That stung in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
“I’m not trying to convince myself of anything,” I said, sitting up straighter.“He’s just under pressure.The media stuff, the season starting...It’s a lot.We are still new and juggling a lot.”
“Maybe,” Adam said carefully.“Or maybe that’s just who he is when the season starts.Captain Carson.”
My spine went rigid.“What is that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t flinch.Adam rarely did.“I’m saying the version of him you get in Hawthorne Ridge is not the version the world gets during the season.That doesn’t make either one fake or bad.But it does mean there’s more than one version of him.And you should pay attention to the one you’re with the most and how that makes you feel.”
Heat flared through my chest, defensiveness, fear, I don’t know.
“Iampaying attention,” I said.“And I know who he is.”
Chase lifted his hands in surrender.“We’re not saying you don’t.Just… don’t ignore yourself.You always know when something feels off.You can read people.It’s like your freaky superpower.”
I scoffed.“My superpower is knowing when a horse is about to kick or when a goat is plotting an escape.”
“Exactly,” Chase laughed, leaning back.“Don't ignore your instincts.”
“I don’t need to overthink everything,” I shot back.“Maybe I just need to get used to all this media stuff.Maybe you two don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Their eyes softened, not sharpened.
“Maybe,” Chase agreed quietly.“And maybe you just needed someone to say it out loud so you can decide what you actually feel.”
I hated how that pierced straight through the thin armour I’d been patching together these past few weeks.
Adam nudged the plate toward me.“Eat.And breathe.You don’t owe us an explanation.We just want you happy, T.”
“Yeah,” Chase added.“And if you are, then that’s the only thing that matters.”
We let the conversation drift after that, back to harmless teasing, fall rodeo plans, and which of Adam’s terrible playlists should be banned from the pub stereo.We discussed plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but something inside me stayed tangled.A small, quiet knot that hadn’t loosened yet.And as much as I hated to admit it… They weren’t entirely wrong.
Later that night, I crawl into my bed alone, his hoodie drowning me, and I tell myself:
You’re being dramatic.
You’re overthinking.
You trust him.
He loves you.
You’re fine.
But my stomach doesn’t believe me.
Because something in him is shifting.
Something inus.
And even though I’m falling for him so hard it’s borderline reckless, part of me, the part shaped by old wounds and old disappointments, is waiting for the floor to give way.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Trust him, Tessa.You chose this.You chose him.Don’t run at the first sign of fear.Don’t ruin something good because you’re scared.
But still…
