Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Tristan
I shouldn’t have gone.
That’s the first thought that hits me the second I step out of the gym.
I shouldn’t have been there.
Shouldn’t have stood in the shadows like some idiot who couldn’t stay away.
Shouldn’t have looked.
But I did.
And now I can’t unsee it.
The way she played.
The way she owned that court like it belonged to her.
The way her body moved—controlled, powerful, every hit clean, intentional.
She’s not the same girl.
Not even close.
And then—
that moment.
My jaw tightens just thinking about it.
Because I felt it before it even happened.
That pull.
That shift.
Like something in the air snapped tight.
She looked up.
Found me.
And just—
looked.
Not cold.
Not distant.
Not like I was nothing.
No.
That look?
That was the one I’ve been waiting for.
The one she used to give me without thinking.
The one that said everything she wouldn’t say out loud.
And she gave it to me.
My chest tightens.
Hard.
Because for a second—I almost moved. I actually took a step.
Like I was going to walk down there.
To her.
In front of everyone.
Didn’t even think about it.
I stop at the edge of the parking lot, dragging a hand through my hair, exhaling hard.
“Get it together,” I mutter.
Because what the hell was that?
“Tristan.”
I freeze.
Isa’s standing a few feet away.
Boot.
Crutches.
Hair perfect.
Lip gloss catching the light.
Always put together.
Always intentional.
“You just leave?” she asks, her voice soft, that Texas drawl wrapping around the words like it always does. Sweet. Easy.
But her eyes?
Sharp.
Watching me.
“I had stuff,” I say.
It’s weak.
We both know it.
She studies me for a second.
Then shifts her weight, adjusting on the crutches, moving closer.
“You didn’t come find me after,” she says.
Not accusing.
Just… stating.
I run a hand along the back of my neck.
“I figured you had people,” I say.
“Mm,” she hums.
A beat.
“I did.”
Her gaze holds mine.
“But I still noticed.”
Isa notices everything.
Silence stretches.
Not awkward.
Not yet.
Just—
loaded.
“You saw her,” she says.
There it is.
No buildup.
No pretending.
I don’t answer.
Don’t need to.
Her lips press together just slightly.
Then she nods once, like that confirms something for her.
“She played well,” Isa says.
Understatement of the year.
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
“She looked at you.”
My chest tightens again.
I don’t move.
Don’t respond.
Isa exhales slowly.
Then—she shifts closer.
Careful with the boot.
Controlled.
Deliberate.
“Tristan,” she says.
Soft.
But there’s something under it now.
Something firmer.
“I’m not stupid.”
My eyes flick back to hers.
“I know what that was,” she continues.
Her voice doesn’t shake.
Doesn’t crack.
“That wasn’t nothing.”
No.
It wasn’t.
“And I know you felt it,” she adds.
A beat.
“Because I did too.”
That makes my brows pull slightly.
She lets out a small breath.
“Not the same way,” she clarifies. “But I felt the shift.”
Isa adjusts her grip on the crutch, then looks up at me fully.
No mask now.
No sweetness.
Just—truth.
“I need to know what I’m doing here,” she says.
There it is.
The line in the sand.
I swallow once.
“What do you mean?” I ask, even though I already know.
She huffs a soft breath, almost a laugh.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
A step closer.
Now we’re within reach.
“I’ve been here,” she says. “Showing up. Spending time with you. Letting you take care of me.”
Her eyes search mine.
“And I like you, Tristan.”
That lands.
Because I know it’s real.
“I’m not doing this halfway,” she continues.
Her voice lowers.
More intimate.
More direct.
“I’m not your distraction.”
My jaw tightens.
“I’m not your… placeholder until you figure your shit out with her.”
That hits harder.
Because it’s closer to the truth than I want to admit.
“I deserve more than that,” she says.
She does.
That’s the problem.
“So,” she finishes, lifting her chin slightly, “are we doing this?”
Silence.
The question hangs there.
Heavy.
Waiting.
My brain goes quiet for a second.
Because this?
This is where I decide.
Isa is right in front of me.
Real.
Present.
Choosing me.
Stella?
She’s—
what?
A look.
A moment.
A maybe.
But God—
that look.
I drag a hand down my face.
Exhale slow.
“I care about you,” I say.
And I mean it.
Her eyes soften just slightly.
But she doesn’t let me off that easy.
“That’s not what I asked.” She shifts again, closing the last bit of distance between us.
Her hand comes up—rests lightly against my chest.
Right over my heart.
“Are you choosing me?”
My pulse kicks under her palm.
And for a second—I almost say yes.
Because it would be easy.
Without chaos or history.
Her fingers curl slightly into my shirt.
“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
My jaw tightens.
Because the truth?
I want to be the guy who chooses her.
But I’m not.
Not fully.
And she sees it.
I don’t even have to say it.
Her hand stills.
Just for a second.
Then—before I can think—before I can stop it—she moves.
Grabs the front of my shirt again.
Pulls me down and kisses me.
It’s not soft.
It’s not tentative.
It’s not asking.
It’s claiming.
Heat hits first.
Then pressure.
Then the sharp edge of something almost desperate—but controlled just enough to not look like it.
My body reacts.
Instinct.
Hands coming up, steadying her, one at her waist, the other brushing her arm to keep her balanced.
She tastes like gloss and something sweet.
Her fingers tighten in my shirt. Holding me close.
I let it happen—it’s easy.
Because she’s right here.
But it doesn’t hit the same.
Not like—I pull back.
Not abruptly.
Not rough.
But enough.
Her eyes search mine immediately.
And there it is.
The answer I didn’t give.
She exhales slowly.
Nods once.
Small.
Controlled.
“Okay,” she says.
But it doesn’t sound okay.
“I get it.”
I hate that I’m the reason her voice changed.
But she doesn’t break.
Doesn’t fall apart.
Isa straightens.
Adjusts her crutch.
Lifts her chin.
“But I’m not done,” she adds quietly.
My brows pull.
“I don’t lose easily, Tristan.”
A beat.
“And I’m not giving you up over a look.”
Then she turns.
Starts moving toward the parking lot.
And I stand there—watching her go.
Knowing two things at the exact same time: I should have chosen her and I didn’t.
Which means—this just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
I don’t go back to the team house.
I don’t go anywhere, actually.
I just drive.
No music.
No destination.
Just the road and the echo of everything I should’ve said—and didn’t.
Isa’s kiss.
Stella’s eyes.
That look.
That damn look.
I drag a hand over my mouth, exhaling hard as I pull into the athletic complex parking lot.
Lights are still on inside, this place never really sleeps.
I head straight to the locker room.
No one’s here. I strip out of my clothes and turn the shower on cold.
Not warm.
Not even cool.
Cold.
The water hits like a shock to the system.
Freezing.
Brutal.
Exactly what I need.
I brace my hands against the tile, head hanging, water running down my face, my neck, my back—washing away sweat, tension, everything except what’s stuck in my head.
Because that doesn’t go anywhere.
Stella.
Looking at me like that.
Isa.
Kissing me like she already made the decision for both of us.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Get it together,” I mutter.
But I can’t.
I shut the water off after a few minutes—if that.
Towel off fast.
Don’t even look in the mirror.
I already know what I’ll see.
A guy who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.
I try to study.
I really do.
Laptop open.
Notes pulled up.
Highlighter in hand.
I read the same paragraph three times.
Don’t absorb a single word.
Because my brain keeps looping back.
That moment on the court.
That step I almost took.
That life I almost chose.
I slam the laptop shut.
Done.
I grab my phone.
Don’t think about it.
Just hit the contact.
Leo.
It rings twice.
Picks up.
“Vale,” he answers, easy, like nothing’s changed. “You alive or did California finally humble you?”
I huff out a dry breath. “I’m losing my mind.”
There’s a pause.
A shift.
Leo hears it.
“What happened?”
I start talking.
And once I start—
I don’t stop.
I tell him everything.
The game.
The look.
Isa.
The kiss.
The question I didn’t answer.
By the time I’m done, my chest feels tight.
Like I just ran a mile without moving.
Silence on the other end.
Then—
“Fuck, Vale.”
Leo exhales slow.
“You’re in deep.”
“No shit,” I mutter.
“You still want Stella?” he asks.
Straight.
No sugarcoating.
My jaw tightens.
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
“Then why are you with Isa?”
“I’m not—” I stop myself.
Because that’s not true.
Not really.
“I don’t know,” I say instead, dragging a hand through my hair. “She’s… there. She’s real. She chooses me. It’s easy.”
A beat.
“She makes sense.”
“And Stella doesn’t,” Leo finishes.
“She makes me feel like I’m about to screw everything up again.”
There’s a sharp exhale on the other end.
And then—a voice that is very much not Leo’s.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
I freeze.
“…Jade?”
“Hi,” she says, flat.
Then immediately—
“Damn, Vale. You’re messing this up again?”
I pull the phone away, staring at it for a second. “You’re on speaker?”
“Obviously,” Leo mutters.
“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to be an idiot this time,” Jade continues, her voice cutting clean through me.
“I’m not—”
“You are,” she snaps. “You are doing the exact same thing you did before. Playing it safe with the girl who’s there while you’re emotionally tied to someone else.”
I clench my jaw.
“That’s not—”
“That’s exactly what it is,” she cuts in. “And it’s not fair to Isa.”
That lands.
Hard.
“And it’s not fair to Stella,” she adds.
Softer now.
But worse.
“And honestly?” Jade continues, “it’s not fair to you either.”
I drop back onto the bench, dragging a hand down my face.
“So what, I just—what—blow everything up?”