“Let me do this—please,” he said simply, his voice low but insistent, careful not to sound like he was begging. Even though that’s what it felt like—begging her to let him in, for a chance.He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees, watching the kitten bounce and spring. “This is what friends do… and even if I’m annoying, I’d like for us to attempt to become friends or something more.”
The silence on the other end was thick. Tate pressed the phone harder to his ear, straining to catch the faintest sound. He didn’t hear her words at first—just the wet hitch of her breath. A sniffle. His chest tightened. He could picture her perfectly: eyes red-rimmed, cheeks flushed, brushing away tears with the back of her hand.
“What did he say—oh my gosh—are you crying? TATE JACKSON CASSIDY WHAT DID YOU DO?”
The shrill voice in the background nearly made him wince, though it tugged a laugh out of him anyway. Leave it to Gina to explode like a firecracker when things got sensitive.
“Nettie, tell her to calm down,” he said gently, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. He rubbed at the back of his neck, heat crawling up his skin at the idea of having this conversation broadcast. “I don’t want to talk about this with an audience around either of us.”
“I don’t either.”
“Then please tell my sister that I said ‘shut up and enjoy your free car, you ungrateful sibling’…”
There it was—that fragile, tearful chuckle on Nettie’s end, like sunlight finally breaking through rainclouds. His heart lifted just hearing it.
“But… wait… I thought Gina traded in her car?” Nettie whispered, confusion slipping into her tone. He could hear the way she angled the phone away from herself, lowering her voice as if Gina might be eavesdropping on their conversation. “You bought her that car?”
Tate leaned back against the headboard, exhaling.
“I told her to say that because I don’t need it all over the news that I bought my parents and my sister a new car with my signing bonus.”
“I didn’t know…”
“I didn’t tell you—nor did I expect you to know,” he explained, his tone careful, honest. He stared at Mulligan now sprawled on his back, legs in the air, daring Tate to scratch his belly. “But it gave me peace of mind, so I did it. So, do me a favor and please don’t argue with me. Let me do this because it makes me feel good inside, and I can relax.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s already handled,” Tate replied, and he hesitated for a moment, his throat tightening with the truth he’d never admitted out loud. “Just don’t get mad at me. I can handle a lot, but I really don’t like that. It takes me from frustrated to superbly pissed-off when you’re upset.”
The pause that followed made his stomach clench, but Nettie’s voice came softly, filled with something he couldn’t quite name. “I felt like you weren’t listening to me last night, ignoring what I wanted.”
“I was listening—and I’m trying.”
“I see that,” she said quietly, almost like a truce. Then she cleared her throat, her tone shifting, lighter now. “Would you like to come over for coffee sometime? Just to chat and talk?”
His heart gave a kick against his ribs, and he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “I’d love that.”
“Weekends are better for me.”
“My schedule is screwy, so maybe we can figure it out?” he offered, the hope in his chest battling with the careful calm he tried to maintain. Then he smirked faintly. “Oh my gosh, is Gina still making a scene back there?”
The sound of Nettie’s soft chuckle washed over him like warmth. He grinned and finally reached out to scratchMulligan’s tummy, only for the little monster to immediately turn the affection into a feral attack. Tiny paws clutched at his hand, teeth nibbling with reckless abandon. Tate hissed under his breath but laughed anyway, letting the kitten win.
“Yeah,” Nettie whispered. “She’s mad because I walked away so we could talk privately.”
“You should do that more often,” he teased, flexing his fingers free from Mulligan’s claws.
“Or maybe we should talk – and not just on the phone.”
“I’d like that too,” he admitted openly, the words carrying more honesty than he’d offered anyone in weeks. Saying it out loud felt like undoing a knot inside his chest, one that had been pulled tight with silence and stubbornness. He exhaled slowly, the tension easing as he added, “Maybe we could talk later or tomorrow? I’m heading to the gym shortly, and then I have practice.”
Her voice came warm and teasing through the speaker. “Sounds like I’m heading to the dealership to get my car—and write a thank you note for four tires.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, though his lips pressed together to smother the retort that leaped to the tip of his tongue. He could have said something sarcastic—something about how most people wrote checks instead of thank you notes—but for once, he didn’t want to spoil the moment. Instead, he swallowed down the comeback and let it rest unspoken, forcing his grin to stay quiet. Leaning back, his head thudded gently against the wall, a small sigh escaping him as the coil in his chest finally unwound.
“Sounds good,” he said lightly, almost casually, but his smile was real. “Talk to you later then.”
There was a beat of silence, the kind that made him wonder if she was about to hang up. But then her voice came again, softer this time, hesitant in a way that made him sit up straighter.
