Page 213 of Tessa and Nash

Her hand’s resting a little too close to mine. We’re trying to keep it professional, but I can feel that pull between us, the one that’s always been there, always unspoken. Her presence makes everything else feel just a little easier, and I can’t help but glance at her, watching the way she handles the tension.

When it’s her turn to speak, I watch her closely. Her posture’s perfect, her back straight and unyielding, but there’s a difference in the way she’s holding herself.

“I’m here to talk about the past,” she says, as she surveys the room. “The past that’s been used against us for too long.”

I feel her words before the council even responds. Everyone in this room knows the story. It’s been whispered for years, how our families were once allies, then how we became rivals. But Tessa’s not just retelling the same tired narrative. She’s bringing it to life. She’s pulling back the curtain on everything that’s been buried under layers of silence and resentment.

“The handshake agreement between the McCoys and Longs,” she continues, flipping through the pages of one of the journals she brought with her. “It wasn’t just about land. It was about respect. Mutual respect that both families worked hard to build.” She looks up, locking eyes with the council, and I can feel the room shift. “That respect was lost, but it wasn’t lost overnight.”

She flips another page, and I can see the faint tremble of her fingers.

“There was grief. There was loss. And after that, silence. The kind of silence that turned what should’ve been an agreement into a rivalry. A rivalry that was only fueled by misunderstanding.”

She pauses, giving the room a moment to catch up. The council is watching her closely, waiting for what comes next. I watch her, too. She’s stronger than I expected. She’s carrying all of this with so much grace, it’s as if the years of tension never existed.

“I’m not here to blame anyone,” she says. “I’m not here to point fingers. What I’m here to say is this…" She looks at me briefly, a quiet signal between us, a reminder that we’re in this together now, "I refuse to let either family weaponize history again. We’re done with that.”

The council shifts uncomfortably, their gaze flickering between Tessa and me. Some people nod slightly, while others remain tight-lipped, clearly unsure how to react. But Tessa doesn’t flinch.

She’s made her point, and now she’s watching them, waiting for them to process what she’s just dropped on them.

“I refuse to let either family weaponize history again,” she says, her eyes never leaving the council members.

The air feels heavier in the room. Tessa doesn’t flinch at their stares. She’s here, and she’s speaking her truth.

I take a step forward, my hand brushing the microphone. When I speak, it’s as if I’m not addressing the council anymore. It’s just me, Tessa, and everything we’ve been through.

“I’m not here to make excuses for what happened,” I start, “The truth is, I lied about being engaged to Tessa.” I let that sit in the room this time. No rushing past it. No trying to soften it. “I wanted to be taken seriously. I thought if I looked settled, people might finally believe I was.” I glance at Tessa, then back at the council. “Turns out, pretending doesn’t make anything stronger. It just makes the fallout worse.”

I wait for someone to speak, but no one does, so I continue.

“What’s real,” I continue, “is that somewhere in the middle of all that mess… this stopped being fake. And I’m not going to use that, use her, to fix my reputation or push this plan through. Because I am in love with her.”

A soft gasp from the crowd. The room holds its breath for a beat, and I’ve just exposed everything. But there’s no turning back now. This is the truth, and I’m not hiding from it.

Tessa’s gaze is firm, even as she looks at me, and I can see that flicker of understanding in her eyes. She’s not going to pull back now. She’s here, with me, and whatever happens next, we’re in this together.

I finish with, “We’re not perfect. But I don’t want to hide behind old stories anymore. I want to build something new with her. And that means being honest, even when it’s hard.”

The silence that follows is heavy, but I can feel there’s a shift.

Maybe it’s understanding. Maybe it’s hesitation.

Then, Tessa’s uncle stands. The scrape of his chair against the floor is deafening. It slices through the room. He doesn’t look at us. Doesn’t even glance in our direction. His eyes are fixed on the door as he storms out, quick, sharp strides, the sound of his footsteps louder than anything I’ve said.

The door slams behind him.

The entire town watches him go… frozen. Not a word.

But his exit? It’s a statement.

The game has changed.

Tessa doesn’t flinch at his departure. She doesn’t even glance toward the door. Instead, she turns back to the council, her voice as calm as before, but with a clarity I didn’t know she had until now.

“This isn’t about us trying to fix what’s broken by doing more damage. This is about moving forward, making a plan that works for the future of both families.” She pauses, and in that moment, I can feel the shift between us. We’ve been through it all, and now it’s time to trust that this plan will work, that we’ll make it work. “We’re not asking for your approval, not in the way you think we are. We’re asking for a chance to do this right.”

Her words sink into the silence. The council murmurs, their heads turning slightly, and this time I don’t feel I’m speaking to a wall. I don’t feel we’re up against a brick wall anymore.