Chapter 17 - Nate
The only thing that’s been keeping me sane is the back-and-forth texts with Tessa.
The dreams haven’t stopped.Every night it’s her, red hair flashing, sunlight catching the dust in the paddock, the sound of the impact that I’ll never get out of my head.The guilt has teeth now.It doesn’t gnaw; it devours.
I’d texted her the next morning, after harassing Kenzie for an update.She told me Tessa wouldn’t be at the farm, that she had other clients, other work, a life outside our family chaos.
Me:You were mean
Red:You ok, muffin?
Me:Is that how it’s gonna be?
Red:Do you mince words with your team when you’re on the ice, Captain?
Me:…
Red:Neither do I.That bull’s worth a lot.He’s part of your family’s whole business plan to grow.
Red:Fine.I am sorry.I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.
Me:I knew you liked me.
Red:Ugh.Don’t get your hopes up.
Me:Youlikeme.
Red:I don’t think I know who you are yet.
And just like that, the messages became habit, a pulse between us that hummed under everything else.The guys and I had spent two more days at the ranch trying to make up for the mess that started with Sloane and ended with Tessa getting hurt.We fixed the fencing, hauled feed, rebuilt the busted water line, helped harvest some of Mom's market vegetables and even helped move cattle.Eli still barked orders like I was twelve, but something was grounding about it.The rhythm of work.Sweat, dirt, ache, things that didn’t give a damn about press coverage.
Mom said she was proud of me when we pulled up on the last morning.Dad just nodded once and went back to fixing the hitch on his truck.I told them I had to go back to the city for a meeting, but I would be back as soon as I could.
Mom sighed, that sad kind of sigh that saysI love you, but I will miss you.
Eli didn’t even bother pretending.“Sure you do,” he muttered.“We’ll see you at Christmas.”
I didn’t correct him.Didn’t trust my voice not to crack.
Because the truth is, I earned everything they were dishing out.
By the time I hit Summit City, my chest felt tight.The air’s thicker here, like breathing through cloth.There’s no wind, no space between sounds.Just sirens, traffic, the hum of something always wanting more.
The penthouse looks exactly like I left it, floor-to-ceiling glass, untouched kitchen, the kind of silence that mocks you.I shower, but the scent of hay and sun-warmed earth clings to my skin like it doesn’t want to let go.
I stand at the window and try to remember why this was supposed to be the dream.
The view.The money.The fame.
But all I can think of is how the morning light hits Tessa’s hair, and how the farm smells like belonging.
Then my phone buzzes, and my chest squeezes.
Coach Harrison:You'd better be at the meeting tomorrow.Decker wants everyone.Noon.
The boardroom smells like stale coffee and money.Ray Decker sits at the head of the table, perfectly tanned and styled.Coach Harrison leans back in his chair, arms crossed.Beside him, Assistant Coach Bishop watches everything, quiet and assessing.
The table is filled out by my team.Reeves looks annoyed that he is being dragged away from Olivia.Anders has that half-grin he uses when he knows he’s about to stir shit.Jensen’s posture is calm, neutral, hiding whatever he’s thinking.Gabe Duarte sits still as stone, arms folded, our enforcer with monk energy.Misha Petrov’s massive frame takes up the space of two chairs; he’s already pulled out jerky from somewhere and is quietly chewing.Dante Rinaldi’s in a blazer like he’s heading to a red carpet, legs crossed, smirk in place.
