“I missed it,” she continued, voice shaking. “I missed the sticky hands and the songs and the routines and the way she checks to make sure I’m still there. I missed the feeling of being someone’s home.”
Dusty’s arms tightened. “Yes,” he said gently. “Olive woke something primal in you. That does not mean your past was wrong. It means your heart has more room than you thought.”
Tessa shook her head, tears soaking his shirt.
“I wish I could do it over,” she moaned. “I wish I could go back and be different. I wish I could take every moment I ran from something serious and shake myself by the shoulders and say, ‘Stop. Stop running.’”
Dusty lifted her face slightly, not forcing her to look at him, but making sure she could hear him.
“You did what you could with what you had,” he said firmly. “Your younger self was making decisions with the information and the fear and the pressure she had at the time. You cannot punish her forever for not being the woman you are now.”
Tessa’s breath hitched. “But it hurts.”
“I know,” he said simply. “It hurts because it mattered.”
Tessa pressed her face back into his chest, shaking. “I am alone,” she whispered, the fear underneath the grief finally surfacing. “I always end up alone.”
“No,” he said, his voice sharp with conviction “Not anymore.”
Tessa pulled back slightly, eyes swollen. “Dusty?—”
“I love you,” he said, steady and clear. “I love you, Tessa Wylie. I am not saying it because you are sad. I am saying it because it is true. I want a life with you. A real one.”
Her tears spilled again, slower now, heavier.
Dusty cupped the back of her head gently, anchoring her. “Listen to me,” he said. “We can build a life that honors what you just discovered about yourself. This does not have to be the end of something. This can be the beginning of something.”
Tessa’s voice shook. “How?”
Dusty exhaled slowly, thinking for a minute. “We can foster,” he said. “If you want to. We can take in kids who need routine and safety and parents. You are good at that. You did it without even realizing you were doing it.”
Tessa swallowed hard, imagining it, and the image hurt and soothed at the same time.
“We can get dogs,” Dusty continued, a faint smile in his voice. “We can get a ridiculous number of dogs if that makes you happy. We can have a house that is loud and messy and full of life. We can do that together.”
Tessa’s throat tightened as she caught the image he was describing. “We can babysit Atlas. And maybe Lacey and Roman will have kids. I’ll be Grandma Tess.”
“In short shorts,” he teased. “We can do that, Tess. We’ll have that generation to grandparent whether they want us or not.”
Tessa clung to him, letting his vision settle into the empty space Olive had left behind.
“But I still wish…” Tessa whispered, voice cracking. “I still wish I could undo it. I still wish I could have had…more time. I still wish Olive could have stayed one more week. I still wish…” She huffed out a breath. “Well, I don’t wish for a better man in my life. There isn’t one.”
He smiled at the compliment, and held her while she cried a little more, but the sobs were quieter now, less frantic, like the storm had moved from hurricane to steady rain.
She pressed her forehead against his chest, breathing him in.
“I hate this,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said.
“I love her,” Tessa whispered.
“I know,” he said again.
“And I love you,” she admitted, the words quiet but clear.
Dusty’s arms tightened. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I am not going anywhere.”
