Then my phone buzzes against the table, cutting through the noise. I tear my eyes from hers and glance down, anything to stop myself from doing something I can’t take back.
Coach Sanders: Call me when you can. Merry Christmas.
The words on my phone barely register. Just an excuse to get my head straight.
“Everything alright over there, Clay?” her mom asks, cheerful but nosy in that way our moms can be. “You’ve gone quiet on us.”
I shove the phone into my pocket and force a small smile. “Yeah. Didn’t get much sleep last night, so I’m feelin’ it today.”
She nods, already turning her attention back to the kids. But it’s easier than admitting the truth—that the only thing wrong is sitting across from the girl I’m falling for, trying to pretend nothing’s changed.
I should feel hopeful. It’s the Kolmont coach about the interim position—the shot I’ve been chasing for months. But the thought settles heavily in my chest. Like something I’m supposed to want, but I don’t. Not with her sitting across from me.
As if he can sense it, Evan breaks the silence.
“So, Clay,” he says, voice easy but edged with curiosity, “what are you up to these days now that you’re not playing?”
The harmless question grates on my nerves. Maybe it’s the timing. Perhaps it’s the way his arm still rests along the back of her chair, like he has every right. Or maybe it’s because everyone’s watching and waiting for my answer.
“Just… figuring out the next step,” I say, keeping my tone even.
He nods, leaning forward a little. “You’ll land on your feet, man. Someone like you doesn’t stay out of the game long.”
It’s genuine. I know that much. But it still eats at me. The truth—that I’m up for a coaching job at Kolmont, the same damn school Tessa goes to—sticks in my throat. I can’t get the words out, not with her eyes on me, searching for something I can’t give.
“Yeah,” I say finally, lifting my mug to my lips. “Something like that.”
The coffee scalds my throat, but I welcome the burn. Anything to stop the words I’m not supposed to say from slipping out.
Evan smiles like he’s trying to be encouraging. “You’ll figure it out,” he says, reaching past Tessa for the syrup. His arm grazes her shoulder, and she laughs softly, moving just enough to make space.
He says something else, something stupid, and she laughs again. Louder this time. He eats it up, leaning closer, eyes locked on her mouth. I can’t call him out without giving us away, and that makes it worse.
Before I can make an excuse to leave, someone shouts from the living room that it’s time for presents. The kids drop their forks on their empty plates in a hurry, and everyone follows. I hang back, but somehow end up on the couch.
Tessa sits across the room beside Evan, coffee mug in hand, legs tucked beneath her. She looks happy and at peace around her family. If you didn’t know better, you’d never guess what happened between us last night. But I know. I remember every second of it. The way she looked standing in my doorway, the sound of my name slipping out of her mouth as she begged me. It’s all I can think about.
Evan slides a small wrapped box across to her, his grin easy. “Picked this up at the market downtown,” he says, like it’s no big deal.
Tessa blinks, caught off guard. “For me?” she asks, her voice a little too light, like she’s trying to play it off.
He nods. “Go on. Open it.”
She hesitates, unwrapping it slowly, like she’s trying to buy herself time. When she lifts the lid, a thin silver bracelet glints against the tissue paper.
“Oh,” she breathes, eyes flicking up to him, then around the room. “It’s… beautiful.”
Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. There’s a mix of surprise and something else there. Guilt maybe. Because she hadn’t gotten him anything. Because she didn’t think to get him anything.
Evan leans closer, lowering his voice. “Thought of you when I saw it. Couldn’t help myself.”
The harmless words are probably meant to be sweet, but they twist something tight in my chest. She blushes, fingers brushing the bracelet, her eyes darting up then down like she doesn’t know what to say. And I can’t look anywhere else.
My thumb brushes over the phone in my pocket, remembering the message waiting for me. Kolmont. The place where it all started—where I played, where they still know my name. It could be a clean slate. Maybe even the fresh start I need.
But all I can see is the way the light hits the bracelet on her wrist—and the memory of last night. Her standing in my doorway, wearing only red lace, whisperingMerry Christmaslike it meant more than it should. That was her gift. Herself. And now, she’s across the room pretending it never happened.
I shift in my seat, trying to focus on anything else. Evan continues to lean in close, talking low, his grin easy. It shouldn’tbother me, but it does. The way he looks at her. The way she doesn’t quite know where to look.
