Leo's eyes lit up. "A new robotics kit! Thanks, Uncle Danny! You're the best!" He launched himself at Danny for a hug. Child's affection. Playfulness. Ava watched them, a warmth spreading through her. This felt ... fight. Calm. Safe. Warmth. Bonding. A sense of nascent family. That night, a thunderstorm rolled in. Leo, who was still a little jumpy after everything, had a nightmare. Danny, who had been staying in the small guest cottage out back, heard him cry out and came to check. Ava was already there, comforting Leo. At Leo's tearful insistence ("Please stay, Uncle Danny! The thunder is scary!"), Danny ended up on the sofa. Comfort. Domesticity. Later, Ava, unable to sleep, went to the kitchen for some water. The power flickered and died. In the sudden darkness, she bumped into someone. Danny. "Oof! Sorry!" Ava exclaimed. "Ava? You okay?" Danny's voice was close. Too close. Surprise. Awkwardness. Heightened awareness. "Just getting some water," Ava whispered. She could feel the heat radiating from him. He reached out, his hand brushing hers as he fumbled for a ---- flashlight on the counter. "Here," he said, his voice a little rough. He found the flashlight, switched it on. His other hand was resting on her arm. He didn't move it. She could feel his thumb gently stroking her skin. Concern. Playfulness. Sexual tension. "You know," he murmured, his face illuminated in the dim glow, his eyes searching hers, "you have a little smudge of flour... right here." He reached up, his fingers brushing her cheek, then lingering. His touch was electric. Ava's breath hitched. This was too fast. Too intense. She pulled back, flustered. "I... | should get back to Leo." Awkwardness. Shyness. She retreated, turning on her phone's flashlight. Danny was wearing a simple t-shirt and pajama pants. His hair was sleep-tousled. The flashlight beam caught the faint handprint of flour Ava had accidentally left on his chest earlier when he'd helped her with a heavy sack. He looked incredibly attractive. And very, very male. Attraction. Awkwardness. The suggestive intimacy of the dark kitchen was unnerving. Danny chuckled softly, a low rumble in his chest. "Still shy, Ava-girl? | remember you blushing just like that when | tried to hold your hand at the eighth-grade dance." Playfulness. Teasing. A reference to their shared past. ---- Ava felt her cheeks burn. "That was a long time ago, Danny." She grabbed a bottle of water and practically fled back to her room, her heart pounding. Evasion. Awkwardness. Danny watched her go, a fond smile on his face. He was amused by her reaction. He knew he was pushing, just a little. But he also knew Ava. She needed time. And he had all the time in the world. Ava lay in bed, listening to the rain and Leo's steady breathing. Sleep wouldn't come. The day's events, Danny's closeness, the memory of Mark's hateful face... Restlessness. Lingering thoughts. It was all too much.