Chapter Thirteen
Clay
The smell of coffee pulls me into the kitchen, but it doesn’t do a damn thing to settle me—not when she’s already there.
It’s Christmas morning. The house is loud with laughter and chatter, but all I can see is Tessa. She’s sitting at the table with the kids, mug in hand, pretending everything’s normal. But when her eyes lift and meet mine, the air shifts. The memory from last night sparks alive between us.
I take the seat across from her, trying to play it off, but my pulse won’t settle. Her hair’s down, her sweatshirt’s soft and familiar, and it should feel easy between us. It doesn’t. It feels like standing near a live wire.
When I shift in my chair, our legs brush under the table. Just a light touch, but it’s enough to make every muscle in my body lock up. I should pull away, but I don’t, and neither does she. Her breath falters just slightly before she forces a small smile, eyes dropping down to her plate.
Her mom glances between us, all smiles. “Morning, sleepyheads. I was starting to think you two were hibernating.”
“Long night,” Tessa says, hiding her smirk behind her mug.
Her mom laughs. “You stay up watching movies again?”
“Something like that,” she murmurs, eyes flicking to mine for a second.
The conversation continues when someone mentions the cinnamon rolls, another person asks for the syrup, and I’m thankful her mom doesn’t press further.
I barely hear anything else that is said.
Not when she’s right there, playing innocent while every memory from last night plays out in her mind before my eyes.
When she reaches for the butter, her leg brushes mine again. It’s deliberate this time. My hand tightens around the coffee cup.
Steven comments under his breath to Erica about unwrapping more than just presents, and Tessa’s gaze darts over to meet mine. I fake a grin, although my mind is already somewhere else.
On her, the heat of her leg resting against mine, and the memory of her body beneath me.
Tessa looks at me over the rim of her mug, that same teasing spark flickering in her eyes. One corner of her mouth curves up. It’s subtle, but I can feel it. It’s enough to tell me one thing. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
The room’s loud—kids laughing, plates clattering, someone yelling for more syrup—but I barely hear it. She laughs at something across the table, though her eyes keep coming back to me. That look knocks the breath out of me.
Then Evan slides into the empty chair beside her, and the moment snaps.
His shoulder brushes hers as he reaches for the pepper, close enough that it makes my jaw lock. “Morning, Trouble.” His smug voice is enough for him to already get under my skin.
Tessa’s smile comes too fast. “Morning,” she says, trying to play it off as casual. But I catch the quick flick of her eyes over to me, trying to gauge my reaction.
He leans in again, murmuring something that makes her laugh. It’s fake and forced, and the sound makes my chest tighten. I grip my coffee mug until it’s almost too hot to hold, every muscle coiled tight with the effort not to react.
Evan dips his head closer, his breath near her ear as he jokes about “trouble following her everywhere she goes.” She swats at him playfully, but her eyes meet mine again. There’s a warning there, and something else too—something that dares me to stay in control.
Our gaze holds for a second too long. My pulse is hammering, and all I can think about is the way his hand rests on the back of her chair like he belongs there.
Then my phone buzzes against the table, cutting through the noise. I tear my eyes from hers and glance down, anything to stop myself from doing something I can’t take back.
Coach Sanders: Call me when you can. Merry Christmas.
The words on my phone barely register. Just an excuse to get my head straight.
“Everything alright over there, Clay?” her mom asks, cheerful but nosy in that way our moms can be. “You’ve gone quiet on us.”
I shove the phone into my pocket and force a small smile. “Yeah. Didn’t get much sleep last night, so I’m feelin’ it today.”
She nods, already turning her attention back to the kids. But it’s easier than admitting the truth— that the only thing wrong is sitting across from the girl I’m falling for, trying to pretend nothing’s changed.
I should feel hopeful. It’s the Kolmont coach about the interim position—the shot I’ve been chasing for months. But the thought settles heavily in my chest. Like something I’m supposed to want, but I don’t. Not with her sitting across from me.
As if he can sense it, Evan breaks the silence.
“So, Clay,” he says, voice easy but edged with curiosity, “what are you up to these days now that you’re not playing?”
The harmless question grates on my nerves. Maybe it’s the timing. Perhaps it’s the way his arm still rests along the back of her chair, like he has every right. Or maybe it’s because everyone’s watching and waiting for my answer.
“Just… figuring out the next step,” I say, keeping my tone even.
He nods, leaning forward a little. “You’ll land on your feet, man. Someone like you doesn’t stay out of the game long.”
It’s genuine. I know that much. But it still eats at me. The truth—that I’m up for a coaching job at Kolmont, the same damn school Tessa goes to—sticks in my throat. I can’t get the words out, not with her eyes on me, searching for something I can’t give.
“Yeah,” I say finally, lifting my mug to my lips. “Something like that.”
The coffee scalds my throat, but I welcome the burn. Anything to stop the words I’m not supposed to say from slipping out.
Evan smiles like he’s trying to be encouraging. “You’ll figure it out,” he says, reaching past Tessa for the syrup. His arm grazes her shoulder, and she laughs softly, moving just enough to make space.
He says something else, something stupid, and she laughs again. Louder this time. He eats it up, leaning closer, eyes locked on her mouth. I can’t call him out without giving us away, and that makes it worse.
Before I can make an excuse to leave, someone shouts from the living room that it’s time for presents. The kids drop their forks on their empty plates in a hurry, and everyone follows. I hang back, but somehow end up on the couch.
Tessa sits across the room beside Evan, coffee mug in hand, legs tucked beneath her.
She looks happy and at peace around her family.
If you didn’t know better, you’d never guess what happened between us last night.
But I know. I remember every second of it.
The way she looked standing in my doorway, the sound of my name slipping out of her mouth as she begged me. It’s all I can think about.
Evan slides a small wrapped box across to her, his grin easy. “Picked this up at the market downtown,” he says, like it’s no big deal.
Tessa blinks, caught off guard. “For me?” she asks, her voice a little too light, like she’s trying to play it off.
He nods. “Go on. Open it.”
She hesitates, unwrapping it slowly, like she’s trying to buy herself time. When she lifts the lid, a thin silver bracelet glints against the tissue paper.
“Oh,” she breathes, eyes flicking up to him, then around the room. “It’s… beautiful.”
Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. There’s a mix of surprise and something else there. Guilt maybe. Because she hadn’t gotten him anything. Because she didn’t think to get him anything.
Evan leans closer, lowering his voice. “Thought of you when I saw it. Couldn’t help myself.”
The harmless words are probably meant to be sweet, but they twist something tight in my chest. She blushes, fingers brushing the bracelet, her eyes darting up then down like she doesn’t know what to say. And I can’t look anywhere else.
My thumb brushes over the phone in my pocket, remembering the message waiting for me. Kolmont. The place where it all started—where I played, where they still know my name. It could be a clean slate. Maybe even the fresh start I need.
But all I can see is the way the light hits the bracelet on her wrist—and the memory of last night.
Her standing in my doorway, wearing only red lace, whispering Merry Christmas like it meant more than it should.
That was her gift. Herself. And now, she’s across the room pretending it never happened.
I shift in my seat, trying to focus on anything else. Evan continues to lean in close, talking low, his grin easy. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does. The way he looks at her. The way she doesn’t quite know where to look.
It should make me walk away. Put space between us before I lose it. But I don’t move. Not while she’s sitting there trying to keep it together. Not while he’s talking to her like he still knows her.
And maybe he does.
That thought lands hard. I’ve been too caught up in what’s between us to think about what came before me. It was easy to forget when we were snowed in together deep in the woods. We could pretend the world outside didn’t exist.
He loved her once. Maybe that part of him never really let go. Maybe part of her hasn’t either.
But I get it. She’s not the kind of woman you just stop loving.
Tessa glances up and meets my eyes for a second, then looks away. Guilt flashes across her face before she forces a laugh at something Evan says.
Someone hands me a present, but I barely notice. My mind’s spinning.
If I take the job at Kolmont, what happens then? She’s still in school. Still figuring herself out. And me? I’m already in too deep.
“Clay,” my mom says from across the room. “Aren’t you going to open your gift?”
I glance down at the box in my hands, then set it on the table. “I will,” I tell her, pulling out my phone like I just got an important message.
Across the room, Tessa’s talking to Evan, but I can tell she’s distracted and listening to our conversation.
The noise picks back up as the kids continue to tear into their gifts. Steven and Evan yell at the football game on TV. I push my chair back, the sound cutting through it all.
“Excuse me for a minute,” I mutter, standing before anyone can stop me. The phone digs into my hand as I walk out.
I can feel Tessa’s eyes on me as I move toward the door, heat crawling up my neck. My phone buzzes—a text from Liam wishing me a Merry Christmas—and I take it as my chance to step away.
But all I can think about is her and how the last few days changed everything, even if I’m not ready to admit it out loud.