“But for the first time…” I paused, the words feeling dangerous. “I’m also thinking about what staying might look like. Even if I don’t know how that would work.”
The change in his expression was immediate. Unguarded hope flooded his features. His hands came up to frame my face. “You’re thinking about staying?”
“I’m thinking about it,” I clarified quickly. “I haven’t decided anything. I’m just… considering possibilities I never let myself consider before.”
“And that’s enough.” He leaned his forehead against mine, his breath warm on my lips.
I kissed him then, a desperate, searching kiss that was easier than explaining the tangled mess of my thoughts. When we finally pulled apart, his eyes were dark.
“Come to my place for dinner. Please. Let me cook for you.” His invitation was simple, but the message was clear.
Stay with me. Let this be real.
“But the brewpub…” I glanced toward the door. The low hum of conversation from the front of the house had picked up. “It’s the start of the dinner rush. Can you just leave?”
A slow, charming smile spread across his face. “The owner can be an ass sometimes, but I think he’ll let this one slide.” He squeezed my hand. “Let me talk to Maria real quick, then we can get out of here.”
The ease with which he prioritized me, prioritizedus, brought a smile to my face. “Lead on.”
We left through the back entrance, his hand warm in mine. The sun was setting as we drove to his cottage, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose. In his kitchen, he moved with confidence, pulling ingredients from the refrigerator. I perched on a bar stool with a glass of excellent wine he’d opened while he chopped vegetables and seasoned fish with the same focus he brought to brewing.
We fell into an easy conversation about the conservation center’s progress, but as we ate perfectly seared mahi-mahi, the conversation turned serious again as I told him about my mom’s call. “She called right before I came here. She was sweet. Proud. Talking about how much I deserve the fellowship. She even mentioned they want to come visit me here soon.”
Braden paused, the bottle hovering for a split second as he picked it up. His expression was unreadable, carefully neutral. He refilled both our glasses. “That’s good, isn’t it?”
I didn’t have the bandwidth to decode his reaction right now—I had enough to worry about—so I just pressed on. “It should be. But I hung up the phone and felt like I was splitting in half.” I looked up at him. “They’re not villains, Braden. They love me. They genuinely believe this fellowship is the key to my happiness. When she talks about it, she sounds so certain. And when I’m with you, or working on the Center, I feel certain. But they are two completely different certainties, and they can’t coexist.”
“And you’re afraid if you choose one, you lose the other.”
“I’m afraid if I choose one, I lose myself. Or at least, the version of myself I’ve spent thirty years trying to be.” I set down my fork. “I wouldn’t be where I am without them. But sometimes I wonder if I’m chasing their dream or mine.”
“Do they know you feel that way?”
“No. They see the awards and the titles and think I’m happy. And I thought I was.” I looked at him. “But I’m realizing that accomplished isn’t the same thing as happy. You seem happy, Braden. Genuinely happy.”
“I am,” he said, his gaze steady. “But it took a long time to get there. It took realizing that success isn't about how many people are impressed by you. It's about how you feel when you wake up in the morning.”
I smirked. “Easy for you to say. You built all this.”
“And you can build whatever you want, Tessa. That's the point. You're not trapped.”
“What if I stay and it’s the wrong choice?” I asked quietly. “What if I give up the Reef and regret it? Or what if I leave and regret that?”
“You’re asking the wrong question.” He reached across the table and took my hand. “The question isn’t what you might regret. It’s which choice feels true to who you are right now. Not who you were at seventeen, or who your parents want you to be. Who you are.”
“And if I don’t know who that is yet?”
“Then you keep asking until you do.” His thumb traced circles on the back of my hand. “You don’t have to have all the answers tonight, Tessa. You have time.”
Later,we lay in his bed, bare skin pressed together. My head rested on his shoulder as he gently stroked my hair in a lulling rhythm. He’d left the window open, and crickets chirped in their nightly chorus.
“Tessa?” His voice was soft, hesitant.
“Yeah?”
“When you said you’re thinking about what staying might look like…” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Did you mean staying in Dove Key? Or staying with me?”
The question was heavy with implication. He was giving me an out, a chance to clarify and protect us both from assumptions. I should have taken it. Should have explained that I was still figuring things out, that I was terrified of letting him believe in a promise I didn’t know if I could keep.
