Her throat tightened. “And now you think you are finally ready for something to happen between us?”
“What if it did? What if we became friends, talked, or…” He let the thought hang in the air, unfinished but heavy with possibility.
“Didn’t we already discuss this… and we still ended up arguing,” she reminded him, her voice low but firm. “I think we’re too different.”
“I thought opposites attract?” His tone had sharpened, but not with sarcasm—with conviction. His dark eyes deepened,their intensity pulling her in against her better judgment. “I’m very, very attracted to you, Sticks…”
Her breath caught, heat curling through her chest. That nickname landed differently this time. It shook something loose inside her, something she wasn’t ready to name.
“And for tonight, let’s just pretend,” he offered, the faintest edge of a plea threading his words. “We made it without fighting on the way here, let’s have a nice meal in peace, and then we’ll ride home together—again without fighting. Let’s see what that would feel like.”
“Fine,” she whispered, though the word came out softer than she intended. Almost tender. His fingers tightened just slightly around hers, steadying her, anchoring her. “Let’s see what a relationship would feel like if we attempted this.”
“You’re in?” he asked, the hope in his voice startling her.
“I’m in—are you?”
“Yup.”
Her lips twitched despite herself. “Should one of us say ‘Round One – fight’?”
“I’d prefer a little something different,” he chuckled, the sound low and warm. Then he threaded his fingers fully through hers, holding them there. His brown eyes softened into something that made her chest ache. “Try something else?”
Her pulse drummed in her ears. She could hardly breathe as the words tumbled from her lips. “Once upon a time,” she said, her voice barely more than breath, her gaze locked on his with staggering intensity. “There was a boy and a young girl…”
“Who waited for their moment,” he whispered, leaning in, his expression carved with something so earnest it nearly unraveled her. “And maybe it’s finally time.”
Her heart turned over, breaking and mending all at once.
“Maybe it is, Tate.”
CHAPTER 20
NETTIE
Okay,this isweird…
Back to the word of the day…
Nettie wasn’t sure how it had happened, but she and Tate were actually having a legitimate conversation—about nothing and everything all at once. She hadn’t expected this, not from him, not after the years of snide remarks, half-smiles, and that maddening wall he always kept up between them. But somewhere between the hashbrowns and his stories about the team, something had shifted.
He had let down his guard, just a little, and she could see the man she remembered from long ago—the one who used to make her laugh until her sides ached, the one whose crooked grin had once been irresistible. Tonight, that grin was back.
The way he laughed—it wasn’t just polite or forced—it was genuine, crinkling the corners of his eyes. The way he smiled—slow, wide, the kind that could melt right through her defenses if she let it. And the way he talked about the guys on the team, about their camaraderie and his hopes for captain— it was earnest, hopeful, almost boyish. And she got to see this version of him that no one else did.
She found herself telling him about the children at her daycare, their endless energy, their sticky fingers, and their wide-eyed innocence. He actually listened, leaning forward as though every silly story about finger-paint disasters and snack-time negotiations mattered. It made her heart twist in an unfamiliar way.
As their meal wound down, Tate stood, stretched, and with an almost sheepish smile, bought her several cherry sticks—her favorite. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he added a container of buckeye chocolates, sliding them across the counter with a little flourish – and a wink.
“You’re spoiled,” she teased, but secretly, it melted her a little inside and made a note of this. Tate had a weakness for buckeye candies.
They lingered a while longer, strolling past the glowing displays of sweets and old-fashioned treats. The fluorescent lights gave everything a warm, nostalgic glow, like childhood wrapped in sugar. Nettie excused herself for a quick trip to the restroom, needing a moment to gather herself, before stepping back into the cool night air.
The shift was immediate. Outside, the world was darker, quieter, the hum of the lights fading into the background. Tate was waiting, helmet in hand, his breath visible in the chilly air. She climbed onto the bike behind him, the cherry sticks tucked into the pocket of her sweatshirt, and his chocolates stowed carefully in the small compartment on the bike.
“I should have brought my Porsche,” he chuckled, rubbing his hands together briskly. “It’s gonna be a cold ride back.”
“Then I guess I’ll hold on tighter to you for warmth.”
