37. Nash
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Nash
The truth is, I wasn’t trying to flirt.
Standing on that stage under the auction lights, listening to the crowd shout bids and laugh at every ridiculous thing the announcer said, I was mostly trying to keep the night lighthearted.
The whole event exists to raise money for the community center.
Kids’ programs, repairs to the gym, the kind of small-town projects that matter.
Every year, a handful of us volunteer to get auctioned off because it makes people laugh and opens their wallets.
Usually, I enjoy it.
Tonight I’m mostly trying to keep the mood from turning awkward after everything that’s happened.
The last thing Buckhorn needs is another round of speculation about me and Tessa.
Her name still hits hard as a bruise when I think about it too long.
For the past two days, I’ve replayed the look she gave me in the council chamber. Shock came first, followed by anger, and beneath both of those sat emotion that felt dangerously close to betrayal.
Maybe she had every reason to feel that way.
I told the truth, but I did it in front of half the town, which means I exposed her along with myself.
That outcome had never been the plan.
The whole point had been to free her from the story I created. Instead, I made the situation worse.
The auctioneer shouts another number, and the crowd cheers.
Nell Lawson stands near the front row with her hand raised high, looking extremely pleased with herself.
“Two hundred dollars!” the auctioneer announces. “Do I hear two fifty?”
Nell shakes her head, laughing.
The auctioneer slams his hand on the podium. “Sold!”
Applause ripples through the room while I step down from the stage.
Nell beams up at me.
“Hope you like long trail rides,” she says.
“I do,” I reply. “Hope you like questionable campfire cooking.”
She laughs and heads toward the volunteers collecting payments.
People clap my shoulder as I move through the crowd.
“Good show, Nash.”
“Nice recovery after that council circus.”
“You’re raising good money tonight.”
I nod, smile, and toss out a few jokes.
From the outside, it probably seems everything has returned to normal.
Inside, I’m still the guy who detonated his own life in front of the town council.
Then I see Maeve.
She’s standing near the drinks table, scanning the room with the focused expression of someone who has misplaced an important object.
The second she spots me, her eyes sharpen.
“Where’s Tessa?” I ask.
Maeve hesitates.
That pause answers the question before she says anything.
“Where is she?”
“She stepped outside,” Maeve replies carefully. “After, you know, all of… that.”
My chest tightens.
“I don’t think she appreciated it,” she adds. “She’s gone for air. I think she’ll be back soon…”
I’m already moving toward the door before my brain catches up. I can’t wait for her to be back.”
Cold night air slaps my face the moment I step outside.
Then I spot her near the railing at the edge of the porch, shoulders hunched slightly, hands braced against the wood as though she’s trying to hold herself still.
My stomach drops.
“Tessa.”
She stiffens before turning.
Her eyes are red.
Fantastic.
I’ve managed to make her cry again.
“What are you doing out here, Nash?”
“You ran out.”
“That did not require pursuit.”
“You’re crying.”
“I was breathing aggressively.”
Despite everything, a small smile tries to escape.
She folds her arms. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself inside.”
I blink. “Enjoying myself?”
“You were flirting,” she says sharply. “With everyone. Which, I mean, whatever. I don’t care.”
Understanding arrives all at once. “Oh.”
She lifts her chin. “Yes. Oh.”
“Tessa, that was an auction.”
“You appeared extremely comfortable.”
“That’s because people were bidding on a trail ride, not my emotional stability.”
Her mouth tightens. “You certainly didn’t look heartbroken.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Do you want me to stand on stage and announce that I’ve been miserable for two weeks?”
“Have you been?”
“I already did the honesty thing,” I say. “Remember the council meeting?”
Her expression flashes.
“Yes,” she replies. “That was… memorable.”
The sarcasm stings.
“I did that to fix things,” I say quietly.
“You humiliated me. Do you have any idea what that was like? Standing there while half the town realized I’d been part of a lie without me knowing you were going to do that?” She lets out a sharp breath. “I work in that building, Nash. I have to walk back in there every day.”
“I thought I was freeing you. I know, I wasn’t thinking straight. I was all wound up and messy.”
She stares at me as if I’ve said something absurd. “You exposed the lie in front of the entire town.”
“I ended it.”
Tessa shakes her head slowly. “You could have spoken to me first. You don’t get to decide what freedom looks like for me. That’s my choice.”
“If I had warned you,” I say, “you would have stopped me.”
“That’s because it was reckless.”
“No,” I reply, meeting her gaze. “It was necessary.”
The wind drifts across the porch, stirring loose strands of her hair.
“You were trapped in that story,” I continue. “Your uncle was using the engagement as leverage, and the town believed it meant the families were working together. The only way to break that illusion was to tell the truth.”
Her voice softens slightly. “You destroyed your own reputation.”
“That wasn’t exactly thriving.”
“That isn’t funny.”
“I’m serious.”
Silence settles between us.
Then she says quietly, “You also destroyed whatever dignity I had left.”
My chest tightens. “That was never the intention. But I did it anyway. I didn’t ask you.
I didn’t warn you. I just decided what was best and dragged you into it in front of the whole town.
” Ice-cold shame washes over me. “And yeah… I know that probably made things harder for you. Your job. Your reputation. Everything.”
“What was your intention?”
I hesitate before deciding that holding anything back at this point would be pointless.
“I fell in love with you,” I say.
Her breath catches. She looks at me like she doesn’t know what to do with that.
“And when you ran,” I continue, forcing the words out before hesitation can interfere, “I assumed that meant you didn’t feel the same way. Tessa, I told the truth at the council meeting because I didn’t want you stuck pretending anymore. You deserve better than being tied to my stupid plan.”
She looks down at the porch floor.
I think I’ve made everything worse again.
Then she laughs.
The sound carries a note of disbelief. “You thought I ran because I didn’t care about you?”
“That seemed like the obvious conclusion.”
“I ran,” she says slowly, “because you told me you loved me after you had been drinking in what was supposed to be a ‘no feelings’ arrangement.”
“That’s a slight exaggeration.”
“Is it?”
“Maybe a medium exaggeration.”
She shakes her head, though the tension in her shoulders has softened. “You are an impossible man.”
“Probably.”
“And extremely frustrating.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
She studies my face for a long moment. “You really did that for me,” she says quietly. “The council meeting.”
“Yes.”
“You blew up your own project.”
“It was already exploding.”
“You let the entire town believe you manipulated the engagement.”
“That part was technically true.”
“And you thought I didn’t care about you.”
I shrug. “You ran.”
“You don’t get to rewrite that like it didn’t matter. It mattered. That’s why I ran.” She exhales slowly, like she’s trying to steady something inside herself. “I’m still angry with you. That was still a stupid, impulsive move on your behalf.”
“I know.”
“You idiot,” she murmurs.
“Probably.”
She steps closer.
Close enough that I can see the tiny crease between her brows when she’s thinking too hard about something emotional.
“I ran because I was terrified,” she says.
“Of what?”
“Of you.”
That answer surprises me. “I don’t usually scare people.”
“You told me you loved me.”
“Yeah.”
“You said it like it was obvious.”
“It is obvious.”
Her eyes search mine. “You still mean it?”
I don’t hesitate. “I love you, Tessa.”
The words feel steadier this time.
Less jumping off a cliff and more standing exactly where I’m supposed to be.
She studies me for a long moment.
Then a small smile appears. “I was hoping you’d say that again.”
Before I can respond, she grabs the front of my jacket and pulls me into a kiss.
Then my brain catches up, and I pull her closer, kissing her with all the relief that’s been building in my chest for weeks.
When we finally pull apart, she’s still holding onto my jacket.
Her forehead rests against mine. “I love you too… even when you make decisions for both of us.” Her fingers tighten in my jacket. “Even when I probably shouldn’t.”