I should’ve told Tessa from the beginning.Fuck that.I should have asked her if she was ok with all of this before it even started.Told her the team sees her as part of a strategy, whether I want that or not.But every time I open my mouth, the words dissolve on my tongue.Because I’m scared, and I am starting to realize that it has nothing to do with losing fans, or the captaincy, losing money...No.I am terrified of losing her.
And I cannot see my way out of this.Not yet.
So, I overcorrect.Hard.
It is fucking ridiculous, but I cannot help myself.I cannot stop this spiral.
I bought her boots, she admiredonce.
A jacket she lingered on fortwo secondsat the mall.
I sent coffee to the barn by afuckingcourier.
I send her voice notes whenever I get the chance.
I’m trying to fill whatever space is forming, trying to patch holes that weren’t there before she started slipping through my fingers.I cannot help but notice that, lately, every time she smiles, it’s fractionally smaller.Every time she texts, the warmth is there but dimmer around the edges.Is it just me?Is my guilt framing everything about us...?or...The panic coils deep.Quiet panic is the worst kind; it makes you look composed while you’re drowning.
But that isn't even the worst of it...
It’s a Tuesday.
Tessa meets me downtown after I do physio on a sore knee, we are trying to prevent an injury on.She’s wearing jeans she refuses to let me replace, her old brown boots, my hoodie under her worn jacket, and her hair is braided underneath one of her favourite hats.She doesn't have an ounce of makeup on, and she is still stunning.She looks like everything I didn’t know I needed until she walked into my life.
She feels like fresh air after being suffocated.Like the most real thing I have ever known in my whole life.Like I found something I never knew was missing.
We’re heading to dinner, her arm looped in mine, when I hear it.
“Nate?”
I freeze before I can school my expression.Because I know that voice...Because of course it'sher.
Brielle comes into view, shopping bags in one hand, perfect white blonde glossy hair, perfect everything.She is the exact opposite of Tessa.
Brielle looks Tessa up and down with clinical precision before smiling at me and stepping closer to my side, as if she still has the right.
“I didn’t know you two were still doing this...story.”
She lifts her brows.“Management must be thrilled.”
Jesus...Her word choice is intentional.It always is.
A story, not a relationship, not love.
A fucking story.
I feel Tessa’s whole body go still beside me, like she is locking up, shutting down.
My jaw grinds so hard that something might crack.I need to play this carefully.Does she know something, or is she just trying to mess with my relationship because she knows I am happy?I want to tell Brielle to get lost.To shove her words, back down her throat, but I don't want to make a scene or feed her ego.
“Good to see you,” I manage, voice flat.“We’re late.”
She gives that familiar saccharine smile.
“I’m sure you are.”
She walks away, and Tessa just stands there for half a second, looking at the ground like she dropped something and doesn’t know how to pick it back up.
“You okay?”I ask, reaching for her hand.
