Tessa strides over slowly, plopping down next to me. "Yeah, I almost lost a virtual fight with a sheet, but…"
I cock a brow as I replay her sentence.
"I was FaceTiming my youngest sister," she explains. "She had a whole linen situation going on. We figured it out."
"Do I even want toknow?"
She shakes her head playfully. "Not unless you have a death wish—folding a fitted sheet is no joke."
"Wait… " I pull one knee up, turning to face her completely. "You're supposed to fold those?"
Tessa giggles.
"No, I'm serious." I reach out and drop my hand on her leg. Her eyes dip to it before returning to mine. "I just taught Ruthie how to ball them up last month. I have a closet upstairs full of tightly wadded Egyptian cotton."
She looks at me skeptically. "Now I'm wondering why you have so many sheets."
I tilt my head, one brow arched. "Better than not enough."
Tessa smiles, and once again, this… whatever between us… feels as natural as swinging a bat or loving my kid.
I huff out a laugh as silence threatens to fall between us. "You're always doing that, aren't you?"
She looks at me, the cutest crease in her forehead, and I resist the urge to smooth it over. "Doing what?"
Sitting forward, I take her hand from her lap and intertwine it with mine. "Helping people—solving their problems, checking in, taking care of them."
She shrugs, her eyes on the way our fingers thread together. "I guess so."
I give her space to think about it—to be honest with herself—brushing the pad of my thumb over her knuckle. Eventually, she lifts her head slowly, her eyes flickering as realization hits her. "Yeah." She shrugs, chuckling softly. "I think maybe I am."
I smile—until I feel my eyes narrowing, my jaw tightening without me doing it intentionally. "And who takes care of you, Tessa?"
Her expression switches, the playfulness in her eyes shifting to something more honest. Her pupils darken. "I do," she murmurs.
I purse my lips, the answer I expected landing harder than it should. "See…" I ease my hand from hers, leaning in until I'm braced beside her hip. My voice drops. "That's a problem for me."
With one arm on either side of her, I cage her in without touching her. Tessa sinks back into the couch as she tries to make space where it doesn't exist.
"Really?" she whispers, her chest rising and falling faster now.
"Mhmm." I let my weight shift, slowly and deliberately lowering myself down until I'm on my knees for this girl—for the second time today.
She holds my gaze. "Why?"
I tilt my head. "Because you deserve that—to be heard and seen and taken care of."
"My family appreciates me," she says as if the words that escaped were meant for herself as much as me.
I nod and kiss the inside of her knee. "I'm not talking about them."
Her lips part, but she doesn't speak. I kiss the other side, higher than before. "You deserve more than appreciation, Tess. You deserve to be cherished. Worshipped. And anyone who had the chance before and didn't…" I shake my head, both at the idea and to erase the image it creates. "Well, thank God."
Her brow furrows slightly.
"Because now I get the privilege." I lift my eyes to meet hers—strong, steady. "And I promise you, I won't take it for granted."
With that, she springs toward me, grabbing a hold of my hoodie and dragging me toward her. I stand, my chest still in her hands, my shadow swallowing her as I pin her between me and the back of the couch.
