Page 97 of Tessa and Nash

I push.

“You’re acting like my family is the villain,” I say. “But your family benefited too. You read it. We repaired fences, maintained the land, and shared profits. It wasn’t one-sided.”

Tessa’s voice is a razor. “And then you filed a claim.”

“And you shut the door,” I shoot back. “You cut us off. You turned it into war.”

She steps closer, face inches from mine. “Because you made it war.”

My breath catches.

Because she’s so close, I can smell her. Bergamot and leather and that crisp winter pine that makes my brain short-circuit.

Because her eyes flick to my mouth, same as they did in the kitchen.

Because my own body is making decisions my mind can’t keep up with.

“This is why we shouldn’t be doing this,” she says, shaking now too. “This is bigger than⁠—”

“Than us?” I finish, and it comes out rough.

“Yes.”

I swallow hard. “But it is us now.”

Tessa’s breath stutters.

Her eyes harden, and I think she’s going to do the smart thing.

She’s going to step back and slam the door on the whole messy human part of this.

But then her gaze drops to my hand, still holding the journal, knuckles white, and everything shifts.

She looks… tired.

“I hate this,” she whispers.

I nod, throat tight. “Me too.”

Her eyes lift to mine again, and everything between us is humming.

Then she says, almost angry, “You’re a disaster.”

I let out a rough laugh. “I know.”

“And you’re…” She cuts herself off because the word got stuck. She almost said something she can’t take back.

I don’t let her retreat.

“Say it,” I whisper.

Her jaw clenches. “No.”

“Tessa,” I say, softer. “Say it.”

“You’re… not what I thought.”

I can’t breathe right.