It’s chaos—loud, messy, sticky with sugar. And she’s right in the middle of it, loving every second.
From the couch, Steven props his leg on the ottoman and laughs. “See? Tessa always ends up at the kids’ table.”
Tessa glances over, holding up her cookie. “Can’t help it. They’re more fun than the rest of you.”
The kids cheer like she’s just proved them right. She throws her arms up, laughing, glitter dusting her sweater and frosting smudged across her fingers. A few strands of hair slip loose and fall into her face.
I just stand there, watching. Because seeing her like this—laughing, relaxed, surrounded by my family—hits me hard. I’m already in too deep to back out now.
She’s on the rug with the twins, crayons everywhere, turning wrapping paper tubes into swords. One’s tucked against her side with crumbs on his shirt. The other leans into her leg, waving a coloring book and telling her she’s “doing the antlers wrong.”
Her voice is soft, calm in a way I’ve never heard before. She laughs, fixes the drawing, and hands the crayon back with asound effect. They eat up every look, every sound, every stupid little thing she does. They can’t get enough of her. She doesn’t care about the mess. Tessa talks too much, trips over her own feet, and hides behind sarcasm when you push her buttons. But with them? She doesn’t overthink or second-guess herself. She’s just… herself.
And it kills me. Because I fucking love her for it.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and grind my teeth until my jaw aches. My hands itch to wipe the frosting off her cheek, to pull her close, to tell her she has no clue what she does to me. Instead, I shove my hands deeper into my pockets, lean harder into the pillar like it’s the only thing keeping me upright, and stare at the floor, because if I keep looking at her, I’ll give myself away.
Erica jokes about stuffing Tessa in her suitcase and taking her home since the kids can’t get enough of her. And Tessa just stands there, laughing, glowing brighter than the damn tree, and it’s more than I can handle.
And then Evan drifts up beside me.
“Looks like you two survived the storm,” Evan says. His tone’s light, but the words have teeth. “Cozy cabin. Just you and her, huh?”
My jaw locks before I can stop it. “We managed.”
He laughs under his breath, the kind of sound that’s meant to pass as harmless but never is. “Bet that was… interesting.”
The way he says it hits like a jab. I don’t bite. With Evan, silence usually says more. But he doesn’t take the hint.
He shifts closer, shoulder bumping mine. It’s casual enough that no one else would think twice, but I know him. It’s a move meant to get a rise out of me. “She say anything about me?”
That one lands square in the jaw.
I slowly turn my head. “Why?”
He smiles, still watching her. “Just curious. Thought maybe she mentioned if she’s seeing anyone. Or if she mentioned me at all.”
I study him, trying to find the angle. It’s the same smug look he’s had since we were kids. The one that always showed up right before he did something he knew would piss me off. “I figured that ship sailed a long time ago.”
He shrugs, pretending not to care, but his grin slips a little. “Yeah, maybe. Timing wasn’t right. But she’s grown up, you know? She seems different now.” He glances at me, that fake-casual tone back in play. “Maybe I should give it another shot.”
The words hang heavy between us.
For a second, it’s like all the air leaves the room. He keeps talking, but I stop hearing him. The only thing cutting through is the rush of blood in my ears. The twins’ laughter, the scrape of a chair, Tessa’s voice—it all fades until it’s just that one sentence looping.Maybe I should give it another shot.
My fists curl at my sides, shoulders tightening. I can almost feel what it’d be like to put him through the wall just to shut him up.
Instead, I stand still.
Tessa’s a few feet away, kneeling on the floor, her hair falling loose as she leans over the coloring book. One of the twins smears frosting on her arm, and she laughs. Evan’s beside me, pretending to watch, but I can feel him waiting to see how far he can push before I crack. He’s always been good at that.
I press my tongue to the back of my teeth and swallow the words, trying to claw their way out. My jaw aches. My fingers twitch, itching to move—to reach for her, to do something.
What I want to do is grab her hand, pull her close, and walk out of here with her. I can see it play out in my mind. The drive back to the cabin, my hand resting on her thigh, away from everyone, where it’s just her and me.
But the noise around us keeps going. The twins start arguing over a crayon. Tessa breaks it in half so they both win. Evan chuckles softly beside me, like he’s enjoying the show.
I turn away before I do something stupid.
