Chapter Five
Clay
The door clicks shut behind me, cutting off the TV and the faint pop of firewood.
For a second, I just stand there, palms pressed to the dresser, bent forward like I need to catch my breath.
The quiet should calm me, but it doesn’t.
It thickens, heavy with everything I’ve been trying not to think about since the second she opened her door.
I drag in a breath, shove it out hard, and pull my phone from my pocket. A new text flashes across the screen.
Liam: How’d the interview go? You nail it or piss someone off again?
A humorless sound slips out before I can stop it. Depends who you ask, I type back, then set the phone face down. I flip open my laptop. The glow burns my eyes, but at least it gives me something to focus on. Starting with the weather.
The radar crawls across the screen, bands of blue bleeding into purple, heavy pockets blotting out half the map. Not only are we getting snow dumped on us, but soon it’ll turn to ice. With the wind picking up, it will be impossible to go anywhere.
My jaw tightens. We’re not going anywhere.
Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow either. Which means I’m stuck here—with Tessa, her laughter bleeding through the walls, her voice filling every corner.
Her scent still hangs in the air, impossible to ignore.
She’s the one person I’ve never figured out how to shut out, no matter how many times I’ve tried.
I close the tab and pull up my inbox, shifting to safer ground.
Scouting notes and game footage. Stuff I can handle.
There are a couple of emails from the media requesting a comment, so I fire back short and impersonal replies.
But my head’s not in it. It’s down the hall, where she’s probably curled under a blanket, Christmas movie still playing like the storm outside isn’t swallowing us whole.
I push harder to lock in on work, pulling up Kolmont’s last game. At least tape makes sense. I lean against the headboard, notebook balanced on my knee, pen in hand. The scrape of skates, the roar of the crowd, and the smack of the puck steady me.
I jot their gaps without thinking. Lazy line changes. Neutral-zone turnovers. A goalie who bites early and leaves the far post wide open. It’s all muscle memory. This part of me knows I could take a team and make it lethal if anyone ever gave me the shot.
But she still creeps in.
Her laugh seeps through the wall, muffled but close enough to twist in my chest. The air smells like pine and firewood, clinging to my shirt, mixing with the sweetness of cocoa I swear I can still taste.
I crank the volume and rewind the last play. Pretend I don’t hear the shuffle of her moving around, followed by the closing of a door. My pen scratches the page, grip too tight, knuckles burning.
Focus. Tape. Notes. My future.
But the truth settles heavy on my mind. No amount of film will prep me for another day stuck in this cabin with Tessa St. James.
A yawn escapes me, my jaw tight, and I finally give up. I snap my laptop shut and drop it onto the dresser beside the bed. My shoulders ache from hunching over, stiff like I’ve just played three overtimes.
I strip out of my sleep pants and T-shirt, left in just my boxers. The cabin’s warmer than I expected, with the fireplace pushing heat through the vents. My body’s already a furnace. Maybe I’m just used to the cold.
The mattress dips as I stretch out, eyes shut, waiting for the quiet to do its job. It doesn’t. The second I let go, she’s there.
Tessa’s standing in the middle of her ransacked room, followed by her standing on the curb beside my car.
Snow sticks to her hair, her cheeks flushed, freckles scattered across skin I know too well.
Her eyes are bright blue, clear as the cold around us.
Smiling at me, she wasn’t the least bit concerned by the storm.
And then it slides back to that night. To the last time I touched her.
Her body trembles under my hands. My name on her lips like she couldn’t stop it. The heat of her skin, her mouth urgent against mine. Tessa’s never been good at hiding how she feels, and I love that about her. Too damn much.
I flip onto my side, restless. Sheets twist around my legs, the mattress groaning under me. I drag a hand down my face, but it doesn’t erase the memory of her taste or tamp down the burn she left searing my palms.
She’s down the hall right now. For the first time, we don’t have to worry about my brother or our families. And here I am—wired, too hot, every muscle tight from trying not to think about her and failing desperately.
If she’d been ready when I picked her up, we might’ve beaten the storm. Could’ve been at the lodge already instead of stuck here with nothing but silence and four walls closing in.
Heat coils in my stomach. My jaw aches from how hard I’m clenching it. I yank a pillow over my face, trying to smother the thoughts, the ache, the want. All it does is muffle the rough sound that rips out of me.
“Christ.” My voice is shot, coming out more like a low growl.
Sleep isn’t coming. Not with her that close, not with the storm outside and the memories I’ve spent years trying to forget.
I swing my legs over the bed with a curse. The floor creaks under my bare feet. I drag a hand over my neck—skin hot, hair damp. My body’s running too warm for the room I’m in.
Water. I need something cold. Anything.
I shove the door open, and the hinge groans. At the same time, the bathroom door clicks, and Tessa steps out. We both stop abruptly, the narrow hallway feeling like it’s forcing us closer together.
Light from the lamp behind me cuts across her face, catching the freckles and the flush on her cheeks. Loose strands of hair fall from her bun, her sweatshirt sliding off one shoulder and showing her collarbone. Her lips part, her breath hitching just enough to hear.
I should step aside, but I don’t, and neither does she.
Her eyes drag over me, slow and hesitant at first, until they dip low and my jaw locks. No way she’s missing what my thin Calvin Klein boxer briefs don’t hide.
The air feels thick, heavier than the snow piling up outside.
“You’re staring,” I say, my voice gravelly.
Her gaze jerks up, defensive. “I’m not—”
“You are.” I shift, the floorboard groaning under me. Shadows cut across my chest, and her eyes flicker there before locking back on mine. She’s so damn stubborn.
She opens her mouth like she’s going to argue, but all that comes out is a whisper. “Clay…”
The sound of my name, soft and shaky, hits like a puck to the chest. That look in her eyes, pleading and daring all at once, is the same one from last time. The one I can’t forget.
The storm rattles the windows, wind clawing at the walls. Inside, the silence presses in, heavy with everything we’re not saying. My fist curls tight at my side, nails digging into my palms. If I don’t keep myself grounded, I’ll give in to her, and I can’t.
Not because I don’t want to, but because she isn’t mine.
I tip my head slightly, closing it by an inch anyway. “Like what you see?”
Her breath hitches, loud enough to cut through the storm. Her eyes flick down, then back up. Color rushes her cheeks. “Don’t—” Her voice wavers, but she pushes through it. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
A humorless laugh escapes. “You didn’t look away.”
Her chin tips up, defiant even with her voice still shaking. “You’re the one walking around half naked. Maybe that works with all the girls you drag home, but you’d think staying in someone else’s cabin would be different.”
The corner of my mouth twitches before I kill it. She catches it anyway. She always does. Her shoulders square, like she’s waiting to see if I’ll make the next move.
Instead, I clear my throat and straighten, cutting us both off. “Go to bed, Tessa. I don’t want to have to drag you out in the morning.” My voice comes out harsher than I meant.
Her lips part, ready to fire back, but she swallows it down. For a beat, her eyes sweep my face like she’s searching for something before she steps past me.
The air shifts as I brush past her, close enough to catch the warmth of her skin. Every nerve in me spikes. I don’t look back.
Inside the bathroom, I shut the door and lean against the wall, head tipped back as a heavy breath leaves me. “Christ.”
You’d think the weight on my chest would ease, but I’m more wound up now than I was five minutes ago.
Sleep? Not a chance in hell. Not with her looking at me like that. Not when every nerve in me wants to remind her she’s the only girl I want in my bed.