But looking into his blue eyes and seeing the hope and fear warring there, I couldn’t shatter the moment.
“Both,” I whispered. “I’m thinking about both.”
The smile that broke across his face was radiant. He cupped my cheek and kissed me tenderly—soft, reverent, and full of unspoken promises. His hope was tangible, and I couldn’t bring myself to diminish it with reminders of reality.
As his breathing deepened and steadied, the voice of doubt returned. I hadn’t decided to stay. I was only questioning whether I should leave. Those weren’t the same thing. And sweet, hopeful Braden was hearing certainty where I’d only offered confusion.
The misalignment worried me. Because I could see exactly how this would end—with one of us heartbroken and the other drowning in guilt and fear for the choice not made.
Chapter Thirteen
BRADEN
The followingweek flowed with dangerous ease. Tessa started showing up at the resort daily, not just for her scheduled dives but for everything else that made up the fabric of life at Sunset Siesta. Coffees together before heading to the pier. Quick lunches at Driftwood Grill between data collection sessions. Late afternoons spent on the pub’s deck, sketching plans for the conservation center awareness event while I worked through inventory spreadsheets beside her. She kicked off her sandals, tucked her feet under her, laptop balanced on her knees, and the whole scene looked so right it made my chest ache.
It was domestic in a way that scared me even as I leaned into it.
“What about a beach festival?” She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, eyes bright with the kind of enthusiasm I’d learned meant she was on to something good. Sticky notes and color-coded tabs covered her laptop, her organizational system as methodical as anyscientific experiment. “Something that brings the community together. We could do presentations but make them casual. Interactive.”
“Food?” I asked, jotting a note in the margin of my notebook.
“Absolutely.” She shot me a grin that hit me square in the chest. “Can’t have a proper Keys event without good food.”
“Tidal Hops could sponsor. I’m planning a special release and could time it to coincide.” The idea had been percolating for a while but saying it out loud made it real.
Her eyes lit up. “A conservation-themed beer?”
I nodded, pride shooting through my chest. “Reef Saver IPA. Ten percent of proceeds go to the center.”
“Braden, that’s brilliant.” She made a note on her laptop. “The fundraiser will be huge for awareness and initial operating costs, but it’s a drop in the bucket for real startup funds—construction, equipment, staffing. The linchpin is the Florida Coastal Conservation Grant.”
I glanced at the tables around me, making sure no one needed anything. “You mentioned it before.”
She stretched, arching her back with a tired groan. “I spent hours submitting the application before the deadline. It’s very competitive, but I think we’ve got a real shot.”
“When will you hear back?”
“Soon, I hope. This foundation moves quickly. Until then, we fundraise like hell and cross our fingers.” She set her laptop aside and twisted to face me fully, a complex expression flickering across her face. “You’re really all in on this, aren’t you?”
“I told you I was.”
What I didn’t say was that every hour I spent planning this event, every dollar I earmarked for sponsorship, every conversation about timelines and logistics was like evidenceI was collecting. Evidence that she was building something permanent here. Evidence that when she talked about “the center” and “long-term sustainability,” she wasn’t just planning a project. She was planning a future. My brain kept changing that dangerous word.Ourfuture.
I kept that part to myself.
Over the next week, my life and hers started intersecting like two currents merging into a single flow. She’d stop by Tidal Hops to pick up my input on the event budget, and Maria would greet her like an old friend, pouring her a sample of the new citrus blonde. Tessa would linger at the bar, asking Maria about her daughter’s soccer team, laughing at a story about a disastrous bake sale. Their easy camaraderie made me want things I couldn’t let myself name.
She fit here. Into my world, into this town, into the fabric of the resort that had always been home. The dangerous part was how it was starting to feel like she’d never left at all.
One morning, I found her at the pier with Harper. My sister had a clipboard and was pointing at something on Tessa’s laptop while Finn danced around their legs, clutching a toy boat.
“Miss Tessa, look!” He held up the boat with the fierce pride of a five-year-old artist. “Uncle Chase helped me paint it.”
“It’s beautiful, Finn.” Tessa crouched down to his level, examining the boat with the same serious attention she gave her research data. The gesture was so genuine and so perfectly her that my throat tightened. “What kind of boat is it?”
“A research boat. Like yours.”
“The very best kind.”
