Chapter 20 - Tessa
Typically, Sundays after an event are my favourite kind of slow, a whole day of nowhere to be, a to-do list that starts with “laundry” and ends with “nap.” But today, my nerves have a heartbeat. I can’t tell if it’s because I barely slept or because every time I closed my eyes, I saw him.
That stupid, perfect dip.
That grin that said he knew exactly what he was doing.
That kiss that made the rest of the world dissolve into a blur of noise and lights and us.
The kind that changes the air after it’s over.
I’m halfway through folding towels when I hear tires crunching on my gravel drive. Before I can even move, Kenzie’s voice bellows through the screen door like sunshine with a caffeine problem.
“Do not even try to pretend you’re not home, Tess. I brought coffee and carbs.”
I laugh, setting the basket aside, and make my way to the door.
Kenzie holds up a tray of coffee and a box from Clara’s like an offering. “You can't avoid me, my sister, from another mister. Now spill. What’s going on with you and my brother?”
My stomach flips. “Brother?”
She doesn’t even wait for me to answer, dropping onto my couch, her phone already out. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
She grins like a cat who has just found the cream. “Oh, Tess. You went viral.”
I blink. “What?”
Kenzie flips her phone around, and there it is, the whole damn thing: a carousel of photos, clips, and posts.
Us dancing.
The dip.
That kiss.
A side-by-side of Nate winking on the Jumbotron while I’m mid-laugh, smiling like I’ve forgotten the whole arena is watching.
Jamie’s caption: Kodiaks hit the rodeo, but the Cowgirl stole the show.... and maybe our Captain's heart.
“Oh my god.”
“Yup.” Kenzie sips her iced coffee. “Half the comments are asking who you are, the other half are about how no one knew Captain Carson could smile like that.”
I bury my face in my hands. “OH MY GOD. Tell me this dies down.”
She pats my knee. “Eventually. Around the same time, hockey stops being a religion.”
I groan, and she laughs harder.
“Kenz, I’m not built for this kind of attention. I like my quiet life. I like my animals. I like not having to think about what I look like when I leave my house.”
“I know,” she says softly, and for once, she sounds serious. “But I also know my brother, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone like he looks at you.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
Instead, I deflect. “You going to the Palmers' anniversary dinner?”
“Obviously. Everyone’s going. Family-style dinner, long tables, too much food, everyone pretending not to notice that Mom already told the entire town you and Nate kissed.”
I groaned.
She laughed. "I bet Mom is going to get t-shirts made with that kiss printed on them. Maybe even on your wedding invitations."
“No.”
"My parents love you. They weren't successful with pairing you with Eli... Nate is their last hope."
I grab one of my throw pillows and smack her with it. "Oh my god, maybe I should just stay home. The moms are going to be all over this."
Kenzie catches the pillow, laughing. “You’ll survive. Just wear something cute. I’ll pick you up.”
After she leaves, I throw myself into the kind of chores that don’t need thinking: laundry, sweeping, and rearranging the kitchen drawers for no reason. The house smells like lemon cleaner and soap, and the radio hums some slow country tune that feels too on the nose.
By the time I drag my last basket upstairs, the sun is already starting to dip, spilling honey light through the windows.
In the bath, I soak my sore body and decide to take the plunge and look at my social media.
When I log in to the app, my notifications go haywire.
Tags, shares, DM requests, and new followers seem excessive to me.
I refreshed the app and checked for an update, but no, this is real.
The tiny account I had created to feel connected to my dad, which I kept going to showcase the places and people I work with, has now blown up.
I follow the threads and comments back to the Kodiaks' official account and scroll.
Then the tags where I find videos of the incident with Rex that make my chest tighten.
I decide to ignore it all and let my phone drop onto my pile of towels, sinking deep into my tub and soak in the silence.
Kenzie will be here any minute. I am rushing around tidying up and catch sight of myself in the mirror, hair down, soft waves brushing my shoulders, bruising fading to pale yellow in most places.
My body’s still sore, but it’s a reminder, not a limitation.
For the first time since the accident, I look like me again.
I pull on one of my favourite dresses, a vintage-style floral Western maxi, the hem uneven and wild.
It makes me feel like I belong here, like I could walk into the golden hour and stay there forever.
I add my old cowboy boots, run my fingers through my hair, swipe on a little mascara, and tell myself it’s not for him.
It’s absolutely for him.
Kenzie’s horn honks twice. I step outside, and she whistles low, eyes wide.
“Okay, ma’am. You’re about to cause my brother heart problems.”
She’s all sunshine and ease, her hair piled high, her baby blue dress skimming her knees. She looks like she belongs on a postcard, and somehow, she still manages to make me feel seen.
“Get in, hot stuff,” she says, grinning. “We've got an entrance to make.”
The Palmers' place looks like a Hallmark movie set come to life, long harvest tables strung with lights, dishes everywhere, laughter spilling out of every corner. Kids chase each other through the grass. Someone’s tuning a guitar.
And then there’s Nate. He spots me before I can even think about pretending, I don’t see him. His eyes darken, his smile is slow, deliberate. When I reach the tables, he’s already there, hand sliding to my waist like it belongs.
“You look beautiful,” he says, voice low, private.
“Thank you,” I manage, my heart doing its best to combust quietly.
He doesn’t let go of me all night, and I don’t ask him to. His thumb traces small circles at my hip while people come by to talk, his hand always there, a quiet tether.
When there’s a break in conversation, I lean in. “We need to talk.”
He looks instantly wary. “About?”
“The pictures. The press. The Kodiaks' social media looks like it could be my fan account right now.”
His jaw tightens for half a second before he schools it into that easy grin. “It’ll die down. Promise.”
“Nate...”
“It’s just off-season PR. Jamie’s been trying to show a different side of the team and fill the feed when we aren't playing hockey. You happened to be there.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Coincidentally?”
He hesitates just long enough for me to notice, then says, “Yeah.”
"Nate."
He kisses my forehead and brushes hair behind my ear, "I promise, it isn't anything you need to worry about. Trust me."
Something about it doesn’t sit right, but before I can push, Diane calls my name.
I swear he lets out a long exhale and then presses a kiss to my temple before I go.
I end up beside Clara, who’s nursing under a cover, chatting about Jackson’s latest escapade with trying to bond with Hannah, their baby girl.
I look up to see the little guy chatting up his hockey heroes, getting their signatures on his jersey.
The table feels alive, hands passing plates, stories overlapping, laughter that fills all the empty spaces.
People ask how I am feeling and whether it was hard to get back to work.
For a while, I let myself just be.
The noise, the warmth, the light catching in the Mason jars, it’s everything I ever loved about small towns and everything I never thought I would have.
Cassidy is glowing, and Brody can't keep his hands off her belly.
Nate finds me again, sliding into the seat beside me. His thigh brushes mine. Every so often, he leans in to steal a kiss, a brush at my cheek, a whisper at my ear. The crowd cheers for the music starting up near the barn, and someone calls out for a dance.
He stands, holds out his hand. “Come on.”
I let him pull me up, heart thudding.
The band plays slowly, and he draws me in close. His hand settles at the small of my back, and I can feel his breath against my temple.
“I could get used to this,” he murmurs.
I tilt my head, smiling. “Me too.”
The hand that was on my back moves up into my hair, and then his mouth is on mine, deep, claiming, unhurried. The kind of kiss that doesn’t care who’s watching.
The kind of kiss that screams MINE.
When he pulls back, the look in his eyes is so intense I stumble a step. He doesn't let me fall; he holds me up as if nothing happened.
"Just go with it." He whispers in my ear.
"What?" I barely get out.
"This. Us. Don't fight it. I see that big, beautiful brain working in overdrive when you look at me. That is not the look I want to see."
"What look do you want to see?" I whisper.
He doesn't answer. I don't think he needs to. He pulls me flush with him. Nuzzles into my neck, and I realize I am completely screwed. It's not so much of a dive as it is a belly flop. But the truth is, I am falling, and it's terrifying.
By the end of the night, when the tables are half empty and the music’s slowed to a hum, Nate takes my hand again. “Let me drive you home.”
The ride is quiet, windows down, summer air thick with lilac and dust.
On my porch, under the soft glow, he stops, fingers trailing my jaw.
“I want to see you this week,” he says, voice rough. “Doesn’t matter when. Even if it’s just between jobs.”
“Careful,” I whisper. “You might start sounding serious.”
He smirks, leaning in, his breath brushing my lips. “Tessa, I am.”
And then he kisses me again, slower this time, softer. Like a promise. Like something worth breaking for.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. “Get some sleep, Tessa.”
“Goodnight, Nate.”
I stay there long after his Bronco disappears, the taste of him still on my lips, the summer night wrapped around me like a secret I don’t want to let go.