Chapter 27 - Tessa #2
He never let go of my hand, kept pulling me into him for kisses, like he couldn't get enough of me. Being with him felt so natural, perfect. He walked me through the historic district, talking to me about some of his favourite things to do when he is on the road. We found a little café with outdoor seating and ate breakfast while fans tried to pretend they weren’t taking photos of him.
We went to a museum. A lookout tower. A bookstore where he bought me a ranch romance novel, saying, “It reminds me of your truck, your boots, and you,” and then tossed in a hockey romance, saying, "And this is for when you miss me."
He seemed so relaxed, happy. We easily fell into a content rhythm of teasing and banter that reminded me of the summer. We moved through the city together. Nate kissed me when we ducked behind an exhibit in a museum, grinning like a man who forgot he was recognizable.
But I couldn't, because every few minutes, someone turned, lifted a phone and whispered his name. I caught myself checking behind us more than once, and making sure I looked ok more than I ever have in my life.
By mid-afternoon, my cheeks hurt from smiling, but my chest felt full. Overfull.
Because he held my hand like he couldn’t let go. Like I was his anchor in this moment, in our world, like he needed me here.
And I liked it.
I really, really did.
Because being the centre of Nate's attention, feeling his focus, his love... It is intoxicating.
But as we walked through a busy plaza, sunlight bursting through, with people turning, cameras flashing, Nate pulled me into a bruising kiss after a man with his phone out asked for a kiss for the camera. The unease flickered again, small, barely there, gone before I could understand it.
Was I really part of his world now? Was this what life would look like for as long as we were together?
We ended the day tangled up in each other in his hotel room, ordering room service and watching bad TV until he fell asleep on my stomach, my fingers in his hair.
It felt perfect. And still, somewhere beneath all that warmth, something in me whispered:
If everything is okay, why does this feel like balancing on the edge of a knife?
I didn't have an answer.
So, I kissed the top of his head, turned the TV volume down, and told myself:
Everything is fine.
Adam’s Pub was buzzing louder than usual for a weekday night, the low hum of conversation mixing with the clatter of pint glasses and the occasional burst of laughter.
Adam had mentioned that people had started showing up to watch the Kodiaks' games in the hometown of Captain Carson and The Cowgirl Angel.
He laughed and pulled me into a hug while telling me how great I was for business.
I rolled my eyes at him, and I tucked myself into a corner booth with Chase while Adam handled the bar with Brody, the two brothers moving through the space like it was natural.
Nate was on an away stretch. He had Facetimed me from the hotel before heading to the arena, asking if I would be watching the game.
Chase dropped into the booth across from me, sliding a plate of fried food between us. “Eat,” he said. “You’re doing that thing where you pretend, you’re fine but look like you’ve been staring into the void.”
“I’m not staring into the void.” I grabbed a wing, pulling my attention to one of the TVs playing the Kodiak's game. “I’m just tired. But I am fine.”
“Mhm.” Chase raised a brow. “You’re not fine.”
I scoffed, but it sounded weak. “He’s just stressed. They’ve been playing back-to-back games. He’s exhausted.”
"Funny how I never said anything about, Nate."
I scowled at Chase as applause and cheers burst out around us. "Stop! You don't know what you are talking about! I don't want to talk about him."
I looked away because I didn't know what else to say.
Adam wandered over just in time to catch the tail end. He dried his hands on a bar towel, leaning his hip against the booth. “You okay, T?”
Why does that question always feel like it hits a bruise I didn’t know was there?
“I’m good,” I said quickly. “Seriously. Just tired.”
Adam exchanged a look with Chase, one of those silent conversations that says too much.
“What?” I snapped, because their quiet concern was somehow worse than if they’d yelled.
Chase kept his voice gentle. “Nothing. Just… I was worried when he first showed interest in you, knowing his reputation. But then I saw how you light up when you were together... So, I didn't say anything. But lately, you look like you’re trying to convince yourself of something. Your light is dimmed.”
That stung in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
“I’m not trying to convince myself of anything,” I said, sitting up straighter. “He’s just under pressure. The media stuff, the season starting... It’s a lot. We are still new and juggling a lot.”
“Maybe,” Adam said carefully. “Or maybe that’s just who he is when the season starts. Captain Carson.”
My spine went rigid. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t flinch. Adam rarely did. “I’m saying the version of him you get in Hawthorne Ridge is not the version the world gets during the season.
That doesn’t make either one fake or bad.
But it does mean there’s more than one version of him.
And you should pay attention to the one you’re with the most and how that makes you feel. ”
Heat flared through my chest, defensiveness, fear, I don’t know.
“I am paying attention,” I said. “And I know who he is.”
Chase lifted his hands in surrender. “We’re not saying you don’t. Just… don’t ignore yourself. You always know when something feels off. You can read people. It’s like your freaky superpower.”
I scoffed. “My superpower is knowing when a horse is about to kick or when a goat is plotting an escape.”
“Exactly,” Chase laughed, leaning back. “Don't ignore your instincts.”
“I don’t need to overthink everything,” I shot back. “Maybe I just need to get used to all this media stuff. Maybe you two don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Their eyes softened, not sharpened.
“Maybe,” Chase agreed quietly. “And maybe you just needed someone to say it out loud so you can decide what you actually feel.”
I hated how that pierced straight through the thin armour I’d been patching together these past few weeks.
Adam nudged the plate toward me. “Eat. And breathe. You don’t owe us an explanation. We just want you happy, T.”
“Yeah,” Chase added. “And if you are, then that’s the only thing that matters.”
We let the conversation drift after that, back to harmless teasing, fall rodeo plans, and which of Adam’s terrible playlists should be banned from the pub stereo.
We discussed plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but something inside me stayed tangled.
A small, quiet knot that hadn’t loosened yet.
And as much as I hated to admit it… They weren’t entirely wrong.
Later that night, I crawl into my bed alone, his hoodie drowning me, and I tell myself:
You’re being dramatic.
You’re overthinking.
You trust him.
He loves you.
You’re fine.
But my stomach doesn’t believe me.
Because something in him is shifting.
Something in us.
And even though I’m falling for him so hard it’s borderline reckless, part of me, the part shaped by old wounds and old disappointments, is waiting for the floor to give way.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Trust him, Tessa. You chose this. You chose him. Don’t run at the first sign of fear. Don’t ruin something good because you’re scared.
But still…
The last thought slips in like a whisper I can’t silence:
What if this time… you ignored the warning signs?
And what if that’s the thing that breaks you?
I don’t have the answer.
But I pull the pillow that has become his into my arms and hold on tight.
Because even with the unease chewing at the edges of my certainty…
I’m still all in.