And I’m more grateful than ever that I came out the other side with Tessa beside me.
I climb the stairs two at a time, the weight in my chest replaced with something lighter.
“Tess?” I call out as I push the door open.
Her laugh drifts from the kitchen. “In here!”
Her scent hits me before I even see her. It’s warm and sweet, like cinnamon and sugar. When I step inside, I spot her in the kitchen, hair pulled up, drowning in one of my old Kolmont T-shirts that hangs halfway down her thighs. There’s flour everywhere—on her hands, smudged across her cheek, dusted over the counter, and even on the floor.
She turns when she hears me, that smile knocking the air out of me.
“Hey, Coach,” she teases. “You look tired.”
I drop my bag by the door, grinning. “You have no idea.”
She wipes her hands on a towel, though it doesn’t do much good, and walks over to wrap her arms around my waist. I glance down and catch another streak of flour now on my shirt, but I don’t care.
“Long day?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “But worth it.”
She leans back just enough to look at me. “Why’s that?”
I pull a folded sheet of paper from my jacket pocket and hand it to her. She takes it, eyebrows furrowed, then her eyes widen as she reads.
Her mouth falls open. “Wait… Clay—”
With a nod, I can’t stop the smile that’s been threatening to break through since practice ended. “It’s official. They offered me the job.”
Her jaw drops, and then she laughs. It’s the same carefree sound I remember from the night of our first date. She throws her arms around me, and I catch her easily, spinning her once before setting her down.
“Clay, that’s incredible,” she says against my chest, her voice thick with emotion. “You did it.”
Wedid, I think, but I don’t say it out loud.
“It took some convincing,” I admit. “And a hell of a lot of long nights. But we made the playoffs. They saw what we’ve been building here.”
She tilts her head up, smiling through the tears filling the brim of her eyes. “They’d be idiots not to keep you.”
I laugh, tracing my thumb along her cheek. “I don’t know about that. But I’ll take it.”
Her smile softens, her fingers brushing the edge of my sleeve. “You deserve this, Clay. Every bit of it.”
I start to say something, but she shakes her head, stepping in until we’re chest to chest. “And even if they hadn’t,” she adds, “that wouldn’t have changed anything.”
That catches me off guard.
She looks up at me, eyes clear. “If Kolmont hadn’t offered you the job, it just would’ve meant something else was waiting. You’ve always been more than hockey. More than a player. More than a coach.” Her hand rests over my heart. “That’s just the part everyone sees. But it’s not all of you.”
I don’t say anything. What could I possibly say to that?
She gives me a small, knowing smile. “You’re allowed to want this, to love it—but it doesn’t define you. You do.”
I swallow, my voice rough when I manage, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she says simply. “And I’m glad it means you’re staying.” A spark of excitement flickers across her face. “Because I just found out I got into the early education program for next year.”
It takes me a second to catch up. “You did?”
