Chapter 8 #3
“They didn’t lecture me. They didn't tell me to try harder. They flew up that weekend, rented a convertible, and drove me up the coast to eat oysters and drink too much wine until I felt better.” I gave a small, sad smile.
“They really do care, Braden. In their own way, they’re my biggest cheerleaders.
It just… gets heavy sometimes, holding up the megaphone. ”
“But is it enough? Is the career everything you hoped for?”
“Of course,” I said, a note of pride in my voice. “I’m doing important work, I’m published multiple times, I’m the lead here, and I’m on the short list for a major fellowship. I’ve accomplished everything I set out to do so far.”
He was quiet for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. “You just listed a resumé, Tessa. You didn't say if you were happy.”
I put my fork down, my appetite suddenly gone. I replayed my answer in my head—published, important work, fellowship.
“I’m good at what I do,” I said, my voice softer than before. “And I’m proud of the work. Is that the same thing as being happy? I don’t know. I guess I’ve never really thought to ask.”
When I met his gaze again, the intensity and compassion I saw caused a lump in my throat. The conversation was too close to what Lila had said. “What about you? Did you build the life you wanted, or the life you thought would prove you were enough?”
He flinched, and I immediately regretted the question. But instead of shutting down, he considered it.
“Both, maybe,” he said after a pause. “I built Tidal Hops because I love brewing. But yeah, there was definitely an element of proving something. Showing that the Coleridge name could mean success, not just scandal.”
“You did,” I said again, meaning it with every fiber of my being. “You absolutely did.”
Our eyes met across the table, and the air between us shifted, charged with everything we’d just admitted. The quiet hum of the restaurant faded away. Braden studied me, his gaze steady and searching.
Finally, he let out a slow breath. A wry, almost pained smile touched his lips. “We might have a problem.”
My heart gave a sharp kick against my ribs. “What’s that?”
“This was supposed to be simple, remember?” He gestured to the small space between us. “This doesn’t feel simple, Tessa.”
“No. It doesn’t. Because it’s not.”
We finished dinner in a haze of shared understanding. Every glance held acknowledgment, and every moment of silence was filled with the things we weren’t saying. By the time we left the restaurant, the tension was a quiet, powerful current pulling us together.
The drive back to my townhouse felt both endless and too short.
When he pulled up to the curb, I should have said goodnight and retreated to the safety of my beige walls.
Instead, I invited him to walk me to the door.
We stood on my doorstep, the porch light casting shadows across his chiseled face.
Every nerve in my body was attuned to his presence and the bare inches separating us.
“Thank you for dinner. It was...” I searched for the right words. “A good start.”
“Yeah.” His gaze was locked on my lips. “It was.”
He should have turned and left. I should have opened my door. But neither of us moved. This was the moment where the rules were supposed to kick in, but they felt like a flimsy, ridiculous lie.
So I took a step.
I closed the space between us, laid a hand on the solid warmth of his chest, and rose on my toes. He didn’t move, his breath catching as I brushed my lips against his. My kiss wasn’t a demand. It was a question. And when his hand came up to cup the back of my neck, I had my answer.
I melted against him, my hands circling his neck as our kiss heated.
His tongue swept against mine, and I made a sound I barely recognized.
He groaned, his other hand moving to my waist and pulling me flush against him.
I could feel the hard planes of his body and the evidence of his desire pressing against my hip.
This was nothing like our careful boundaries.
This was fire and need and twelve years of wanting compressed into a single moment.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. I waited for him to say something about the kiss, about how we’d just obliterated every rule we’d set.
Instead, he took a deliberate step back, his hands falling away. “I’ll see you on the boat.”
The words reinforced the boundaries. He was protecting himself and pulling back before we crossed a line we couldn’t uncross.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. I’d been the one to leave twelve years ago, choosing my future over him. Now he was setting the limits. I couldn’t even be hurt by it, because I’d earned this caution. I’d taught him that loving me meant being left behind.
I gave him a shaky nod. “See you then. Goodnight.”
He nodded, his jaw like iron, and turned to walk back to his truck. My body still hummed with unfulfilled desire, and my heart ached with the weight of everything unsaid.
As his taillights disappeared down the street, I sank onto my doorstep, Lila’s words echoing in my head with devastating clarity.
“You’re playing with dynamite.”
She was right. This careful arrangement wasn’t safe. It was anything but simple. It was a slow-motion heartbreak I’d willingly signed up for, and I had no idea how to stop it.
The worst part?
I wasn’t sure I wanted to.