“He purrs too.”
“Maybe when you’re around,” Tate chuckled, shifting the car smoothly into reverse.
The Porsche rolled forward, gliding past trucks adorned with massive Coyote flags and cars sporting team decals. The whole city seemed alive with celebration, a river of headlights and honking horns weaving through the night. Nettie’s chest swelled with pride as she stole another look at Tate.
“You did great tonight,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the hum of the road. “So what’s ‘Round Two’?”
His smile was small but genuine, fixed ahead on the highway. “Justin is stopping by to say ‘hello’ as a favor to me – and then I’m backing out of that whole mess between him and Gina,” he admitted, and then chanced a look at her. “I probably liked being captain for the night a little too much. I know Thierry is going to want it back, but it was sure good to have that moment, to feel what it was like… but…”
“But what?” Nettie prompted gently.
“It was a lot of pressure,” Tate confessed, his voice quieter now, weighted. He risked a glance at her, vulnerability flashing in his eyes. “I felt like the guys were all watching me, depending on me, and I was afraid to give them the wrong advice, to tell them the wrong thing.”
“You didn’t show it,” she assured him quickly.
“I tried to act like Thierry would in front of the team,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And that galls me to admit it. It’s easy to dislike the man, but not when you realize that he’s doing everything I want to be able to do. I loved being the captain for the game, but I’m not sure I’m ready for it completely. I mean, today was great—but what if we lost? What if I had to give a different after-game speech? Would theyhave listened? Would I alienate my team by letting my feelings show?”
“Oh, Tate…” Nettie’s heart ached at the raw honesty threading through his words and knew what it cost him to admit those words aloud to anyone. He exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the horizon.
“I guess that’s why I’m working on things with my therapist—because I want so many things to be different in my life, in my world. And it comes with finding ways to cope with my feelings other than blowing up or pushing everyone away all the time, and I see that now.”
Nettie sat in silence, her chest tightening with both admiration and tenderness. He wasn’t just the man who lit up the rink tonight—he was the man learning how to let himself be vulnerable, to let someone in. She felt so honored that it was with her. Of all the women in the world, of all the chances fate could have taken, it was her sitting here beside him.
Her.
She didn’t want to hide behind fear, excuses, or the comfortable distance she always maintained as friends. That moment was over, shattered, faded away with a knowledge that could only come with maturity and time. She was tired of fighting this feeling, of pushing away these hopes and dreams, the knowledge of who he was deep down… all of it.
It was changing now.
“Pull over,” Nettie whispered, her voice nearly drowned out by the hum of the tires against the asphalt.
She saw the flicker of hesitation in Tate’s profile—his hand tightening on the steering wheel, his jaw working as though fighting some unseen resistance. But it lasted only a heartbeat. He gave a sharp nod, flipped on the blinker, and guided the car off the highway. They rolled down a lonely frontage road, the world suddenly quieter, as if the rest of the universe had takena step back to give them this moment. He pulled into the half-lit parking lot of a hardware store, the fluorescent glow casting long shadows across the hood.
By then, she was already moving.
Her hands shook as she fumbled with the seatbelt, the metal tongue slipping from her sweaty grip before finally clicking free. A silent, unstoppable urgency drove her. It wasn’t attraction—though, heaven help her, that pulsed through her like wildfire—it was more. Pride. Admiration. A raw, reverent need to bridge the canyon she’d let stretch between them for too long.
Tate had grown, reshaped himself in ways she hadn’t thought possible. The boy she once knew had become a man—steady, resilient, determined. He had fought, battled, and clawed his way back home to find a place where he belonged, carrying scars both visible and invisible. He wanted captain and tonight he had it, he had his moment in the limelight – and was smart enough to know what it would take to maintain it; admitting a weakness to the one person he trusted. Her. He shared himself, his home, his hopes and dreams with her – and she understood so much now.
She needed to honor that. To honor that they were getting this second chance instead of shoving it away, frightened of what might come. They had both found their paths, who they were, and somehow, fate brought them here to this point again.
He had asked her—more than once—to meet him halfway. Tonight, she would finally stop running, stop dodging, and give them the chance they both deserved.
“Nettie…” His voice came low, wary, thick with an edge she couldn’t quite decipher.
“This is me, finally meeting you halfway,” she breathed, her courage trembling but holding.
She turned sideways in her seat, then pushed onto her knees. The small car gave her no room to move with grace. Her hipbumped the console, her shoulder clipped the visor, and her backside smacked into the dashboard hard enough to rattle the glove compartment. But she didn’t care. She reached for him anyway, one hand gripping the solid muscle of his shoulder, the other fisting into the knit of his sweater as if clinging to an anchor in a storm.
For a moment, everything stilled. His dark eyes lifted to hers, locking with an intensity that pinned her in place. They stared at one another across the tiny gulf of air, a fragile pause that seemed to suspend the world. She knew instinctively—this was it. The turning point. A moment that would alter the trajectory of everything between them.
“Halfway?” he breathed, his gaze flickering down to her lips with almost painful slowness.
“I’m here, halfway, for whatever this becomes between us…” she whispered back, her voice trembling with truth she hadn’t dared admit until now.
And then he closed the distance.
It wasn’t cautious. It wasn’t a measured, careful movement. No, this was a firm, irresistible pull forward, as though he had been holding himself back for far too long and simply refused to wait another second. Their mouths met, their noses bumped, but none of it mattered.
