Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
Wyatt
Cleary’s was loud enough that I could almost hear myself think.
Almost.
The lunch rush had hit full swing. Cutlery clinked, plates slid along rails, somebody laughed too hard at the far end of the room.
The air smelled like coffee, grilled onions, and hot oil, the holy trinity of small-town diners.
It was all familiar, easy, the kind of background noise I usually sank into without a second thought.
Today, it just made everything inside me feel louder.
Because Tessa Callahan was walking three steps behind me, and my daughter just invited her to lunch. Two days, Maddy had been home for two days, and decided she and Tessa were best friends.
“Come on,” Maddy said, practically vibrating at my side. “The back booth is the best one; it has the least crying babies.”
I grunted something that might have been an agreement and tried to look like my chest was not as tight as barbed wire.
Tessa followed us in with that slightly wary set to her shoulders like she was braced for impact.
She still looked like she would rather be anywhere else than under anyone’s scrutiny.
A couple of people at the counter glanced our way.
The hostess clocked us with a quick smile and grabbed three menus.
“Booth?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Maddy answered before I could. “Corner, please.”
Of course, she wanted a corner. Fewer escape routes.
The hostess led us toward the back. I felt Tessa behind me, every footstep an echo down my spine. I couldn’t stop replaying the hydrant, her soaked shirt, the way her breath hitched when my hand held her steady in the barn. The way we hovered inches from one very bad idea.
Any sane man would have put distance between them after that. I didn't bring her to a diner. Don't let his kid sit there and get to know her. Apparently, I was not a sane man.
The corner booth was taken, so we got the one next to it. A table fixed to the floor, red vinyl that squeaked when you shifted. Maddy slid into the far side without hesitation and pointed to the empty bench across from her.
“You two can sit together,” she said, all innocent brightness. “There’s more room on that side.”
There wasn’t any more room on that side. I opened my mouth to tell her to knock it off. Tessa hesitated on the outside of the booth, clutching the strap of her bag, clearly expecting to be told to sit opposite.
For some reason, that made my chest tighten.
“It’s fine,” I said, and stepped in. The vinyl sighed under my weight. When she slid in beside me, her thigh brushed mine. That single point of contact sent a spark up my leg and lit up places I had no business paying attention to.
I shifted a fraction to the right. She shifted a fraction to the left at the same time, as if we shared one nervous system, and our knees bumped under the table.
She sucked in a little breath.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“No, that was me,” she said quickly. “I moved.”
We both went still. Maddy watched us with far too much interest for a kid who claimed to be bored by adults.
The hostess dropped menus in front of us and left us in the care of a young waitress who looked about sixteen and already exhausted.
“Be right back for drinks,” the girl said.
Maddy leaned forward, chin in her hands, eyes bright. “This is so fun.”
I let my head fall back against the booth for a second. “Define fun.”
“You, out of the house, in public, with a person who is not Holt or one of the other guys,” she said.
Tessa snorted softly beside me. She seemed to catch herself immediately and pressed her lips together, eyes down on the menu. Her shoulder still touched mine. She did not move away.
The waitress returned for drink orders. Maddy asked for a chocolate milkshake. I asked for coffee because I needed something to hold onto. Tessa hesitated.
“Vanilla milkshake, please,” she said finally.
Maddy lit up like she had won a prize. “Excellent choice. Their shakes are life-changing. Dad pretends he only drinks coffee, but he likes them too.”
“Keep talking, kid, see what happens,” I said.
She grinned.
Once the waitress disappeared again, Maddy slid her menu aside and zeroed in on Tessa with laser focus. “So, you're Ray’s niece? I sure am sorry he’s gone; he was one of my favorite people.”
Tessa tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, not quite looking at either of us. “Yes, I am, thank you for your kind words. He was pretty special.”
“But you’re out there all alone,’ she said softly.
“My friend Dani is here for now. But I don’t mind being there alone. I was raised in that home, so it’s comfortable.”
“That’s kind of cool.”
Tessa blinked, like it was the last word she expected. “Most people haven’t used that term.”
“What do they say?” Maddy asked.
The corner of Tessa’s mouth turned up in something that was not quite a smile. “Mostly that I’m in over my head.”
I watched her face as she said it. The way her throat moved when she swallowed. The quick flash of pain that she covered with dry humour. My jaw clenched.
“People talk a lot,” I said.
“They do,” Tessa murmured. “Small towns.”
I knew she was talking to Maddy, but I felt the edge in it like it was aimed at me, too. I had good intentions, she knew that, but intentions did not always land the way you wanted.
“What do you do out there?” Maddy asked. “Like what’s your day look like?”
“Fix everything that broke overnight,” Tessa said. “Feed whoever is hungry enough to complain. Argue with my truck. Fill out paperwork I don’t understand. And somewhere in that time, I go work my shift at the vet clinic.”
“The paperwork sounds terrible,” Maddy said cheerfully. “But everything else is kind of badass.”
“I don’t know about badass,” she said. “Mostly just tired.”
“I can tell,” Maddy said, not unkind at all. Just honest.
I had the sudden urge to reach over and take her hand. To tell her she was not carrying this alone, no matter how much she fought it. But I kept my hands firmly where they were.
The waitress came back with our drinks, and we all ordered without much thought. Burgers and fries, the lunch default. I realized I hadn’t stopped watching Tessa for the last ten minutes.
The food arrived, mercifully, right then. Burgers stacked high, fries spilling over like golden confetti. The waitress slid the plates in front of us, smiled, told us to holler if we needed anything.
We murmured thanks and dug in. The noise level around us swelled again. Someone dropped something behind the counter, and a burst of laughter followed. For a brief moment, it felt almost normal. Just a father, his kid, and a woman he happened to know. Nothing complicated. Nothing dangerous.
Then Tessa reached for the ketchup at the exact same time I did.
Our hands collided. Not a brush this time. Full palm to back of hand, warm and solid.
Her fingers flinched, then stilled.
So did mine.
I looked up. Her eyes met mine.
You should let go, my brain said.
I didn’t. For a breath we stayed exactly like that. Neither of us moved. The rest of the diner faded into a dull hum.
Her lips parted, just a fraction. Her tongue flicked out to wet them, fast, automatic. I felt my stomach drop. Something in my chest shifted then, like a fence post giving way. I pulled my hand back, slowly, and let her take the bottle.
“Sorry,” she said, voice a little rough.
“It’s fine,” I managed.
Under the table, my leg brushed hers again as I shifted. This time, I did not move away. Neither did she.
The spark that jumped through me before settled into a low-burning coil that did not go out.
Maddy, of course, saw all of it.
“So,” she said, voice casual, “are you guys dating?”
Tessa inhaled milkshake down the wrong pipe. I swore under my breath and thumped her gently between the shoulders until she stopped coughing.
“Mads,” I said, sharper than I meant.
“What?” she asked, genuinely puzzled. “I’m just asking.”
“We’re not, no,” Tessa said quickly. Too quickly. “We’re just neighbors.”
I felt that like a slap that I had no right to feel.
Maddy considered this, then looked at me. “You like her, though, Dad, I can tell.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Can we not have this conversation in public?”
“Why? Do you like to suffer in private?”
“Madelyn.” The full name came out. It rarely did. She grinned, knowing she hit a nerve, and mercifully dropped it. For now.
The thing was, she was not wrong.
Liking Tessa was not the problem. Wanting her was not the problem.
The problem was the timing. The weight of everything pressing on her shoulders.
The fact that someone was messing with her land, and she did not want to admit it.
The fact that I was already too invested, and getting more so by the hour.
The problem was sitting shoulder to shoulder with her while my kid tried to tug us closer with every question.
At some point while we were talking, I realized Tessa’s hand ended up on the bench between us. Mine was resting near my thigh. Another crowd shifted past the end of the booth, and the table bumped slightly. Her fingers slid sideways on the vinyl, brushing my knuckles.
This time, her hand did not jump away.
It settled there. Barely touching. Fingers curled in, the lightest contact.
I told myself it was nothing.
I told myself to leave it alone.
Then her little finger twitched, just the smallest shift, like a hesitant knock.
I exhaled slowly and turned my hand over, palm up.
If she wanted to move away, she could. There was all the space in the world.
Instead, after one long second, I felt her fingertips stroke my palm, like she was tracing a line. Then she slid her hand into mine.
I kept my eyes firmly on my plate. The world narrowed to the feeling of her hand, cool and damp from condensation, sliding against my skin. My fingers closed around hers on instinct.
She laced hers with mine under the table and squeezed once. A quick, desperate little press, like she needed an anchor and hated that it was me.
I could not remember the last time anyone had taken my hand and meant it.
Heat rolled up my arm, into my chest, settled somewhere stubborn.
We sat like that, side by side, shoulders touching, eating fries with our free hands and pretending we were not holding on to each other like a lifeline under the table.
Maddy was telling some story about her science teacher and an exploding experiment from last year.
I couldn’t have repeated a word of it if someone held a gun to my head.
All I knew was the pressure of Tessa’s fingers curled with mine. The way she stroked her thumb over the side of my hand once, absent-mindedly, like she had forgotten she was doing it. The way my own thumb answered, sliding over the back of her knuckles in a slow, soothing circle.
If she’d pulled away then, I would have let her. I would have said nothing. Instead, she held on a little tighter.
The waitress came back to check on us. I managed to act normally. Barely. Maddy asked for a refill on her milkshake. The girl smiled at us in that soft way people do when they are looking at something they think they understand.
“How are you all doing?” she asked. “Need anything else? Extra napkins, ketchup? This is so cute, out as a family for lunch.” The waitress didn’t read the awkwardness that overtook the booth, before she sighed and looked at the three of us again, before turning to leave.
“She must be new in town,” Maddy said, a frown on her face.
“Kathleen must be hiring her winter staff already,” I answered. Living in a tourist destination meant there were people coming and going all the time. Summer saw campers and hikers. In the winter, skiers, so there was always a revolving door of seasonal employees.
When she walked away, Tessa withdrew her hand from mine, ever so slowly, like she really was conflicted about letting me go.
She stared down at what was left of her burger, shoulders curling in. A flush crept up her neck. The real world came crashing back in. The word family lingered in the wake of the waitress’s joke.
“This was,” she started, then stopped. Her voice came out thin.
“Maddy talks too much,” I said, because humor was easier than whatever was threatening to rise.
“Hey,” my daughter protested.
Tessa shook her head. “She does not, take that back.” Both Maddy and Tessa glared at me. Great, they were already ganging up on me.
“I should go,” she said quietly. “I need to check in at the office, it’s my day off, but since I’m here, I’ll make sure Brooke’s not swamped.”
Maddy’s face fell. “Already? But we just got here.”
“Thank you for lunch,” she said. “Thanks for getting me out of the house.” Tessa’s smile was soft, and her attention was focused solely on my daughter.
Maddy nodded, recovering fast, determined to end this on her own terms. “You are absolutely invited to do it again.”
Tessa gave a strangled little laugh. “Thanks.”
Then she turned to me. Her gaze caught mine just long enough for me to see the storm still churning behind her eyes.
“Wyatt,” she said with a slight nod. Just my name, packed with a thousand things neither of us were ready to say.
“Tessa,” I answered.
That was all.
She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and walked away, weaving through the maze of tables, shoulders stiff, head bent. I watched her until the door swung shut behind her.
I kept watching the door long after it settled.
“You really like her,” Maddy said quietly.
I did not even pretend to misunderstand. I dragged a hand over my face and leaned back against the booth, feeling ten years older and also like my heart was beating too fast to belong to a man my age.
“It’s complicated.”
“It always is with you,” she replied, not unkindly.
I huffed out a humourless breath. “Yeah. Seems that way.”