Chapter Thirty-Three
Clay ~ Two Months Later
The sun is low by the time I pull into the lot outside the apartment. My head’s still back at practice. I don’t bother turning the truck off right away. Just sit there, phone in hand, pretending I’m not about to check her location again.
Home.
That’s how it’s saved now. Not “Tessa’s dorm” or “Kolmont campus,” just home.
And maybe that’s what it is. She never officially moved in—no lease, no boxes—but over the past two months, her stuff has slowly started showing up. A toothbrush beside mine. Her shoes are by the door. One of her sweatshirts is draped over the couch that she swears she’ll take back, but never does.
She’s made this place feel like something I didn’t realize I’d been missing.
Practice ran late again, the guys dragging after another long week. The playoffs are right around the corner, and for once, we’re going in with momentum. I still can’t quite believe how much has changed since I first joined the team.
Last year, Kolmont barely made it to the post-season and were out after the first round. Everyone expected the same thing this year—maybe worse after one of our top forwards went down midseason. But the team didn’t fold. We adapted and fought hard.
So when Coach Sanders and AD Thompson called me into the office right after practice, I figured it was just another check-in—maybe to discuss the plan going into the playoffs.
Instead, Sanders shut the door, looked me straight in the eye, and said, “You’ve earned it.
” Thompson slid the paperwork across the desk like he wasn’t handing me everything I’ve been fighting for since the day I lost it all.
This isn’t just a title. It’s proof that every late night, every second chance, actually meant something.
I step out of the truck, locking it behind me. The air’s cold and damp, heavy with the smell of rain. I can already picture Tessa curled up on the couch, hair in a messy knot, hands wrapped around one of those oversized mugs she loves, binge-watching something on Netflix.
It hasn’t been easy getting here. After everything that went down—the leak about us, Evan finding out, the headlines that followed—I kept waiting for the fallout to cost me everything I started to rebuild.
The weeks after the story broke, reporters showed up to practice, fishing for anything they could twist into a new headline.
Then our moms showed up at my apartment the next weekend… together.
We knew a couple of phone calls wouldn’t cut it. They wanted answers. Most of them were about Evan—how it went when he showed up here, what it meant for our families, and whether it would ruin the bond between us.
But when they saw us together—really saw us—they stopped asking.
And now, with today’s news, it feels like I can finally breathe. The job’s official. The people who matter most understand, and we made it through.
And I’m more grateful than ever that I came out the other side with Tessa beside me.
I climb the stairs two at a time, the weight in my chest replaced with something lighter.
“Tess?” I call out as I push the door open.
Her laugh drifts from the kitchen. “In here!”
Her scent hits me before I even see her.
It’s warm and sweet, like cinnamon and sugar.
When I step inside, I spot her in the kitchen, hair pulled up, drowning in one of my old Kolmont T-shirts that hangs halfway down her thighs.
There’s flour everywhere—on her hands, smudged across her cheek, dusted over the counter, and even on the floor.
She turns when she hears me, that smile knocking the air out of me.
“Hey, Coach,” she teases. “You look tired.”
I drop my bag by the door, grinning. “You have no idea.”
She wipes her hands on a towel, though it doesn’t do much good, and walks over to wrap her arms around my waist. I glance down and catch another streak of flour now on my shirt, but I don’t care.
“Long day?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “But worth it.”
She leans back just enough to look at me. “Why’s that?”
I pull a folded sheet of paper from my jacket pocket and hand it to her. She takes it, eyebrows furrowed, then her eyes widen as she reads.
Her mouth falls open. “Wait… Clay—”
With a nod, I can’t stop the smile that’s been threatening to break through since practice ended. “It’s official. They offered me the job.”
Her jaw drops, and then she laughs. It’s the same carefree sound I remember from the night of our first date. She throws her arms around me, and I catch her easily, spinning her once before setting her down.
“Clay, that’s incredible,” she says against my chest, her voice thick with emotion. “You did it.”
We did, I think, but I don’t say it out loud.
“It took some convincing,” I admit. “And a hell of a lot of long nights. But we made the playoffs. They saw what we’ve been building here.”
She tilts her head up, smiling through the tears filling the brim of her eyes. “They’d be idiots not to keep you.”
I laugh, tracing my thumb along her cheek. “I don’t know about that. But I’ll take it.”
Her smile softens, her fingers brushing the edge of my sleeve. “You deserve this, Clay. Every bit of it.”
I start to say something, but she shakes her head, stepping in until we’re chest to chest. “And even if they hadn’t,” she adds, “that wouldn’t have changed anything.”
That catches me off guard.
She looks up at me, eyes clear. “If Kolmont hadn’t offered you the job, it just would’ve meant something else was waiting. You’ve always been more than hockey. More than a player. More than a coach.” Her hand rests over my heart. “That’s just the part everyone sees. But it’s not all of you.”
I don’t say anything. What could I possibly say to that?
She gives me a small, knowing smile. “You’re allowed to want this, to love it—but it doesn’t define you. You do.”
I swallow, my voice rough when I manage, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she says simply. “And I’m glad it means you’re staying.” A spark of excitement flickers across her face. “Because I just found out I got into the early education program for next year.”
It takes me a second to catch up. “You did?”
She nods, that grin spreading across her face. “They only take a few people each semester. I figured it might take a while, but I found out I got in.”
“That’s amazing, Sug,” I say, unable to stop my smile.
She shrugs, but her eyes give her away. “It just feels good, you know? Like I’m finally getting somewhere.”
I brush a strand of hair from her face. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “Feels like we both are.”
She tilts her head, teasing. “Maybe things are finally starting to go our way.”
“About time,” I mutter, pulling her in until her laugh hums against my chest. I glance down at her, smiling. “I’m proud of us.”
Her breath catches as I lean in, my mouth finding hers. The kiss starts slow. Her hands slide up to my shoulders, fingers curling in my shirt, holding me against her.
When she finally pulls back, her lips hover against mine, her voice barely a whisper. “You could show me how proud you are.”
That’s all it takes.
I lift her, her laughter slipping out against my ear as her legs lock around my waist. Everything else fades until there’s only her breath and the warmth of her smile against my lips.
Between kisses, I whisper, “I love you.”
She pauses long enough to meet my eyes, the corner of her mouth lifting. “I know,” she says softly. “I love you too.”
I press her back against the wall again, hands sliding down her sides. Her fingers curl into my shirt and tug, pulling me closer. I feel the quiet hitch of her breath when I dip my head, kissing the line of her throat.
“Clay,” she whispers, breathless.
That sound alone is enough to undo me.
I pull back enough to look at her—the flush on her cheeks, the way her eyes have gone heavy with desire, the small tremor in her hands where they rest against my chest. My thumb grazes her jaw, tilting her face back up toward mine.
“Goddamn, I love you so much,” I murmur again, voice rough.
She smiles, the kind that starts small and grows, touching everything. “Then show me.”
I set her on the edge of the counter, flour dusting her thighs, her baking completely forgotten. My hands grip her hips, my breath hot against her neck. “Screw the cookies,” I mutter. “I just want you.”
She lets out a quiet laugh, her breath catching when I kiss her again, deeper this time.
My Sugar.