He kissed the tip of her nose, then forced himself to let go, stepping out of the room before he changed his mind.
Beth didn’t bother changing or brushing her teeth. She just climbed into the big bed, curling up beneath the covers, and reached for her Bible on the nightstand. She cradled it against her chest for a moment and closed her eyes in prayer.
She meant to pray. She meant to read.
But her eyelids fluttered shut... and stayed that way.
In the morning, she wouldn’t remember if she had whispered a single word to God—or if she’d fallen asleep the second her lashes touched her cheeks.
“Spill,” Brock said the moment Bryce came down the stairs. He was leaned back against the couch, root beer in hand, wearing a knowing grin. “There’s more to this marriage than you’re letting on.”
Bryce raised a brow, cautious. “What do you mean?”
Brock snorted. “What do I mean? Dude. Brah. You might’ve tried to push me away back when you threw your tantrum and ghosted God—but I’ve known you since you wore socks with sandals, thought AXE body spray was a personality trait, and cried when your gel-spiked hair didn’t survive a church pool party.”
Bryce groaned. “Another thing you promised never to bring up.”
“Yeah, well,” Brock grinned, “you also promised not to get married without telling me, so I figure we’re even.”
Bryce winced. “Wow. Low blow.”
“Exactly,” Brock said, pointing the bottle at him. “I know you. You might be married, and yeah, you’re clearly deep in the set for your wife—but when I walked back in with sustenance, she looked half ready to bolt.”
Bryce didn’t answer. His jaw worked, but no words came.
“Ahhh, I knew it,” Brock said, his tone softening. “Something went down. Not asking for details that aren’t mine to know. But I know you, brah. I know the look you get whenthe wave drops, you’re going over the falls and you get ragdolled.”
Bryce groaned and rolled his eyes. “You and the surfing metaphors…”
He gestured loosely between them. “You’ve made peace with the Father. I see it. Your eye hasn’t twitched once when I’ve talked about God. That alone? Tells me everything.”
Bryce exhaled, pressing his palms against his knees. “It’s been... a ride.”
Brock nodded, easy and steady. “Waves don’t scare me. Just tell me you’re not trying to paddle through it alone.”
Bryce gave him a look—half exhausted, half amused. “Seriously? Another surfing metaphor?”
Brock winked. “What can I say? That metaphor had swell potential.”
Bryce laughed and settled down and grabbed a root beer off the coffee table.
Bryce exhaled, head resting against the back of the couch.
“Work trip in Vegas. Woke up married. No idea how. Beth didn’t either.”
Brock leaned back, stretching his legs. “So, did you give your heart back to God right then and there?”
Bryce smiled, eyes misty. “Yeah. Holding that marriage license, I just knew... I couldn’t live for myself anymore.”
Their voices drifted like a current—sometimes surfacing, sometimes fading into the hush of the late hour. The soft lamplight pooled over the coffee table, warming the wood,
wrapping them in a quiet brotherhood.
“I took her for a hike and proposed,” Bryce murmured later, his eyes far away. “Wanted her to have a real ring and not miss out on having that moment. An engagement story to tell.”
That moment had marked something new. Not the beginning of a perfect romance—but the first honest step. They hadn’t figured everything out on that trail, but the path forward had started there.
The hours melted. They talked about love. About grace. About what it meant to return home.
