Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Stella
The library smells like paper and coffee.
Quiet. Controlled. Predictable.
Everything I usually like.
Except nothing about this moment feels controlled.
I see them the second I look up.
Across the room.
Same table. Same proximity.
Same—touch.
Isa’s fingers rest lightly on Tristan’s forearm, like they belong there. Like they’ve always belonged there. She leans in, saying something low, her lips curving into that soft, sweet smile that doesn’t match the sharpness in her eyes.
And him?
He’s listening.
Letting her.
Not pulling away.
My stomach tightens. Hot. Immediate.
T & T.
A couple?
For a second—just a second—I hesitate.
Text him?
Keep it private?
Safe?
I heard about the drama after I left the training room last week. I’m not innocent in this.
None of us are.
And it’s getting complicated. I don’t want to mess up Tristan’s head right as his season starts and I can’t keep fighting my feelings, stuffing them down—when they keep bubbling back up.
“Damn.”
Kane’s voice lands low behind me, close enough that I feel the heat of him at my back.
“You gonna stand here and watch… or you finally gonna play?”
My jaw tightens. I don’t turn.
“I’m not watching.”
He huffs softly.
“Looks like it.”
A beat. Then quieter. Sharper.
“Set. Match point, Stel. You in… or you out?”
That lands exactly where it should.
Because he’s right.
This isn’t practice.
This isn’t theory.
This is the moment.
And I already warned her.
I’m back in the game.
My eyes lock on them again. On her hand. On his arm. On the way he hasn’t moved it.
Something in me clicks.
Clean. Final.
“Watch this,” I murmur.
Then I move.
Each step deliberate.
He feels me before he sees me. I know it.
Because the second I get close—his head lifts.
Eyes lock on mine.
And there it is.
That shift.
That tension snapping tight under his skin.
Good.
I stop at the table.
“Hey,” I say lightly.
Isa looks up first. Her smile is instant—perfect.
“Hey.”
Tristan doesn’t speak.
He just watches me.
Like he’s trying to figure out what I’m about to do.
I glance between them. Then back to him.
“Is there room for me?” I ask.
Polite. Casual. Intentional.
Isa’s fingers tighten slightly on his arm.
But she doesn’t move them.
“Sure,” she replies sweetly.
I don’t wait.
I pull out the chair and sit.
Close.
Not accidental.
My knee brushes his.
Then my foot slides forward.
Light.
Intentional.
Touches his.
Still.
His entire body reacts.
Subtle.
But I feel it.
“What the—” he mutters under his breath.
I don’t acknowledge it.
Just pick up a book from the table like I belong here.
“So,” I say, flipping a page, “what are we working on?”
“History,” Isa answers smoothly before he can.
Her tone is light.
But her eyes?
Watching me.
Carefully.
I nod slowly.
“Yeah… Tristan and I have a lot of that.”
That lands.
I see it.
In both of them.
My gaze slides to him.
Holds.
“In fact,” I continue, voice soft, easy, but layered now, “maybe it’s time we revisited our history… don’t you think?”
His breath catches. Just slightly.
There it is.
I let it sit.
Let it settle.
Let it mean something.
Then I lean back just a fraction, like I didn’t just drop something loaded right in the middle of the table.
“Maybe we should grab a bite,” I add, glancing between them, then back to him, “and talk about it.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Tristan blinks like he’s trying to process what just happened.
Isa moves first.
Her arm slides more firmly through his. Claiming.
“Are you asking us out, Stella?” she asks, sweet, curious, edged.
I meet her gaze.
Hold it.
Then smile.
“No.”
My eyes flick to Tristan.
“Just him.”
A beat.
“But you can tag along,” I add lightly, “for funsies.”
The shift is immediate.
Tristan looks like he just got dropped into the middle of something he doesn’t know how to control.
Isa’s smile tightens—just enough to show she felt that.
And me?
I sit there.
Calm.
Collected.
All in.
Tristan goes still.
Then slowly—deliberately—he removes Isa’s arm from his.
Not rough.
But firm.
Final.
He leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his chest, broad shoulders tightening under his t-shirt, jaw ticking once.
His eyes lock on mine.
Dark. Sharp. Dangerous.
“What game are you playing now, Stella?”
His voice is low.
Controlled.
But there’s something under it.
Something heated.
Something that says he doesn’t trust me.
And worse?
Something that says he’s protecting her.
I tilt my head slightly, studying him like he’s the problem I’m finally ready to solve.
“What, I can’t change my mind?”
His gaze doesn’t waver.
“Not like this.”
A beat.
Then his eyes flick to Isa, softening just a fraction.
And I see it.
The care.
The consideration.
The restraint.
And something inside me tightens.
He looks back at me.
“Or is this about the fact that I moved on?” he adds, quieter now, sharper. “With someone… like you?”
There’s a pause.
Then, almost mockingly—
“‘Someone Like You,’ right?” he says, a corner of his mouth lifting. “That on repeat? Someone Like You on your playlist, Stell? Listening to old Adele remixes?”
I huff out a breath.
Despite myself.
“Touché.”
I lean back slightly, crossing my legs, letting my foot drag once more against his before I pull it away.
“But now I realize something,” I say, voice softer, steadier than I feel.
“It’s lonely at the top, Vale.”
That lands.
I see it in his eyes.
“I thought that’s what I wanted,” I continue. “Just me. My goals. My game. No distractions.”
A beat.
Then quieter.
“Turns out… it’s just lonely.”
His expression shifts.
Just a little.
Enough.
My voice drops.
“And what I wanted all along?”
I hold his gaze.
“It was you.”
Isa sucks in a sharp breath beside him.
The sound cuts through everything.
Reality crashing back in.
She straightens, pulling her shoulders back, chin lifting—Texas steel wrapped in sweetness.
“Okay,” she says, her drawl soft, controlled, but there’s an edge under it now. “I’m a straight shooter. I don’t do this… back and forth.”
Her eyes move between us.
Calculating.
“Cards on the table.”
The room feels like it’s shrinking.
“The way I see it,” she continues, “we’re either together… or we’re not.”
Her gaze locks on Tristan now.
“And if you are—I’m not a homewrecker,” I say quietly.
A beat.
Then—
“But I need you to hear me.” Isa voice softens, but the conviction sharpens. “She doesn’t make you happy.”
That hits.
Hard.
My jaw tightens.
Isa doesn’t look at me.
She doesn’t need to.
She’s talking to him.
“She always plays these games—pulls you in—pushes you away. Never choosing. Never fully letting you go. You can’t trust her. Not with your heart—the way you can me.”
Her hand lifts slightly, hovering near him but not touching this time.
“I’m here.”
A breath.
“And I’m real.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
I exhale slowly, then straighten in my chair.
“Then I guess it’s my turn,” I say.
Both of them look at me.
“I’m not here to play games either.”
My voice is calm.
Clear.
“But I’m also not going to pretend this isn’t… unfinished.”
I look at Tristan.
Only Tristan.
“What we had didn’t just disappear.”
My chest tightens, but I push through it.
“It’s been sitting there for five years.”
A beat.
“And it’s not fair.”
My voice softens.
“To you.”
Then shifts.
“To her.”
Then finally—
“To me.”
His eyes flicker.
I lean forward just slightly.
“He might be with you,” I say, glancing at Isa now, “but he’s always going to wonder about me.”
Her lips press together.
I don’t stop.
“The same way I’ve been wondering about him.”
I look back at Tristan.
“And Isa… I heard your conversation in the training room… your debutante mother? The one who advised you to lock down Vale for her 6’3 NBA grandbabies. Does he know? That you targeted him? Sought him out like a desperate WAG wannabe?”
Tristans face pales. His eyes go cold.
“That’s right, Vale. It wasn’t me the scholarship girl who got run out of Royal Oaks your mama needs to worry about—it’s the Texan honeypot who almost bagged you.
Are you going to ‘fess up Texas? Fine if you don’t.
..I have enough of that convo saved on my phone.
I was there in the training room getting ice… ”
Tears spring from here eyes, “It’s not like that…. not anymore I’m in love with him,” she breaks off on a sob, drawing attention from everyone around us.
The words hang there.
Heavy.
Tristan exhales slowly, dragging a hand down his face.
Then he goes still.
Completely still.
Like the world just snapped into sharp focus.
His eyes move to Isa.
Not angry.
Not soft.
Assessing.
“Is that true?”
His voice isn’t raised.
It doesn’t need to be.
Isa’s lips tremble.
“I—” she swallows, shaking her head, “It didn’t start like—okay maybe it did but it’s not like that anymore, Tristan, I swear—”
He lifts a hand.
Not harsh.
But enough to stop her.
“Isa.”
Just her name.
Firm.
Grounding.
His jaw tightens.
“You don’t get to build something real on something that started… like that.”
That lands.
Hard.
Her face crumples slightly.
“But I chose you,” she says, voice breaking. “After. I stayed because I wanted you.”
And that hits him.
You see it.
Because he feels that.
But then—
His gaze shifts.
To me.
And everything changes.
His eyes darken.
Not cold.
Not soft.
Something deeper.
More dangerous.
“Don’t do that,” he says quietly.
I blink.
“What?”
His voice sharpens.
“Don’t act like you’re above it.”
That hits.
Unexpected.
“You walked away,” he continues, stepping closer now. “You made your choice, Stella.”
Each word lands heavier.
“You don’t get to disappear for months, shut me out, decide I’m not worth it—give me bedroom eyes—pretend you didn’t…”
A beat.
“—and then come back swinging like you still own something here.”
My breath catches.
Because he’s not wrong.
And he knows it.
His voice lowers.
Quieter.
But more intense.
“I’m not something you pick up when it’s convenient.”
That one sinks deep.
He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair.
“I cared about you,” he says, softer now. “I still—” He stops himself. Then finally—“I’m not playing this like a game,” he says.
His eyes move between us.
Both of us.
“I’m not a prize. I’m not a strategy. And I’m not unfinished business you get to circle back to when you feel like it.”
My chest tightens.
Isa’s full on crying now.
Quiet.
Shaky.
And Tristan?
He looks wrecked.
Torn.
His eyes move from Isa—to me—back to Isa.
Taking it in.
Processing.
Deciding.
Then he exhales slowly, dragging a hand down his face.
“I meant what I said,” he murmurs.
His voice is quieter now.
But heavier.
“I’m not playing this.”
He looks at Isa first.
And there’s something there.
Real.
Regret.
Respect.
“You deserve honesty,” he says.
Her lips tremble.
She nods once.
Barely holding it together.
Then his gaze shifts.
To me.
And everything in my chest tightens.
Because I know that look.
I remember it.
It used to belong to me.
“And you…” he says, softer.
Not gentle.
But not cold either.
Something in between.
Something that hurts.
“You don’t get to walk back into my life and flip a switch.”
I swallow, but don’t look away.
His jaw tightens. “I cared about you, Stella.”
A beat.
His voice drops.
“I still do.”
The air leaves my lungs.
But he doesn’t let it soften him.
Not this time.
He straightens.
Shoulders back.
Decision made.
“But I’m not doing this like that.”
His eyes flick between us one last time.
“I’m choosing myself. I’m taking a play out of your book, Stell. Thank you for showing me how.”
Ouch.
It hurts.
He leaves.
I decide to stay.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Isa.
“No you’re not.”
“Maybe I’m not. But I did save you from a wrecked, broken heart. He would never go all in on you —and you know it.”
“I just needed more time. Now we both lost him.” She sniffles grabbing her things.
“Just go Stella. Leave me alone, okay. You’re a real bitch.
I never suspected you to come at us so hard—so fast. I was expecting more of a cloak and dagger play from you.
But no—you straight out took me out like a sniper. ”
I turn.
Walk away.
My ponytail swishes behind me, each step steady even though my pulse is anything but.
I don’t look back.
I don’t stop.
Not until I push through the library doors—and nearly walk straight into Kane.
He takes one look at me.
Brows lifting.
“Damn, Stella,” he mutters.
A beat.
“That was a bloodbath.”
I’m not proud.
“Do me a favor? Make sure she gets home okay. Help her with her bag?”
My shoulders slump. I wrecked T&T. She was right—I took a long rifle and made a kill shot right through their budding relationship. But in turn, I might’ve also taken out my chance with Tristan.