Chapter 28 #2
"Well, I know Everett," I say—my version of a peace offering. "I'll talk to him."
Tess nods roughly. "Yeah, okay. Thanks." She presses her lips together like she's holding more back.
I look at her, my eyes traveling from the braid in her hair to the N on her shoes, more worn than they were the first day I saw them.
God, she's beautiful.
I don't want to think that. I don't want any of this—the flutter I get in my stomach when I see her laughing with Ruthie or the way the moan I heard through her door loops in my mind when I'm alone at night.
I just want to see Tessa the way I've seen every other woman for the last twelve years—unnecessary, unsettling, a distraction I don't need. As anybody else.
And I'm trying to, I am. But I keep forgetting. Because she's not anybody else. She's… her.
And God help me, she's… beautiful. Inside and out.
Tessa moves for the door handle, and panic rushes through me—that same tug I felt earlier. Not just physical—though knowing what I feel like between her thighs makes it worse. But there's something deeper that's pulling me closer. Like she's slipping away.
"Tessa," I say, reaching for her.
My hand slinks onto her knee, and her eyes dart to it. I resist the urge to pull it back, and instead, I double down, brushing my thumb against the nylon stretched tight against her lower thigh.
"About earlier…"
Her gaze finds mine, and for a minute it's like everything else fades away.
"Yeah?" she whispers softly—desperately. She releases the handle and sinks slowly back into the seat, her body turned toward me.
"I didn't like your shirt today."
She sucks in a quiet breath, the corners of her lips teasing upward. "Not a flannel guy?"
I huff out a real laugh and naturally lean an inch closer.
"Quite the opposite," I say. "I love a good flannel."
She smiles, but then her wheels start turning.
Her face falls as the once-curious crease in her forehead deepens, and the next thing I know, anger floods her expression.
"My Holloway shirt was the only clean Gators one I had.
I'm sorry if you didn't like it because I was wearing his name specifically, but—"
"Tessa," I cut in before she spirals. "Tessa, no." I sigh, sitting forward, and run a hand down my face. "You don't need to be sorry because you were wearing my replacement's number."
Her jaw's still tight, but her gaze softens slightly. At the same time, we realize my hand is still resting on her knee, but I don't slide it away. She doesn't move either.
I swallow hard, shift my weight against the console between us, and lock eyes with her. "I wasn't upset because it was his, not really. I was upset because… it wasn't mine."
My ears ring from the silence that follows, both of our chests heaving despite not having moved at all. Her eyes flick to my lips, then fly back up, hot and hooded. "But we said…"
"I know what we said," I snap when her words trail off. "And none of that's changed. But what also hasn't changed is the fact that I can't stop thinking about you—or that kiss or what happened last night." Her cheeks flush. "And that no matter how hard I try, I'm still drawn to you."
I pause, taking in the way her irises darken and her lips fall open ever so slightly. I peer down at her, our mouths merely inches apart.
"Like right now," I breathe. "I'm somehow closer to you than I was five seconds ago. But I didn't move here—not consciously. Or like when I tore my bag apart in the dugout to find anything that belonged to me for you to wear—to cover up another man's name on your back."
My throat tightens as the truth makes its way out.
"I don't know why I did that because you're not mine. But I still want to see you wrapped in my clothes… or in my truck or sitting on my goddamn kitchen island."
My jaw ticks, and her throat moves up and down.
"Fuck, I just want you. And I haven't wanted anyone in a long time—not really. Not like this."
Her voice shakes. "Like what?" she whispers.
I blow out a breath, shoving down the hesitancy that's clawing at me.
I've come this far.
"Like we're two ends of a magnet, Tessa," I admit roughly. I reach for her—testing it—tucking a hair behind her ear. When she leans into my touch, it soothes something in me, and I drag my palm fully past her cheek. "I'm tired of pretending I don't feel the pull."
She searches my face, but I don't waver.
"I feel it too," she blurts, her chest deflating like she's been holding it in. "And I shouldn't because… you're my boss, and I just got out of a relationship. Plus, there's Ruthie, and—"
"I know," I say, dropping my forehead to hers. "It's still complicated."
She inhales deeply. "Exactly."
I pull back, and every inch of space feels wrong. But I have to know.
“Trevor…” I start. Tess’s face drains of color so fast it makes my stomach turn.
“It’s over,” she says immediately. “I told you that at the hotel.” She shifts so she’s fully facing me. “I would never have kissed you in the first place if—”
“I’m not saying that.” I shake my head, my heart still rattling in my chest. “But I can’t even consider this if that’s not done completely, Tess—if there’s any chance you still have feelings for him.”
Color rushes back into her cheeks, a red-hot flash replacing the pallor. “Liam, trust me. Whatever little feelings I had for Trevor disappeared the moment I caught him with his coworker on her knees.”
“What?” I snap, rage ripping through me before I can stop it.
Tess rolls her eyes. “We’d basically broken up a few hours earlier, so technically it wasn’t cheating. If anything, he did me a favor and proved I made the right decision. But it was over long before that.”
My head spins—my insides somehow calm and enraged at the same time. “I thought you guys had just moved in together.”
She exhales, like she’s only now accepting the truth herself. “We did… sort of.” She nods toward the building. “But everything I have at your place right now? That’s all I brought with me to his too.”
My mind flashes back to the day she started staying with us. “A suitcase and a couple of duffel bags worth?”
She nods, her lips tight. “I think I knew all along it wasn’t going to work.”
“Then why did you…” My words trail off, unable to make sense of it.
Tessa toys with the strings of her hoodie, then shrugs. “He asked me to." She drops the yarn and her shoulders. "And at the time, saying yes felt… easier, ya know? Like it wasn't hurting anyone.”
I tip my chin up, sucking my teeth. “Sort of like with us?”
She hesitates—thinking through her response, or fighting it. “No," she finally answers definitively. Her voice softens. "Nothing like this."
Just like that, the weight I’ve been carrying loosens.
I inhale deeply, my lungs grateful for the air.
I don’t know why I trust Tessa’s answer, but I do.
I needed to know Trevor was gone for good, and that with everything else going against us, I didn't need the idea of them getting back together looming in my mind.
We're both adults. We both have history. Hers includes a douchy ex that seems to have been less of a threat than I thought, and mine? Well, mine stars a one-night-stand that ended with a knock at my door—and a daughter for life.
Both are in the past.
And maybe that shouldn’t be enough for me.
But it is.
"Just tell me one thing…"
She stills, waiting.
"Did you mean it?" She searches my eyes for an explanation until I offer one. "When you said you care about both of us… Did you mean it?"
She visibly relaxes for the first time since this conversation started. "Of course."
My lips rush to hers—just once—but it's firm and steady and filled with promise. And damn—it feels right.
"Let's get your stuff," I say facing forward again, channeling all of my energy into gripping the handle of the door.
Her eyes flutter open, confusion etched into her brow.
"We can finish this later."
Because I need space to clear my head, and because if I'm about to give in—really give in—she deserves more than a parking lot. "When we get home," I finish.
That last word hits her—I see it. I feel it. And I smile gently as I step out of the car.
Yeah… that feels right too.