Chapter 45
The Moment After
Morning spilled warm through the kitchen windows, turning the snow outside into a world of white fire.
Sam sat near the stove with a small stack of kindling he was attempting, very slowly, to split into cooking pieces.
His head felt clearer today, the dizziness less sharp, and he allowed himself to hope that maybe he was turning a corner.
Tessa worked at the counter behind him, rolling out dough for biscuits. The soft thump of the rolling pin and the quiet hum she didn’t realize she made wrapped the whole room in a warmth that had nothing to do with the stove.
Scout slept between them, his nose tucked under Sam’s boot.
Every so often, Sam looked up from the kindling and caught Tessa glancing at him over her shoulder. She’d look away quickly, cheeks tinting pink. It had been like that since yesterday, each of them trying not to think about the moment that almost happened. And the one before that.
Sam reached for another small piece of wood and immediately felt her behind him.
“You’re pushing yourself again,” Tessa said, voice low but firm.
He sighed. “Just kindling.”
“Mm-hm.” She stepped closer. “And how’s your head?”
“It’s fine.”
“Is it?”
He looked up then—and there she was, leaning close, concern softening her features, her hair falling just slightly across her cheek. She moved a hand toward his temple.
“May I?” she asked.
He nodded, breath catching.
Her fingertips brushed his forehead lightly, checking for swelling. He closed his eyes for a moment—not from pain, but because she was so gentle it nearly undid him.
“You’re warm,” she murmured.
Sam opened his eyes. “You always say that.”
“Because you always are.”
He wanted to smile. Instead, he found himself leaning in, just slightly, toward her hand.
Her breath hitched. She didn’t pull away.
“Tessa…” he whispered.
She looked at him fully then—eyes open, wondering, almost inviting—and he felt the pull between them like a rope drawn tight.
He reached up, letting his fingers graze her wrist. She didn’t move. Her lips parted—
They were inches apart, closer than yesterday, closer than ever—
BOOM!
The front door slammed open with all the subtlety of a cattle stampede.
“Sam Fletcher!”
Jo Howe’s unmistakable voice rang through the house.
Sam jerked so hard he nearly toppled off the chair. Tessa’s hands shot out to steady him, which only made them look worse when Jo came barreling into the kitchen, Reed right behind her with a face full of apology he didn’t get to voice.
“We were headed to Abby’s, but Reed said we should—oh!” Jo halted mid-stride, taking in the scene. “Are we interrupting something?”
Tessa went red to the roots of her hair.
Sam froze, still half-leaning into Tessa’s hands.
Reed blinked at them. “Uh. Should we… go outside again?”
Jo elbowed him. “No, they look like they’re about to—what were you two doing, anyway?”
Sam opened his mouth.
Tessa opened hers.
Neither found a single word. And that’s when it happened. The moment stretched too long. Confusion and embarrassment collided.
Then Sam met Tessa’s eyes—Tessa met Sam’s—and they broke.
Sam’s shoulders shook with sudden, helpless laughter. Tessa pressed a hand over her mouth, but it didn’t help—she started laughing too, her whole body folding with it. The sheer ridiculousness of Jo’s timing, Reed’s baffled face, the fact that this had happened again—it all hit at once.
Jo and Reed stared.
Reed blinked. “Did… did we miss a joke?”
Jo put a hand on her hip. “Why does it feel like we missed a lot more than a joke?”
Sam couldn’t even answer. Tessa leaned against the counter, breathless, tears of laughter gathering in her eyes, shaking her head as she tried to compose herself.
“It’s nothing,” Tessa gasped between laughs. “It’s—it’s—we keep—Sam and I keep—”
“We don’t keep anything,” Sam said quickly, which only made Tessa laugh harder.
Reed looked at Jo. “I think we interrupted something.”
Jo rolled her eyes. “I told you Sam was sweet on her.”
Sam choked, mid-laugh. Tessa went silent—then bright scarlet.
Reed cleared his throat loudly. “Jo, maybe don’t—uh—maybe don’t say exactly—uh—”
But Jo barreled on, grinning. “You know you are, Sam. Everybody in this valley knows it.”
Sam pressed his hand over his face. “Jo…”
Reed sighed and put a steadying hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Let’s maybe let them… breathe.”
Jo softened—but only slightly. “Fine. But if you two ever finish a sentence around each other without someone busting through the door, you let me know.”
Sam and Tessa exchanged a glance that nearly started them laughing again.
Before Jo could say another word, Isaac and Eli burst through the back door, snow flying everywhere. “Sam! Jo! Reed!” Eli shouted. “Isaac found a squirrel nest! And Pike said—”
He stopped, taking in the chaos.
Isaac blinked up at the adults. “Why is everyone laughing?”
Jo stepped aside and pulled Isaac into a quick hug. “Because grown-ups are ridiculous. That’s why.”
Sam shook his head helplessly, still grinning. “Pretty much.”
Tessa wiped her eyes, trying to regain control. “We’re all right. Just… a lot happening at once.”
Isaac frowned at Sam. “Are you dizzy again?”
“No,” Sam said honestly. “Just interrupted.”
Eli looked between Sam and Tessa, his eyebrows raising with slow teenage suspicion. “Uh-huh.”
Reed clapped Eli on the shoulder. “We should head out before Jo asks more questions Sam’s not ready to answer.”
Jo gasped in mock offense. “I don’t ask questions. I observe.”
“Mm-hm,” Reed said, guiding her toward the door.
Isaac tugged Tessa’s hand. “Can we show you the nest later?”
“Yes,” Tessa said, smoothing his hair. “Of course.”
Jo and Reed waved their way out, Jo shouting something about checking on Abby and bringing back stew later.
The house quieted again.
Snow drifted peacefully against the windows.
Tessa leaned on the counter, catching her breath.
Sam leaned back in his chair, rubbing his forehead lightly.
Scout sighed and sprawled across both their boots as though giving up on guarding them from interruptions.
Finally, Tessa looked at Sam, eyes still sparkling despite her blush.
“That,” she whispered, “was the worst timing yet.”
Sam laughed softly. “Think we should just assume someone’s always going to show up?”
“Probably.”
A beat passed.
Sam tilted his head. “Tessa?”
She lifted her eyes.
“We’re… not imagining this, are we? The thing between us?”
Tessa swallowed, her voice warming. “No. We’re not imagining it.”
“But we’re not getting a moment alone,” Sam added.
She smiled—a soft, hopeful smile that hit him right in the chest. “Then we’ll just wait for the right one.”
Sam nodded. “I can do that.”
Tessa stepped a little closer—not touching, not rushing, just enough that he felt it.
“So can I,” she whispered.
And Scout gave a single bark.