Chapter Fourteen — Rhett #2
Not hurt.
Angry.
On my behalf.
That was somehow worse.
“He said that?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And I didn’t hit him.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“Do you want praise?”
“Desperately.”
“You should not hit people.”
“He was on skates.”
“That does not improve it.”
“It changes the physics.”
She stared.
Then laughed.
The tension broke.
I smiled.
“There she is.”
Her laughter faded.
“But it bothered you.”
“Yes.”
“Because it was insulting?”
“Because I’m afraid you think it too.”
The truth came out before I could soften it.
Tessa went still.
So did I.
No joke followed.
No one rescued me.
Good.
She looked down.
Then back at me.
“I did.”
My chest tightened.
“Past tense?”
“Yes.”
That single word changed everything.
Tessa stepped closer again.
Not touching.
Not yet.
“You kept showing up,” she said. “Even when nobody was watching.”
I swallowed.
The hallway suddenly felt too public.
“What do you think now?”
She looked at me for a long time.
“I think you’re still figuring out who you want to be.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It isn’t.”
Her voice softened.
“I think you care more than you let people see.”
My pulse climbed.
“And?”
“And I think temporary things don’t usually scare people this much.”
That one landed directly in my chest.
I glanced around.
Too many people.
Too many eyes.
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere without an audience.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Dangerous phrasing.”
“Trust me.”
She did.
That was the miracle.
I took her through the equipment corridor and down the narrow stairwell behind the team offices.
At the bottom was a storage hallway nobody used during games.
Quiet.
Concrete walls.
One flickering light.
Not romantic.
Private.
I shut the door behind us.
Tessa looked around.
“This is your idea of atmosphere?”
“I panicked.”
Her mouth curved.
“Again?”
“Recurring issue.”
The smile faded slowly.
The silence became charged.
No cameras.
No teammates.
No father.
Just us.
Tessa leaned against the wall.
“You played well.”
“You came.”
“You asked.”
“I didn’t.”
“You gave me the ticket.”
“Strong implication.”
She looked down at the jacket.
“You like this too much.”
“It has my name on it.”
“That is why you like it.”
“It has you in it.”
Her gaze snapped to mine.
Too much.
Maybe.
I stepped closer anyway.
Not touching.
“I meant what I said yesterday.”
“Which part?”
“That I want a real chance.”
Her breath changed.
“We had one date.”
“Successful.”
“We fell.”
“Together.”
“You brought emergency stain remover.”
“Prepared.”
“You asked Paige for my skate size.”
“Research.”
She tried not to smile.
Failed.
I moved one step closer.
Tessa’s back touched the wall.
Not trapped.
She could leave.
I made sure she knew it.
“Are we still under review?” I asked.
Her eyes dropped to my mouth.
“Potentially.”
“That sounds vague.”
“You taught me.”
“Terrible influence.”
“Historically.”
I lifted one hand.
Stopped near her face.
Waited.
Tessa leaned into the touch before I reached her.
That tiny movement nearly destroyed me.
My palm settled against her cheek.
Warm.
Soft.
Real.
“Can I kiss you?” I asked.
Her eyes lifted.
There was something almost amused in them.
“You’ve kissed me several times.”
“Not after a game-winning goal.”
“That changes consent?”
“No.”
My thumb brushed lightly over her cheek.
“It changes how badly I want to.”
Her lips parted.
The honesty startled both of us.
Then she said, “Yes.”
I kissed her.
Not carefully.
Not recklessly either.
But with every emotion I had spent three periods holding back.
Her hands caught my jacket.
Pulled me closer.
The world narrowed to her mouth.
Her breath.
The sound she made when I deepened the kiss.
My hand moved from her cheek to her waist.
Stopped there.
Tessa leaned into me.
That was all the permission I needed to keep kissing her.
Not more.
Just longer.
When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing too hard.
Her forehead rested against mine.
“That,” she said, “was definitely not for publicity.”
I laughed softly.
“No.”
“Good.”
I kissed the corner of her mouth.
“Good?”
She caught my tie and pulled me back.
“Do not make me repeat myself.”
“Yes, boss.”
She kissed me again.
Shorter.
Still enough to make the entire season feel less important.
When she released me, I stayed close.
“Tomorrow,” I said.
“What about it?”
“Dinner.”
“We already had a date.”
“Renewal.”
“You’re assuming approval.”
“I’m optimistic.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“It should be.”
Tessa looked at me.
Then smiled.
“Tomorrow.”
My chest loosened.
“Tomorrow?”
“One more date.”
“One.”
“Under review.”
“Renewable.”
“Potentially.”
I grinned.
She narrowed her eyes.
“Do not look that pleased.”
“Impossible.”
The hallway door opened.
Coach Mercer stood there.
Tessa and I jumped apart.
Not far enough to look innocent.
Coach’s gaze moved between us.
My crooked tie.
Tessa’s flushed face.
The jacket.
Then he looked at me.
“Media room. Now.”
“Yes, Coach.”
He looked at Tessa.
“Good game?”
Her composure returned with terrifying speed.
“Very.”
Coach nodded.
Then walked away.
I waited until the door shut.
Tessa covered her face.
“I am transferring.”
“He’s seen worse.”
“That does not help.”
“He likes you.”
“He threatened you with stairs because of me.”
“He threatens everyone with stairs.”
She lowered her hands.
I adjusted my tie again.
Poorly.
Tessa stepped forward and fixed it.
Again.
This time, her fingers lingered.
“You should go.”
“I should.”
Neither of us moved.
“Tomorrow,” I said.
She nodded.
“Tomorrow.”
I opened the door.
Then looked back.
Tessa stood beneath the flickering hallway light wearing my jacket and the expression of a woman who had not yet decided whether I was a good decision.
For once, I did not need the answer immediately.
Because she was still here.
Still choosing the next date.
Still looking at me like temporary might no longer fit.
And after years of treating everything like it could end without consequence, I finally understood the risk.
I had something to lose now.
Her.