She turns to face me, eyes hooded in the low light.
I kiss her again, slower this time, deeper, until the rest of the world falls away.
She tugs at my shirt, impatient, and when I pull it over my head, she drags her nails down my chest, leaving faint red trails that make my lungs seize.
“Tessa,” I rasp.
The air hums between us, hot, alive.Every touch feels like something I shouldn’t have but take anyway.My hands memorize her: the dip of her waist, the soft inside of her thighs, the tiny scar near her hip.I get lost in the feel of her, in her scent, in her panted breaths.
When I push inside her, it’s not about sex, it’s about connection.About needing to feel something honest after a day built on half-truths and angles.
She gasps, clutching at me, and I breathe her name into her skin.
The rhythm builds, breaks, reforms.
She pulls me closer, whispers something against my neck I can’t catch.
All I know is the way her body moves with mine, like we’ve done this forever.
When it’s over, she collapses against me, her heartbeat syncing to mine.
I press my lips to her temple and finally say the thing that’s been clawing to get out all week.
“I love you, Tessa.”
She stills.Her head lifts just enough for her eyes to find mine.
There’s no hesitation, just warmth.“Say it again.”
“I love you.”
Her mouth finds mine, slow and sure, like she wants to brand the words into her skin.
And when she drifts to sleep, tucked into my arms, I lie there wide awake, tracing circles on her back and convincing myself that I can have it all.
Her.
The season.
That the lie is buried deep enough, it’ll never come back up.
Because losing her isn’t an option.
Chapter 26 - Nate
I left for the rink today with a smile on my face because of her.She sent me a selfie on the back of a horse, with the rolling pastures and mountains in the background, letting me know she is thinking of me and cannot wait to see me on the ice tonight.
My smile held all the way to the rink when I patted my pocket, thinking about the gift I had for Tessa, and didn't drop until Jamie came running up, asking for confirmation that Tessa would be at the game and verifying her seat number.
Home openers always feel different, that charged mix of nerves, anticipation, and expectation.
You can feel it before you even hit the tunnel.The fans pounding on the glass, the energy that lights me up from within, the music and the excitement.
But tonight, there’s something else in the air.
Her.
When I step out for warmups, I scan the lower bowl automatically, a ritual I don’t admit to anyone, where I casually scan the season seats I bought for my family.The ones that, lately, sit empty or are filled with unfamiliar faces.But tonight, I am not looking for them, I am looking for her.It doesn’t take long.
