Chapter 22 - Tessa
I don’t remember the last time I had a Saturday this quiet.
No alarms, no calls, no urgent cases. Just me, a hot coffee, and the faint hum of the ceiling fan trying its best to fight off the August heat.
Nate had gone back to Summit City last night for another team meeting. When I’d asked what it was about, he said it was preseason stuff, schedules, marketing, and PR. The usual. He’d kissed my forehead, said he’d be back tonight, and that was it.
It shouldn’t have felt off, but it did.
I’d spent last night at Chase’s, sprawled on his couch with Adam, half-watching a movie, half-arguing about whether or not pineapple belonged on pizza. Kenzie had bailed, saying she was “busy,” which, from the smile in her voice, told me everything I needed to know.
Now it’s morning, the sky hazy with late-summer sun, and I’ve decided to keep my promise to Olivia.
By late morning, I’ve loaded Olivia’s tiny pink helmet and a bag of apples and carrots into my truck. Marcus meets me at the riding camp my friend runs just outside Summit City.
The place smells like hay and sun-warmed leather, horses shifting lazily in their stalls. Olivia’s practically bouncing out of her new riding boots.
“Do I get my own horse?” she asks, clutching my hand.
“Today you get to meet a few and see which one likes you best,” I tell her. “That’s how it works, you don’t pick them, they pick you.”
She nods solemnly, as if I’ve just explained one of the great truths of the universe.
Watching her meet the horses, I feel myself relax in a way I didn’t realize I needed to.
The last few weeks have been a blur of movement and moments with Nate.
His voice on the phone late at night. His hand finding mine when we walk through a crowd.
His eyes always on me. I try to push him out of my head.
Focus on this. On the way, Olivia laughs when Sugar, the mare, nudges her shoulder for another apple.
Marcus leans on the rail beside me, quiet for a while before he finally says, “Thanks for doing this. Liv’s been talking about it non-stop.”
I smile. “She’s a natural.”
He watches her, eyes soft, and I think, not for the first time, how much strength it takes to raise a kid alone.
When I ask him why he didn’t have to go to the meeting with the rest of the team, he gives me a look I can’t quite read.
“I was there for the first part. Scheduling, some sponsor stuff,” he says. “But I told them I’m done with Liv being used for PR. She’s just a kid, Tess. That’s not her job.”
That makes me still. The word PR feels like static in my veins.
“You told them that today?”
He nods. “Yeah. Nate was still there when I left.”
That’s when I check the time, almost three. He should’ve called by now.
By the time I am back at my truck, the sky’s gone golden. I check my phone again, nothing. No text. No call. Not even a stupid meme.
I tell myself he’s busy, that he’s got a lot on his plate. But the silence feels heavier than usual. Finally, I call him.
It rings twice before he answers, voice low and rough. “Hey.”
Something’s off immediately.
“Hey, yourself,” I say gently. “You heading home tonight?”
A long breath on the other end. “I am home.”
I frown, glancing around the parking lot. “Oh, the lake house or your parents’?”
“No. My place. The penthouse.”
That catches me off guard, because I have never once heard him refer to his place in the city as home. “Ok.”
I try to keep it light. “You sound like you could use company.”
“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Maybe.”
The unease starts to creep in. “Nate… what’s going on?”
Silence. Then... “Are we together, Tess?”
The question hits like a stone in my chest.
“What?” I laugh a little, trying to deflect the sting of it, turn it around. “I mean, we haven’t had the talk, but considering how much time we spend together, I didn’t think you had time to see anyone else.”
He doesn’t laugh, and the quiet that follows isn’t comfortable. It’s thick. Choking.
“Nate,” I say carefully. “What’s happening?”
He sighs, long and hard. “Just… come here. Please.”
And even though every warning bell in my body is going off, I get in my truck and head into the city.
When I step into his penthouse, the air feels… wrong. Nate’s standing by the window, city lights painting him in streaks of blue and gold. His shoulders are tight; his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
He doesn’t turn when I say his name.
“Nate,” I murmur. “You’re scaring me a little. What’s going on?”
He exhales, still not facing me. “I know we didn’t have the conversation, Tessa. But I thought it was obvious. That we were… together.”
It’s not a question. It’s a verdict. An accusation?
“Okay,” I say slowly, confused. “We are... I don't really understand what is going on, Nate.”
He gestures toward the couch without looking. “Then you should probably see those.”
An iPad sits there, screen lit up. I pick it up, expecting… I don’t even know what I’m expecting. But not this.
Photos.
Me, everywhere.
Me laughing with Anders at the lake.
Me dancing with Jensen on Canada Day.
Eli hugging me.
Me talking to Gabe after practice.
Me with Chase and Adam last night, mid-laugh, the three of us in Chase's truck, Adam’s arm around my shoulders. That one steals my breath... how... how did someone get this?
And the last one, the one that twists my stomach into knots, was me hugging Marcus goodbye, not even an hour ago.
They are all innocent, but the angles at which they are shot make them look almost intimate.
“What the fuck is this, Nate?”
He finally turns, jaw tight, eyes shadowed. “They think it started with Brielle and Sloane. The team’s looking into it.”
“They?” My voice sharpens. “Who the hell is they?”
“Team management,” he says, quieter. “But I need to know if we’re together.”
I stare at him, disbelief and anger tangling like wires.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You just told me your ex and the girl you fucked in a public hallway, who I almost died protecting... are coming after my character, that people are following me, violating my privacy, and you have the nerve to turn this one on me. To make this about you... about us?”
He flinches but doesn’t move.
I throw the iPad onto the couch, “I don't know what we are doing, Nate.
I thought I did. But this. This... what the hell is this?
This isn't like you, at least not the you I thought I knew.
How can you turn this around on me? You were with me when most of these pictures were taken, and let's not get started on how many there seem to be.
But my past is my past, just as yours is, and I have been trying hard to look beyond it and see you.
You know I am friends with Chase and Adam. That isn't going to change...”
His eyes flash, and he cuts me off. “Is it true you fucked him... Chase”
The question feels like a physical blow. I laugh, a hollow, incredulous sound, and feel a tear slip free before I can stop it.
“Seriously, Nate, how many women did you fuck after Brielle? How many before? But because you are jealous about my relationship with Chase and the fact that he and I may have casually hooked up... you think you can turn this all on me.”
He opens his mouth, but I don’t give him the chance.
“You want to talk about trust? You think I’d hurt you like that? You think I’d lie to you?”
He just stares at me, and I have had enough. I turn to leave, but then I hear him.
“Brielle cheated on me. I didn't expect it, I had no fucking clue, and it blindsided me and then turned into the media shitshow and I... I am falling for you, Tessa, and I don't know if I can handle you doing that to me, too.”
“No,” I cut in, voice breaking. I spin back to face him and take a shaky step forward.
“One, Brielle cheating on you says shit things about who she is as a person.
.. not me... it has nothing to do with me.
Two, don't you dare try to throw in that you are falling for me right now, Nate, not after this shit you just pulled.
Three, I am an open book, you should know exactly who I am by now, and if you don't, then don't you fucking dare say you are falling for me because you can't be falling for who I am as a person, and the physical parts of me are only skin deep, you can't fall in love with that.
I get that this is part of your world, but you just told me I am being trashed publicly, and people are digging into my past, because of you and your past..
. and then make this about you and twist it on me.
Because if this is who you are, then I don't know you either, and we are done here.”
He takes a step forward, and I step back.
“If you were falling for me, Nate, you’d know me. You’d know what kind of person I am. You’d trust that.”
The silence stretches until it hurts.
Finally, I whisper, “I can’t do this.”
I turn toward the door, every step feeling like a fracture.
“Please stay.”
It’s so soft I almost miss it. Then louder...
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Tessa. I got stuck in my head, and I’m terrified about how I feel about you, about all of it. I screwed this up. Please… stay. Let me explain. You can still hate me after, but just... don’t walk away yet.”
Something in his voice makes me stop. When I look back, there’s a single tear tracking down his cheek. He looks wrecked. Small, almost. Like a boy who’s just realized he broke something he can’t fix.
He keeps going, words tumbling now. “We’ll order food.
We’ll talk. I will try to explain it all, so you see.
Please don't leave me. I know this was screwed up, and it says more about me and my past than it does you. I should know. Fuck Tessa, I do know you. I promise I do. I just... don’t let this be how we end.
This can't be it. I know there's more to us than this fuck up.”
And against my better judgment, against every self-preservation instinct I have, I walk back to him.
Dinner arrives but goes mostly untouched. Nate tells me about the meeting, the pressure from management, the threats about losing his captaincy if they don’t make the playoffs this season, and the way the Brielle scandal still hangs over everything he does.
He talks until his voice cracks, and I finally see it: The fear. The weight. The exhaustion.
I hate that it softens me, but it does. It doesn't excuse anything, but it does explain it, and I feel like I know Nate a little better.
When he finishes, I take his hand. “You can’t keep things from me, Nate, not like this. If we’re building something, it has to be built on honesty. Even the messy parts.”
He nods, eyes wet. "I know, I am so sorry, Tessa. I let it get to me, and I spiralled instead of talking to you."
“No more lies. Not by omission. Not by silence.” I urge.
Another tear slips down Nate's cheek. "I promise, Tessa. I won't do anything to mess this up again. You mean too much."
“Good,” I whisper. “Because I can handle a lot of things, Nate. But I don't like being blindsided or used. I can't be in a relationship I don't trust.”
He kisses my hand, then my forehead. “Stay tonight?”
And even though I should say no, I nod.
He gives me one of his team T-shirts, soft and worn, and when I crawl into bed beside him, he wraps me up from behind like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.
As I start to drift off in the comfort of his arms, I feel his breath warm against my neck as he murmurs, “I’m not letting this go, Red. Not us.”
And like it's part of a dream at some point in the night, I swear I hear a whisper, "I love you, Tessa."