10. Zane
Chapter 10
Zane
I 'm still staring at myself in the bathroom mirror several minutes after washing my hands, Tessa’s words echoing in my head. Just possibilities .
The ghost of her touch lingers on my skin, driving me crazy. With a growl of frustration, I yank off my tie and unbutton my shirt. The mark she left on my neck stands out against my skin—a reminder that she's getting under my defenses in more ways than one.
I grab the sweater I brought to my parents’ house to change into. It’s not often I take a meeting on a weekend, but if it is with an old family friend in the suburbs, that also gives me the excuse to pop in and see my parents.
My phone buzzes and it’s Asher.
"What?" I snap, answering it.
"Well, hello to you too, sunshine," he drawls. "Bad night?”
"What do you want?"
"Can't a guy check on his brother? Especially when said brother was seen leaving a certain bakery very late last night…"
I grip the counter. "Are you having me followed?"
"Please. Ivy saw your car when she drove by. Said you looked… disheveled."
"I'm hanging up now."
"Wait!" He laughs. "Seriously though—what are you doing, Zane?"
I close my eyes, remembering how Tessa looked spread across her desk. How she felt in my arms. How she sees right through every wall I've built.
"I don't know," I finally admit.
"Yes, you do. You're just too scared to admit it."
"I'm not scared."
"No? Then why are you fighting this so hard?"
"Because—" I cut myself off, running a hand through my hair.
"Because what? Because she actually sees the real you? Because she's not intimidated by your bullshit act?"
"Because I'll fuck it up!" The words explode out of me. "I always do. I don't know how to…" I trail off.
"How to what? Love someone?"
"Don't."
"Fine." He sighs. "But for what it's worth? I think you're already in love with her. Have been since high school."
“I’m at Mom and Dad’s. I don’t have time for your stupid fantasies. I gotta go.”
I hang up before he can say more, but his words follow me as I pour myself a drink at the bar and head into the kitchen. The bourbon burns going down, but it doesn't quiet the thoughts in my head.
My mother's kitchen hasn't changed since I was a boy—still warm with the scent of apple cinnamon candles, still filled with the copper pots she refuses to replace, still the one place I feel completely relaxed.
"You're distracted," my mother notes, sliding a cup of tea across the marble island. "Would it have anything to do with a certain blond young lady?"
I run my finger along the rim of my cup, placing the bourbon to the side. "How do you always know?"
"The same way I knew when you rescued that cat in high school." Her eyes twinkle. "A mother sees past the walls her children build."
“Or could it be a younger brother spilling my personal life to you?” I give her a knowing look that makes her smile.
“He just wants the best for you; we all do. But I don’t need Asher to tell me that you’re clearly hung up on someone.”
"I wasn't very good at hiding things from you."
"No." She sits beside me, her presence as comforting now as it was when I was young. "Just like you're not very good at hiding how you feel about Tessa."
The name hangs between us.
"It's different with her," I admit quietly. "She sees past all my defenses. Makes me want to be… more."
"You've always been more," my mother says softly, pulling out an old photo album. She flips to a familiar image—me with the stray cat I'd hidden in my room. "Remember this? You convinced the entire household to help keep Willow a secret until you knew she'd be welcomed."
"You knew the whole time, didn't you?"
"Of course I did." She smiles. "Just like I knew you'd find someone who sees you the way I do—someone who understands that beneath all that carefully crafted control is a heart that cares deeply."
I think of Tessa's face when I mentioned the shelter plans. How she saw possibility where others saw risk. How she makes me want to embrace the parts of myself I usually keep hidden.
"She makes me better," I say. "Braver."
"Love does that." My mother touches my cheek—the same gesture from childhood, grounding me. "It shows us who we really are. Who we can be."
"I’m not sure I’m ready to admit that I love her," I confess, the words feeling both terrifying and freeing. “Or maybe it’s that I don’t know if I do.”
"I know." Her eyes are bright with happy tears. "I always saw the way you looked at her. The same way you used to look at possibilities—like they're both thrilling and terrifying at the same time."
We sit in comfortable silence, drinking tea as we enjoy the silence. Finally, my mother speaks again.
"You know what makes me happiest?" She squeezes my hand. "Seeing you finally let someone in. Really in."
I think of Tessa's laugh, her determination, her ability to see good in everything—even me. I don’t have to correct my mom that I’m doing everything I can to keep Tessa out, to not let her in. She already knows that. This is her way of telling me that eventually I’ll pull my head out of my ass and see it her way.
"She makes it easy," I whisper, "being myself with her… It just feels right."
My phone buzzes with a text from Tessa, making me smile automatically. My mother watches me with knowing eyes.
"That's how love should be," she says softly. "Natural. Easy. Like finding a piece of yourself you didn't know was missing."
When I leave later that evening, my mother hugs me tight. "Bring her for Sunday dinner sometime," she says. "Your father's been asking when he'll get to know her better."
I smile, thinking of how naturally Tessa would fit into our family. "Someday.” I offer my mom, giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek before walking out to my car.
My mom’s words linger, marinating in my head, a memory of being an angsty teenager flashing through my mind as I drive home.
“Not me.” I scrunch my face at my mom’s sentiment regarding marriage. “I’m never getting married.”
“Your father said the same thing at your age.” She smiles, glancing over at my dad who winks at her.
“You did?” I ask him.
“Oh yeah,” he says, reaching out to take my mom’s hand and twirl her around the kitchen, “but then I met this little lady and that all went out the window.”
“Gross,” I mutter, my dad nuzzling his nose against my mom’s neck, making her giggle.
“Trust me, son,” he says, looking at my mom like she’s a brand-new Corvette. “Someday you’re going to meet a woman and you’re going to trip and stumble all over yourself trying not to screw it up but she won’t let you. She’ll be there with you every step of the way and you’ll realize that everything you’ve been fighting is exactly what you wanted; you just didn’t realize it.”
“And that’s a good thing?” I scratch my head in confusion, not fully understanding what it is my dad is saying.
“Of course it is. Because some loves don't just change us, Zane. They complete us. They make us whole in ways we never knew we needed.”
I grip the steering wheel tighter. The city skyline comes into view as I make my way back downtown, my dad’s words echoing through my head from years ago making me question everything I thought I wanted.
I swipe my thumb across my screen to read the text from Tessa.
Tessa
Still thinking about possibilities…
I stare at the message, thumb hovering over the keys. Finally, I type.
Me
Dangerous territory, Miss Marlow.
Her response is immediate.
Tessa
You keep saying that like it's a bad thing. Maybe dangerous is exactly what you need.
Before I can respond, another message comes through.
Tessa
I'm at June’s Coffee Corner on Michigan Ave. The one with the view of the lake across from the LEGO store. Join me?
I should say no. Should maintain professional distance. There’s that word again… should.
Me
Fifteen minutes.
The drive gives me time to question my sanity, but not enough time to change my mind. When I walk into the coffee shop, she's by the window, wearing a cream sweater that makes her skin glow. Those damn glasses are perched on her nose as she reads something on her laptop.
"Working on a Saturday?" I ask, sliding into the seat across from her.
She looks up, smiling. "Just reviewing some vendor contracts. Want to check my math?"
"Careful," I warn, but I'm fighting a smile. "That's how we got into trouble last time."
"Trouble?" She raises an eyebrow. "Is that what you call it?"
"With you? Yes."
"Relax." She closes her laptop. "I didn't ask you here to seduce you with spreadsheets. Though I could if you want…"
"Why did you ask me here?"
She takes a sip of her coffee, studying me over the rim. "Because I like spending time with you. Even when you're being difficult."
"I'm not being difficult."
"No? Then why are you sitting all the way over there?"
I glance down, realizing I've pushed my chair as far back as possible. With a muttered curse, I lean forward.
"Better?" I ask dryly.
"Much." She props her chin on her hand. "Now, are you going to tell me what's really bothering you?"
"Nothing's bothering me."
"Liar." She reaches across the table, touching my hand. "Talk to me, Zane. Please."
The genuine concern in her voice breaks something in me.
"I don't know how to do this," I admit roughly. "Any of it."
"Do what?"
"This. Us. Whatever this is." I gesture between us. "I don't do relationships, Tessa. I don't do… feelings. I have in the past and I got burned or the other person got burned. The only thing I know how to prioritize is work.”
"But you feel something," she presses gently. "Don't you?"
I stare at our hands, still touching. "Yes," I whisper.
"Then that's enough." She squeezes my fingers. "We can figure out the rest together."
"It's not that simple."
"Why not?"
I pull my hand back, running it through my hair. "Because I'll ruin it. I'll ruin you."
"I'm stronger than you think."
"It's not about strength." I meet her eyes. "It's about… I don't know how to be what you need."
"I need you to be honest with me," she says simply. "That's all. Just… real."
"Real," I repeat, testing the word. "I can try."
Her smile is like sunshine breaking through clouds. "That's all I'm asking for."
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, watching snow fall outside. Finally, I ask, "So, these vendor contracts…"
She laughs, bright and genuine. "Really? That's what you want to talk about?"
"No," I admit, "but it's safer than what I actually want to say.”
"Which is?"
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to meet her eyes. "That you terrify me. That I think about you constantly. That I…" I trail off.
"That you what?" she whispers.
"That I want to try. With you. Even though it scares the hell out of me."
She stands suddenly, gathering her things.
"What are you doing?"
"We're going for a walk," she announces, "in the snow. Because if we stay here, I'm going to kiss you in front of all these people, and something tells me you're not ready for that kind of public display."
I laugh despite myself, following her outside. The moment we're clear of the coffee shop, she grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together.
"See?" she says softly. "Baby steps."
And as we walk through the falling snow, her hand warm in mine, I think maybe—just maybe—I can learn to do this after all.
Baby steps indeed.
The snow continues to fall as we walk, her gloved hand warm in mine. Every few steps she glances up at me, that dangerous smile playing at her lips like she knows exactly what she's doing to me.
"You're staring," she notes, bumping her shoulder against my arm.
"Can't help it." I pull her closer as a gust of wind whips past us. "You make it impossible not to."
"Look who's being sweet now."
"Don't get used to it." But we both know I'm lying. Something about her makes me want to be… different. Better maybe.
We end up at my favorite hidden spot along the lake, a secluded bench partially sheltered by trees. I brush off the snow and pull her down beside me.
"I used to come here," I admit, watching the waves crash against the shore, "when the expectations felt too heavy. When I needed to remember who I was beyond the Mercer name."
She stays quiet, giving me space to continue. Her thumb traces circles on my palm, encouraging.
"Everyone's always expected me to be exactly like my father. Take over the long-standing insurance business, run it his way, make the same choices, be on the city council." I shake my head. "But I wanted to do things differently. Build something of my own."
"So you built walls instead," she says softly. "Kept everyone at a distance so they couldn't judge how you chose to do things."
I look at her sharply. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"See right through me. Like those walls don't even exist."
She turns to face me, snow catching in her lashes. "Because I've always seen you, Zane. The real you. Even in high school, when you were trying so hard to be the bad boy, I saw past it."
"To what?"
"To this." She places her hand over my heart. "To the man who helps local businesses even while pretending to be cynical about it. Who makes sure his employees have the best benefits in the industry. Who built this company into something even bigger than anyone ever imagined, but in your own way."
I catch her hand, holding it against my chest. "Most people just see the ruthless businessman or the past party guy who was an asshole and a womanizer.”
"I'm not most people." She smiles softly. "I see how much you care, even when you try to hide it."
"You make me want to stop hiding," I admit roughly, "and that terrifies me."
"Why?"
"Because what if being myself isn't enough? What if I let these walls down and you don't like what you find?"
She rises onto her knees on the bench, framing my face with her hands. "Impossible."
"Tessa—"
"No, listen to me." Her eyes are fierce behind those glasses. "I've spent years watching you hide behind those walls. Years wanting to show you that you don't have to. That you're enough exactly as you are."
I lean forward, resting my forehead against hers. "I don't deserve you."
"Good thing that's not your decision to make." She kisses me softly. "I choose you, Zane Mercer. Walls and all."
The kiss deepens as snow swirls around us. When we finally break apart, I press my forehead gently against hers.
"Come home with me," I whisper against her lips.
"I thought you wanted to take things slow?"
"I do." I kiss her again, unable to help myself. "But I also want to warm you up properly."
She laughs. "Smooth talker."
"Only for you, baby girl." I stand, pulling her up with me.
Once we’re back at my place, I resist the urge to drag her upstairs. Instead, I crack open a bottle of wine and both of us settle in the living room with a fresh glass. She curls into my side on the couch, her presence both soothing and unsettling in how right it feels. The city lights cast a soft glow across her features as she looks up at me.
"Tell me something," she says quietly. "Why did you skip so much school back then? The whole bad boy thing…"
I tense, taking a long drink of wine to buy time. The truth to that answer feels dangerous. Not because I did anything but because of how stupid it all was.
"Would you believe insecurity?" The words feel rusty, unused.
"You?" She props herself up to look at me, those blue eyes seeing too much as always. "But you were always so confident."
"Fake confidence." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "I wasn't like Asher—natural at sports, easy with people. I was good at numbers, got bored in class. It was easier to push people away than let them see that."
"So you became the rebel instead?"
"Pretty pathetic, right?" My fingers trace patterns on her arm, needing the connection. "I've actually gone back, you know. Apologized to my old teachers for being such a pain in their ass."
Something in my chest loosens when she doesn't laugh. Instead, she asks softly, "Really?"
"Mrs. Henderson actually cried. Said she always knew there was more to me than my attitude." I swallow hard, remembering.
She hesitates, and I already know what's coming. "What about college? I heard you got kicked out?"
My chest rumbles with dark amusement. "Deserved it too. Was running quite the little enterprise—taking tests, writing papers. Anything for a price."
"Always the businessman," she teases gently, no judgment in her voice.
"More like always the hustler. Some of my early ventures weren't exactly aboveboard." I pull her closer, waiting for her to pull away. She doesn't. "I’m not proud of it now."
"But it led you here," she says softly, "to who you are today."
My arms tighten around her instinctively. "There you go again, doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Seeing the good in everything. In me."
She rises up to kiss me softly, and something inside me breaks and mends all at once. "Because it's always been there. Behind all those walls you built."
I kiss her deeply, trying to pour everything I can't say into it. Because how do you put into words the way a person makes you feel? The way they see past every defense you've built? That they make you believe in second chances?
Instead, I pull her closer, letting her presence quiet the ghosts of who I used to be. Because sometimes the hardest walls to break are the ones we build ourselves.
And somehow, Tessa Marlow has crashed through every single one.
Later, as I watch her sleep in my bed, her hair spread across my pillow, it feels like I’m becoming someone else, someone new. As if letting her in is like finding parts of myself I forgot existed.
My phone buzzes with a text from Asher but I ignore it. Instead, I pull Tessa closer, breathing in her vanilla scent as she stirs awake against me.
"Still thinking too loud," she murmurs sleepily.
"Go back to sleep." I kiss her temple. "I've got you."
And as snow blankets the city, as night wraps around us like a cocoon, I start to believe that she’s got me too.