Page 32 of Tessa and Nash

I laugh, sharp and humorless. “You say that like it’s a threat.”

“It’s a boundary,” she corrects.

I take a step back, then stop myself. Running would only confirm everything she thinks about me.

“You want a name?” I ask. “Is that what this is?”

“I want the truth,” she says. “For once.”

The silence stretches. Cold creeps in through my boots. My breath fogs between us, impossible to hide.

I could lie.

I could invent someone. Portland, maybe. Someone vague enough to never materialize.

I could tell her nothing and walk away, leave this as just another unresolved McCoy Long standoff.

But she’s standing there, watching me same as she always did in school, waiting to see whether I’ll rise or fold.

And suddenly I know, I’m not going to talk my way out of this.

I step closer.

Close enough that her breath stutters before she schools it away. Close enough that I can see the faint freckle near her jaw, the one I remember noticing years ago and pretending I hadn’t.

“What are you doing?”

Buying time, I think. Running out of exits.

I shake my head slightly, trying to clear it. “You always did this.”

“Did what?”

“Back me into a corner and wait,” I say. “Like you knew I’d crack first.”

Her eyes flicker. “Maybe I just didn’t let you get away with things.”

“That too.”

My heart is pounding now.

“Nash,” she says, more carefully now. “If you don’t want to answer, just say so.”

I look at her mouth.

I shouldn’t. I know better.

But my brain is scrambling, grasping for something, anything, that will stop this moment from tipping completely out of my control.

And the only thing I can think of is the worst possible idea.

I step in, close enough now that there’s no pretending this is accidental. I lift a hand, hesitating just long enough to register the heat of her skin before my thumb brushes her cheek.

“Nash…” she starts, warning clear in her voice.

I don’t let her finish.

I kiss her.