His sister’s earlier claim about him being alone drifted through him. He chose independence and self-reliance. The blank wall mocked him. “The highest score gets full bragging rights and their name listed on the wall of champions.”
Ben hopped as if anticipation bounced through every limb, forcing him to move. He tugged on his dad’s arm. A plea widened his eyes.
“Ask Kyle if you can play.” Dan dipped his chin toward Kyle. “This is his office.”
Kyle grinned at Dan’s hesitation over the word office before meeting Ava’s gaze. “I refer to it as the inspiration room inside the think tank. There’s also a design lab with 3-D printers and more professional equipment. Everything required to make this place look like a real business.”
One corner of Ava’s mouth twitched as if daring Kyle to try harder. He’d never turned down a dare in his life.
Dan stepped back and raised his hands. “Definitely not judging.”
“He’s just jealous.” Ava wrapped her arm around Dan’s waist, easy and comfortable.
Dan hugged Ava. “I won’t deny I’m jealous.”
Jealous. Kyle watched Ava and Dan’s casual interactions. In that moment, he understood jealousy on a very different level. But relationships complicated life. Relationships required effort and focus and time—everything he needed to put into developing an idea. And everything he required for his contest to be a success. He acknowledged that twinge of envy that tinted his eyesight green and filed Ava in the if-only-he-was-a-good-team-player-and-this-was-another-time category.
Both Dan and Ben shared twin looks of excitement.
Ben rubbed his hands together. “So, can we really play?”
“We don’t want to take up too much of Kyle’s time.” Ava touched Ben’s shoulder. “I’m sure Kyle has plans for the afternoon.”
This was where Kyle agreed with Ava. He should explain that he had to work. This was his cue to hurry through the rest of the tour and make the offer for them to come back another time. Or never. This was where he regained his focus and concentrated on his priorities.
That chalkboard wall trapped Kyle’s gaze as if reflecting some void deep inside of himself. But Kyle liked his life. “It’s Saturday, you can play as much and as long as you want.”
“Seriously?” Ben asked.
Ava kept her hand on the boy’s shoulder, as if holding him in place, and eyed Kyle. “One hour.”
He should accept her terms. One hour was already overstaying their welcome. He held her green gaze, locked on as if they’d entered some staring contest where the winner received more than simple bragging rights. “As it happens, my afternoon is wide-open.”
Ava never flinched. “One hour should be more than enough time.”
Challenge accepted. He’d make sure one hour wasn’t long enough. Kyle pointed to the wall again and grinned at Ben. “I feel I should warn you that I don’t lose easily, and I intend to have my name up there.”
Ben shrugged one shoulder as if unconcerned with Kyle’s skills. “I like to win, too.”
“I can’t decide where we should start.” Dan’s laughter mixed with Ben’s as the pair ventured around the room.
The cheerful sound seeped inside Kyle as if trying to fill that void. He’d once shared that same joy with his sisters, playing Ping-Pong in their parents’ basement that they’d converted into a teenager’s hideaway. Kyle looked at Ava. “We can continue the tour or play a round of pool.”
She opted for the tour, but her gaze landed on the Skee-Ball lanes and stuck as they passed.
Kyle guided Ava into the development lab. The state-of-the-art room had multiple desktops, a dry-erase-board wall and tinted glass windows that overlooked the city. More hand-held games and toys littered the entire space. Multicolored puzzle balls and cubes sat among the various plastic building blocks scattered across the empty worktable. Three-dimensional printed items, ranging from a bottle opener to the first pieces of a chess game, stood sentry around the room. Each piece a reminder of his continued unoriginality. Middle school kids printed more complicated designs on their 3-D printers.
“You’re running a contest?” Ava pointed at the contest time line Kyle had written in colored markers on the dry-erase board.
“I put it together this week with my legal team, and we issued a press statement yesterday morning.” Kyle eyed the list on the dry-erase board. Acting as tour guide to Ava accomplished nothing productive and only reminded him of that awkward boy he’d long since outgrown. “I need to thank Ben for the idea.”
“Ben?” Ava stood beside the sleek metal table and picked up the piggy bank he’d used as a paperweight for the stack of contest flyers.
“I got the idea when Ben talked about that invention game you guys play.” Guilt pricked into his skin like a rough tag in his shirt collar. He’d done nothing wrong. He had nothing to confess.
He’d launched a contest. Planned to give the winner money. He’d even written in the rules that the winner’s idea became the property of his company once they accepted the cash payout. He’d spent hours with his legal team. Even required the entrants to click an “I accept the terms and conditions agreement” box to enter the contest. That wasn’t guilt scratching at him; it was panic. He had to find judges and mentors immediately.
Ava picked up a contest flyer and searched the paper as if searching for understanding. “What’s behind the contest?”
His chance at success. Albeit from the mind of someone else. Still, the winner would get money and Kyle would fulfill his contract. Everyone won. That scratch dug deeper into his neck like a razor pressed at the wrong angle. “It’s a way to give back. People have great ideas, but no platform to build them.”
“You’ll supply the platform.” Ava smiled, sincere and wide. Surprise drifted through her voice as if she’d doubted his altruistic streak. “That’s really impressive.”
Somehow her smile only sharpened that razor against his skin. He stepped forward and grabbed the flyer.
Ava held on to the paper. “Afraid I might enter?”
Kyle didn’t want to encourage her. After all, playing a game about invention ideas in the car was much different than coming up with a viable idea that could potentially change lives. Ava was certainly a pleasure to be around, but she wasn’t an inventor. Nor was she his conscience. “The contest is open to anyone with an idea.”
Ava released the paper. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Kyle placed the flyer and his guilt back under the piggy bank paperweight.
“Your contest can possibly change someone’s life,” she said.
Or return his life to how it should be: with his family home, where he needed them. “I’m not sure it’s life-changing money.”
“Trust me. It is.” Ava’s earnest tone drew Kyle’s focus. “You’re going to change someone’s world.”
He only wanted to bring back his old world, where he’d always belonged—the one he’d relied on before Papa Quinn’s death. Before his family had splintered and had fled in different directions. Without a new idea, the contest was his only chance. “The contest has to be a success first.”
“It has your name and you’re already a success,” Ava said. “How could it fail?”
Kyle concentrated on her wide smile, refusing to list all the ways his plan might fail. Or the ways he might fail. If only her smile was enough to lessen the unease building inside him. He grabbed a puzzle cube from the table to keep his hands busy. But no matter how many turns he made on the cube, he couldn’t quite organize his guilt back under that pile of flyers. Or rearrange