Page 108 of Tessa and Nash

And my dream is tied to it as a rope around my ribs.

If the ranch fails, I fail.

If my dream fails, I’m just… Nash. The fun one. The one everyone pats on the head.

Tessa’s voice is careful. “You don’t strike me as someone who’s afraid of anything.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “That’s because I’m good at pretending.”

“Why?”

I stare at her, and everything inside me shifts.

Because she’s not asking to win.

She’s asking to understand.

And that’s worse.

Because understanding means she can see me.

And if she sees me… she might reject me.

Or she might stay.

Both possibilities terrify me.

“Because if I don’t pretend,” I say quietly, “then everyone will notice I’m not enough.”

Tessa’s face goes still.

The kitchen feels smaller. The house quieter. Even the radiator seems to pause to listen.

“That’s not true,” she says automatically.

“Yeah,” I murmur. “It is.”

She steps closer, almost unconsciously. “Nash⁠—”

“I’ve been the fun one my whole life,” I continue, words spilling now because they’ve been held too long. “Boone is steady. Dallas is solid. Clay is… Clay. Even when he screws up, people expect him to fight his way back.”

Tessa’s eyes soften, just barely.

“And me?” I laugh, bitter. “I’m charming. I’m good in a room. I make people laugh. I make it easier. Which is great until you need someone to take you seriously.”

Tessa shakes her head. “They’re wrong.”

I shake my head. “No. They’re not. I’ve given them every reason.”

“Because you were young?”

“Because I was scared,” I admit.

Silence.

Outside, the wind presses against the house. Snow keeps falling.

Inside, the only thing moving is my chest rising and falling, trying not to drown.