Summer tilts her head, pretending to think about it. “And what makes you think she wants to talk to you?”
“I don’t,” I say, sharper than I mean to, so I soften my tone. “But I need to try. I need to fix this with her. To explain.”
That seems to land. The smirk falters for a second before she sighs, stepping back. “She’s not here. She is working tonight.”
The words sink in. Of course, she’s not here. “Thanks.”
She studies me for a second, tone turning wry. “If you’re going over there, Coach, maybe start with an apology? Or at least put in effort not to make this worse. She hasn’t smiled as much since she came back to campus, and that’s not my Tess.”
I don’t answer. Just nod once and turn for the stairs.
The laughter from down the hall follows me, the kind of careless laughter that used to come easy when my life wasn’t one long series of screwups. It fades as I hit the bottom floor and push the door open.
Outside, the air’s sharp and cold. My breath fogs as I unlock the truck I’ve been renting while I’m staying in Kolmont and climb in.
The drive’s short, but every red light feels like it’s dragging on just to mess with me. My mind keeps looping back to her—how she came to me, and instead of talking to her, I fucked her against a table, giving her yet another reason to feel like she didn’t matter to me.
She deserves to hear the truth, even if she never forgives me.
By the time I pull into the cracked lot behind Silver Spur, my knuckles are white on the steering wheel. The sound of muffled music leaks through the walls, then the low roar of a crowd ringing in another year.
The line to get in wraps around the side of the building. For a second, I just sit there, watching the steam rise from the hood, trying to find the words to say when I see her.
Then I cut the engine, grab my jacket, and step out into the cold.
I could turn around.
Tell myself it’s not the right time, not the right place.
But I refuse to let another night stand between us and telling her the truth. After waiting in line for twenty minutes, I decide to go around to the back door, where I assume they make deliveries. It’s one of the few times when my time playing hockey has come in handy. After throwing a hundred-dollar bill at the bouncer, he lets me in with a nod and a clap on the back.
The place is packed. The band’s getting ready to go on, the crowd already shoulder to shoulder, voices singing along to the house music while they wait.
And somehow, even in all this noise, I find her instantly.
She’s behind the bar, moving like she owns it. Her hair is twisted up, with a few strands falling loose around her face. She’s wearing a black shirt with a white towel slung over her shoulder. She leans over the bar to hear the customer, and when she pulls back, a smile curves on her mouth.
It makes me a selfish prick to be jealous of another man on the receiving end of that smile, but I don’t care. I want all her smiles. It’s the blush and the subtle freckles highlighting her cheeks that make it impossible to look away.
She looks… good. No matter what Summer said, she looks happy. Like her world has kept spinning without me.
I hang back near the wall. A server stops beside me, tray balanced on her palm. “You want something, hon?”
“Whiskey. Neat.”
She nods and disappears, then returns with a glass slick with condensation. I wrap my hand around it, but don’t drink it. I just watch her.
Tessa slides a drink down the counter, thanks someone for a tip, then tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The light above her catches the gold in her hair and the tired shadow under her eyes.
I finally take a sip. The burn steadies me.
She moves closer to my end of the bar, scanning the crowd. I’m not sure what I’ll say when I get her alone. I just know I need to saysomething.
Then she looks up.
Her eyes find me like she’s been expecting it. The noise drops out, the room fading around us.
Her hand stills around a bottle. My glass hovers halfway to my lips.
