By the time I get behind the wheel, the silence is thick. The heater blows warm air that fogs the windshield before the defroster catches up. For a while, neither of us says anything.
Halfway to my place, she finally breaks the silence. “You showed up at the dorm.”
It’s not a question. Just a statement. I’m not even sure how she knows, but I’m guessing Summer told her.
I tighten my grip on the wheel, eyes on the road. “Yeah.”
She turns toward me. “Why?”
“I told you,” I say, my voice deep. “I meant what I said. I wanted to talk to you, and if it meant coming to your dorm or waiting outside of the bar all night, I was going to do what I had to do.”
Her brows knit, suspicion written all over her face. “And what, you thought showing up here at three in the morning would fix it?”
“No,” I admit, glancing over at her. “But doing nothing sure as hell wasn’t helping.”
She breathes out slowly and drops against the seat, eyes on the window as the town slips by in a blur of streetlights.
After a beat, I add, “You’ll have to excuse the mess at my apartment. I have a place, but I haven’t exactly had time to unpack or make it livable.”
That earns a quiet laugh.
I glance over, one brow raised. “What’s funny?”
She turns her head just enough to smirk. “Wow, didn’t havemessy apartmenton my Clay Barlowe bingo card. Didn’t think you even knew how to live in chaos.”
I huff out a low laugh despite myself. “Yeah, well. Turns out even control freaks crack sometimes. Just… don’t tell anyone. I’ve got an image to keep.”
She studies me for a long moment. “So, look at you, doing the whole hockey coach thing.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Coach Rudnick is retiring at the end of the year. I’ve been filling in, learning more about this part of the job. Well, trying to prove I belong more than anything, so when he leaves, I’m ready to step in.”
She sighs. “So that’s what this is all about? You making sure nothing interferes with your shot at this job?”
I shake my head. “No.” My voice cracks before I can stop it. “This is about you. About what I should’ve said that last night in Briar Creek and didn’t.”
The words hang heavy in the air, thick as the fog on the windows. She doesn’t respond, just looks back out at the street, her reflection hard to read in the glass.
When I pull into the small parking lot behind my building, neither of us moves for a long moment. I finally turn toward her, the words rough on my tongue. “Come inside, Tess. Let me say what I should’ve said weeks ago.”
Her hands tighten around the strap of her purse.
“I’m not asking for the week back. I don’t regret a single moment of the time we spent together,” I tell her. “I’m asking fora chance to explain. To try to fix this between us because I don’t want to lose you.”
My confession fills the silence, leaving nowhere to hide. She finally glances up at me, and I start to feel her anger soften, and then finally she exhales. A tired, defeated sound.
“Okay,” she says.
The relief feels like air after drowning.
She beats me to the door. Before I even make it around the front of the truck, she’s shutting hers and meets me on the sidewalk.
The building isn’t much. It’s honestly pretty sterile, but I needed a place with security, and there wasn’t much available on such short notice.
I lead her to the second floor, and every step of the way, her body screams distance. She’s still here, though, and that’s more than I deserve.
When we reach my door, I unlock it and push it open, immediately wishing I’d thought ahead and stopped by here to make the place look less pathetic.
The apartment is bare. One look and it’s obvious that someone’s living here, but they haven’t quite figured out how yet. Boxes line the wall, and most of them are still packed. There are a couple open on the counter, but only the ones I needed to cook and meal-prep for the week.
