Chapter 11 - Nate
Walking down Main Street feels like stepping into an old photograph that someone’s been adding colour to while I wasn’t looking.
The bones are the same, the brick fronts, the hanging flags, the sound of laughter spilling out of every doorway, but everything’s brighter, fuller, more alive than I remember.
New shops have popped up where the old hardware store and post office used to be.
The air smells like barbecue and maple sugar, like nostalgia wrapped in smoke.
Canada Day in Hawthorne Ridge used to be simple: a few picnic tables at the park, fireworks, and music from someone’s truck bed.
Now it’s a full Hallmark production. Every small business has spilled out into the street.
Kids dart between booths with painted cheeks, sparklers flashing.
People wave, some shout my name, and a few just stare.
I used to be the hometown hero. Now I’m the guy they read about in headlines, the one with the messy breakup, the temper, the bad press.
And maybe it’s not just me they’re looking at. Maybe it’s the crew that came with me, teammates and a handful of girls who look like they took a wrong turn from a downtown rooftop party. Sequins, stilettos, perfume so thick it sticks in your throat. They stand out like neon in this kind of night.
McKenna’s bouncing ahead, narrating everything like a tourist. “They actually shut down the whole street? This is sick.”
Anders sighs. “I’m buying property here.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Jensen says. “Looks like people actually talk to each other here.”
He’s not wrong.
We weave through the crowd, laughter and live music mixing with the smell of grilled meat and beer, until I spot the sign for Harvest she looks wild and free. Then his eyes trail over to the group of girls that trailed along tonight, who are no doubt pouting or posing.
“You know any of their names?” he asks quietly.
I know what he’s getting at. I stay silent.
He nods, slowly. “That’s what I thought.”
He turns his dark brown eyes on me and leans forward, looking so much like his dad did when we were younger and got into something we shouldn't have.
“Yes, Tess is beautiful, but she's not just another pretty face. She puts up a brave front, but she's been on her own a long time and has finally found people here who care. Don’t be the guy who screws that up.”
I bristle. “You think you’re the guy who is good enough for her, Dr. Morgan?”
His brow pinches together, then he lets out a long exhale, eyes going dark. “No. And more importantly, neither did she.”
He pauses, like the memory still stings.
“She saw something that no one else has ever picked up on.
I don't date, not long term, not since..
." He gets a far-off look in his eyes and shakes it away, continuing, "but I thought maybe if I could with anyone, it would be with Tess.
But she saw through me, said she wouldn't be in a relationship with someone who was still hooked on someone else, and that was it. She saw everything I buried.”
He looks back toward her, dancing under the patio lights with Jensen now, and then back at me.
When he stands, he leans in close.
“Bit of advice, Captain,” he says, voice quiet enough that only I can hear. “Make sure you’re ready before you go there. Something tells me she doesn’t give second chances.”
Later, I find her alone at the bar, waiting for a drink. First time I’ve seen her without someone beside her all night.
I grab the stool next to hers, toss out some dumb pickup line that falls flat before it’s even out of my mouth. “So, what’s a guy gotta do to get five minutes of your attention, buy out the place?”
She looks at me, unimpressed. “Really?”
I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. “You’d think I’d be better at this by now.”
“Maybe you should stop trying so hard.”
I meet her gaze. “Maybe I don’t want to.”
She studies me, not like most people do, not trying to figure out what I’m worth, but whether I mean what I say.
Her voice softens. “Look, Nate. Whatever it is you’ve got going on right now… I’m not interested.”
That hurts more than I know what to do with it, so I try for a joke, “Only a ring will do?”
She laughs, quiet but genuine. “No. I’ve got no problem with casual. Or even a fling.” Her tone hardens just enough. “But I don’t compete for attention. I don’t do messy. And I don’t want to be part of your roadshow. I like my quiet life, on my terms.”
She starts to turn away, but I can’t let her go. Not yet. I don't know why I say what I say next. It was like desperation clawed its way out of my throat. “Tell me what kind of man would have a chance with you, and I’ll try to be him.”
Those dark blue eyes study me, “There’s no mould to fit into. I don’t want a version of someone; I want them. The real, messy, honest kind of person. You’d be surprised how rare that is these days.”
I suddenly feel the need to defend myself, "I am not who they portray me as." At least I don't think I am.
Someone calls her name, and she goes to walk away. Again.
“I was planning to stick around more this summer,” I say, the words surprising even me. “During the off-season. Before training camp picks up. Maybe… you could give me a chance to show you I’m more than what people think I am.”
Her eyes linger on me, unreadable. She shakes her head like she has come to some sort of decision, and smiles, soft but cautious. “Then I guess we’ll see if your actions know how to keep up with your words, Captain.”
When she walks away, it feels like something just shifted under my feet.
I wasn't planning on spending my summer here, but something about the way her ocean eyes studied me. Saw something in me that maybe even I forgot was still there.