Chapter Thirty
Tessa
The sound of a drawer sliding shut pulls me from sleep.
For a few seconds, I keep my eyes closed, trying to hold that warmth from the night before.
I roll over, stretching under the covers.
The room is dim except for the gray morning light sneaking through the blinds, slicing across the bare walls and the stack of unopened boxes in the corner.
Clay moves across the room, already dressed in a pair of dark denim jeans that fit him like a glove and a team pullover. His hair is still damp from the shower I’m assuming he took this morning, considering the sweat we worked up before we finally crashed last night.
“Morning,” I mumble, my voice rough with sleep.
He glances over his shoulder and smiles. “Hey, Sug. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” I lie, pushing up on one elbow. “What time is it?”
“Little after six.” He adjusts his sleeve, checking his watch. “I’m going to head in early to watch a film before an early skate with the guys. I was planning to wake you before I left, though. Wanted to make sure you were up in time for class.”
“Mmm,” I hum, already sinking back into the pillow. “Now you’re starting to sound like my dad.”
He laughs under his breath. “If that’s the case, then I’m doing something wrong.”
When he leans down to grab his bag, I reach out and catch his wrist. “Come here.”
He bends closer, and I press my lips to his, slow and soft. His hand settles against the side of my neck, thumb tracing my jaw before he pulls away.
“Stay as long as you want,” he murmurs. “Just don’t forget to grab the key I left by your phone on the counter and lock up after you. You should probably check your notifications, though...”
That wakes me up a little. “What?”
He nods toward the kitchen. “It’s on the counter. Wouldn’t stop buzzing. Figured you forgot to plug it in last night.”
I groan quietly, rubbing my eyes. “Great.”
He chuckles, straightening. “I’m heading out. Coffee’s ready. You just have to hit the switch.”
I sit up a little, blanket slipping down my chest. “You sure you can’t stay for breakfast?”
He pauses mid-step, eyes dragging over me in a way that makes heat crawl up my neck. “You asking if I want breakfast… or are you the breakfast?”
I smirk, tugging the blanket to the side, spreading my legs open. “Depends. You hungry?”
His jaw tightens, that low sound in his throat giving him away before the smile does. “Don’t start, Sug.”
“What? What did I do?” I tease even though we both know I don’t have to.
He exhales, muttering a curse under his breath as he slings his duffel over his shoulder. “There’s a sandwich in the fridge for you. Figured if I didn’t make it, you’d forget to eat.”
“Such a gentleman.” I grin.
He leans down, his mouth brushing the edge of my smile before he pulls back. “Trust me, if I weren’t running behind, you’d be breakfast.”
I laugh softly, watching him back toward the door. “Go,” I say. “Before you give the team something else to chirp about.”
“Too late,” he calls over his shoulder, flashing that grin that ruins me every time.
I nod even though my body’s already begging me to crawl back under the blanket.
“Good,” he says, then steps close again, dropping a quick kiss on my lips. “See you later.”
“Bye, Coach.”
He shakes his head with a quiet laugh. “Don’t start.”
When the door closes behind him, the apartment goes still. I stay in bed for another minute, staring at the ceiling, before I drag my body up to get myself a cup. I tug on one of his sweatshirts and pad barefoot into the kitchen.
I flip on the coffee machine, waiting for it to gurgle to life, and plug in my phone. It immediately lights up, buzzing against the counter. My stomach twists when I see the screen fill with notifications—missed calls, texts, and a handful of voicemails.
Several from Steven and my parents, a few from friends, including Summer checking in, and another from a number I don’t recognize.
I swipe my thumb over the screen, but don’t open anything yet. I can already imagine what it’s about.
And the thought that Clay probably saw the screen lighting up before he left makes my chest tighten. He didn’t say anything, but I know him. It makes me wonder if he’s heard from his parents or his brother, and if he’s spoken to them yet.
The coffee beeps. I pour a mug, take a sip, and grab the leftover breakfast sandwich from the fridge to pop in the microwave. The hum and smell of it heating give me something to focus on besides the pit in my stomach.
Halfway through my second bite, my phone starts buzzing again. I glance down and see Steven flashing across the screen.
“Hey,” I say, keeping my tone even.
“Well, look who finally decided to answer,” he drawls. “You forget you have a brother, or are you too busy running plays with the coach?”
I groan, pressing my fingers against my temple. “You’ve been sitting on that one, haven’t you?”
“Maybe,” he says, his voice full of smug satisfaction. “You’re all over my feed, Tess. I had to hear about your big secret romance from some reporter with bad hair. What the hell?”
I sigh. “It’s not exactly how I wanted you to find out.”
“Clearly.” He pauses, the humor giving way to something softer. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on? I’d rather hear it from you anyway.”
I take a sip of coffee to buy time, but he waits. He always waits.
“It’s not what people think,” I say finally. “It’s not some scandal or anything. We’ve known Clay forever. You know that. It’s just one of those things that sort of… happened.”
Steven hums, skeptical but not cruel. “Just happened? You don’t just happen to start hooking up with your family friend. I mean, I’ve always known about your little crush on him, but c’mon, Tess—start from the top.”
My face heats, and I let out a short laugh. “You sound like Mom.”
I hadn’t even realized he noticed my crush on Clay. It makes me wonder what else I hadn’t noticed.
“Good,” he says. “Maybe you’ll actually answer me, then.”
I exhale, leaning against the counter. “It started at Christmas three years ago. We kissed. It wasn’t much at first, and we both played it off like it didn’t happen after,” I admit. “But then we got snowed in together on the way back home and things just kind of... happened.”
“So… you kissed him,” he says, voice even.
“Yeah,” I admit, smiling a little. “We kissed.”
He lets out a low whistle. “Okay, that explains a lot. Was that before or after the blizzard?”
“During,” I say, unable to stop the small laugh that slips out. “We got snowed in together. It wasn’t planned—it just forced everything out in the open. We fought it for a while and pretended it didn’t mean anything. But it did.”
Steven doesn’t interrupt this time, which surprises me. He just lets me talk.
“It’s not like it was with Evan,” I say after a pause. “With him, it always felt like we were playing parts we didn’t fit. Everyone kept saying we made sense, and I guess we just… went along with it. But we were never really right for each other. We just kind of got pushed into it.”
“Yeah,” he says, his tone softer now. “That’s what I never got.
You and Evan always felt like someone else’s idea of a couple.
I mean, I knew you had a crush on Clay. He was older, though, so it’s not like I thought anything would actually happen.
But still, when you started dating Evan, it threw me. ”
That earns a chuckle from me. “Yeah, well… you weren’t wrong.”
He pauses. “So this thing with Clay. It’s not like a rebound, is it?”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see it. “No, Steven. It’s not a rebound. I know what it looks like, but I also know what it feels like. And I’m done letting everyone else decide what’s right for me.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end, and when he speaks again, his voice is gentler. “Guess that’s my cue to feel a little guilty, huh?”
“Why would you feel guilty?”
“Because you’re my little sister,” he says simply. “And I should’ve noticed you were just… doing what people expected. I didn’t push it, but I didn’t stop it either. You deserve better than that.”
My throat tightens. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Steven. No sense in putting that on you.”
“I’m serious, Tess,” he says, that protective edge creeping in. “You’ve always known who you are. You don’t fake it. You don’t play games. I’ve always admired that about you. So if this thing with Clay makes you happy, then go for it. Screw what everyone else thinks.”
The words catch me off guard, but not in a bad way. It’s been a long time since we’ve talked like this, and I didn’t realize how much I needed it.
“Thanks, Steven.”
“Don’t thank me,” he says, his tone lightening again. “Just… don’t make me have to beat the crap out of him if he screws it up.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “He won’t.”
“Good. Because we both know he’d hand me my ass, and I don’t want to have to admit that I don’t have it like I used to.”
It’s quiet, but it’s not the uneasy kind. It’s the kind that says we’re okay.
Then his voice changes, a little more hesitant now. “You talk to Mom yet?”
I freeze mid-sip. “Not yet.”
“Why not?”
I stare down at the counter, at the swirl of steam rising from my coffee. “Because I don’t know how she’s going to take it. I don’t want to listen to the lecture before she even hears me out.”
“Give her the benefit of the doubt,” he says gently. “You know how she is. She worries first, then she listens. Just tell her the truth. She wants you to be happy, Tess. She always has. Who knows, maybe she’ll surprise you.”
I nod, even though he can’t see it. “Maybe.”
“Not maybe,” he says. “Definitely. You’re her kid. She’ll get there, I promise.”
A small smile tugs at my mouth. “When did you get so wise?”
“I’m not,” he says. “I just get a front-row seat to the chaos.”
That pulls a real laugh out of me. “You’re such a pain.”
“Yet still your favorite sibling.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re my only sibling.”
“Exactly,” he says, smug.
“Anyway,” he says, “I’ll stop giving you a hard time. You heading to class?”
“Yeah, I should probably finish getting ready.”
“Good. Don’t let the media circus make you late. And tell Coach to unpack those boxes—I hear his place still looks like a damn storage unit.”
“Goodbye, Steven.”
He chuckles. “Bye, Sis.”
The line clicks off, and I stare at my phone for a second before setting it down beside the sandwich I’d forgotten about.
I glance around Clay’s nearly empty apartment, sunlight starting to creep across the floor.
It’s quiet again. Peaceful.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for something to fall apart.
I rinse out my mug and stack it in the sink, glancing at the clock. I still have time before class, but my brain’s too busy replaying Steven’s words to focus on anything else. It feels like a weight’s been lifted—at least from one part of my life.
Before I can overthink it, I grab my phone and open a new message from Clay.
Clay: Coach Sanders didn’t even show up for film. Starting to think I should’ve stayed in bed with you instead.
Me: You should’ve. I would’ve skipped class for that.
Clay: Don't tempt me. I'm already half tempted to blow off the rest of practice. How's your morning?
Me: Good. Just survived telling my brother. One awkward conversation down.
I drop the phone on the counter and go about stuffing books into my bag. It buzzes before I’m done.
Clay: How’d it go?
I smile at the screen, thumbs moving before I can stop them.
Me: Better than I thought. He asked a million questions, but he was supportive. Shocked, but supportive.
A typing bubble appears, disappears, then comes back.
Clay: That’s good. I was wondering if you’d heard from him.
Clay: I had my own version of that conversation this morning.
My eyebrows lift.
Me: With who?
Clay: My mom. Called her on the drive to practice.
I lean against the counter, reading that twice before replying.
Me: How’d that go?
There’s a pause before his next message comes through.
Clay: About like you’d expect. She was surprised. Mostly worried about what people will say, and about Evan.
I chew my lip, the same knot from last night tightening in my stomach.
Me: Yeah… I’ve been worried about that too. What he’ll say and how he’ll react.
The typing bubble pops up again almost immediately.
Clay: Don’t. Let me handle that. I know my brother. He’ll eventually come around.
I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. He means it. He always does when he says things like that. It’s not about control. It’s about him trying to carry the weight so I don’t have to.
Me: You don’t have to fix everything, you know.
Clay: Maybe not. But when it comes to you, I want to make sure you’re okay.
Clay: Don’t stress about Evan. I’ve got it handled.
The corner of my mouth lifts despite the tension in my chest.
Me: So what’s your plan after practice? I was thinking I might stop by my dorm and do some laundry, and grab some clothes.
A minute passes before his reply comes through.
Clay: Actually… I made plans for us tonight.
I blink.
Me: Plans? What kind of plans?
Clay: The kind where we don’t have to hide. I’m taking you out.
My fingers freeze above the keyboard.
Me: Like… a date?
Clay: Yeah. A real one. Not some late-night dinner or behind closed doors. Just you and me, going out.
A slow warmth spreads through my chest before I can stop it.
Me: You sure that’s a good idea right now?
Clay: I’m not letting anyone or anything stop us from living our lives.
I laugh under my breath, the sound cutting through the quiet apartment.
Me: You don’t give up, do you?
Clay: Never have. Especially not with you. Be ready at seven.
Me: You’re not telling me where we’re going, are you?
Clay: Not a chance. Wear something casual.
I bite back a smile, rereading the messages before setting my phone down. For once, it doesn’t feel like the weight of everyone else’s opinions matters more than what’s right in front of me.
Maybe tonight doesn’t have to be complicated. Perhaps it can just be ours.
I grab my bag, slip on my coat, and head for the door with a grin I can’t quite shake.