Page 119 of How to Score Off Field

Drake would be gagging right now if he heard my thoughts.

A faint smile tugs at my lips as I imagine her in the other bedroom. The thought of being close to her, holding her, and feeling her body's warmth against mine ignites a fire within me. I want to kiss away any worries she might have, to make her feel cherished and desired ’cause I’ve done a shitty job of it so far.

But we can't ignore the complexities of our situation.

Grady's interference and the colossal fuck up created all stands between us. It’s a barrier I'm not sure how to overcome.

And then there's the practicality of it all. How will we make this work when we live so far apart?

As I toss and turn, my mind dances between desire and uncertainty.

It's more than just physical attraction. It's a longing to connect on a deeper level, to bridge the gap. I want to be there for Tess, not just as the father of her child, but as someone who cares about her well-being and happiness.

Is that strange?

The moonlight shifts, casting patterns on the walls, and I find myself lost in thought. I know it won't be easy. We're navigating uncharted territory, trying to find a way through the mess. But I'm more determined than ever to see where this path leads.

With a sigh, I close my eyes, the image of Tess's smile still vivid in my mind. The pull between us is undeniable, and as I drift into a fitful sleep, I can't help but hope that somehow, against all odds, we'll find a way to be together. Not just in the other bedroom but in a way that encompasses all the complexities of our feelings and the future we might share.

Do not go into her room.

Let her sleep.

But she wasn’t tired when we came to bed—she had that nap.

I can check on her. That’s not a crime.

And if she isn’t sleeping or tired, we can talk some more. Lord knows we have years’ worth of stuff to discuss.

I stand before her bedroom door, heart hammering against my rib cage.

Should I even be doing this? What if she wants her space?

I need to know how she's feeling, if she's okay, and if there's a chance for us to bridge the gap that's formed between us. They don’t call me the Sensitive Colter for nothing…

With a quiet exhale, I gently knock on her door. "Tess?"

“Hmm?”

She’s awake, and the television flows like a night-light.

I nudge the door open, revealing Tess in a loose-fitting shirt that accentuates her very small baby bump. Her hair is slightly tousled, and her eyes hold a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

"Drew? Is everything okay?" Her voice is soft, tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

"Yeah. Yes. Everything is fine. I just, I couldn't sleep," I admit, my gaze locking onto hers. "And I thought...maybe we could talk? As long as you’re not too tired."

The room is bathed by the television light, casting a cozy atmosphere that's a stark contrast to the tension that's been swirling around us.

I wish like hell I had something funny to say.

“No, I had that nap, remember?” Still, she yawns, which is a good sign, considering it’s so late.

She pats the mattress. “Don’t be shy. Sit.”

I sit, sprawling out when she makes room for me.

“On a scale of one to ten, how tired are you?” she asks.

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