Page 33 of Better than Yesterday
I shot her a crooked grin. “Is it that obvious?”
“You have the ‘I’m wrestling with a decision that could implode my entire life’ look.” She gestured toward the back of the shop. “It’s a look I’m very familiar with. All of you seem to save it just for me. Let’s sit down.”
It was a running joke in the family—when you had a real problem, a matter of the heart, you didn’t go to Ben with his stoicism or Eli with his jokes. You came to Brenna. You came to the bookshop.
I followed her to a cozy reading nook where a bassinet was tucked between two mismatched armchairs. Inside, my nephew Colton was stirring, his tiny brow furrowed in aminiature version of his father’s serious expression. The infant had Hunter’s thick, dark hair, but when his eyes fluttered open, they were a perfect green reflection of his mother’s.
“Hey, little man,” I murmured, reaching down to let him grip my finger. The simple, trusting weight of his hand in mine made me smile.
Brenna watched me, her expression gentle. “Talk to me, Braden. What’s going on?”
I sank into the chair opposite hers, and the baby closed his eyes again. The story tumbled out of me—the conservation center, Tessa’s passion, the pact we’d made to enjoy the time she had left, and the foolish hope the center had sparked in me.
“She wants to build this incredible thing,” I finished. “And I’m going to help her do it. I’m going to pour my time, my connections, and my heart into it, and then I’m going to watch her get on a plane.”
Brenna listened patiently, her gaze never leaving my face. When I was done, she didn’t offer easy platitudes.
“You see her building something just to walk away from it.” Her voice was a low murmur that wouldn’t disturb the baby, who was sleeping again. “But think about who she is now versus the girl who left. That girl had to prove she was ambitious, that she could make it on her own. She was taking her future.”
Brenna paused, crossing her legs and settling in her chair. “The woman who returned… maybe she’s trying to give something back to her past. This might not be about what she’s abandoning, Braden. Maybe her plans are about what she wants toleave behind. A mark that says, ‘I was here, and I cared.’ It’s about her wanting to leave a legacy, not just memories.”
Her insight sliced right to the core of it, rearranging the facts into a new picture. It was about understanding the woman Tessa had become. A woman who was trying to make peace with her own story.
That reframing didn’t erase the sting of her leaving, but it changed my perspective on her motives. My own agenda had been to guard my heart, but it was a losing battle. The question now was what to do about it. From that new clarity, an old memory surfaced, clear and bright.
“There’s a place,” I said, the thought surfacing as if summoned by Brenna’s words. “A place we found together, back when we were kids. It was ours. No one else’s.”
Brenna’s eyes lit with understanding. “The grotto?”
I nodded. Taking her there would be a deliberate act. It wasn’t about the center, or timelines, or temporary agreements. It would be a reminder of the foundation we’d built, stone by stone, a lifetime ago. A reminder of a boy and a girl who had their whole lives ahead of them.
“The name might be a bit over the top for what it actually is, but it’s still there.” I didn’t want to admit out loud that I still went there from time to time. And remembered.
“You should take her there,” Brenna’s tone was firm, leaving no room for doubt. And she didn’t follow up on my last sentence, thank God. “You need to stop talking about the future and the past and just live a perfect present. Show Tessa what it feels like to just…be. Here. With you. And maybe in doing that you can show her a different future.”
I pulled out my phone, my decision solidifying. “I’m texting her now. She doesn’t have anything planned for morning, so the timing is great.”
Brenna leaned over and squeezed my hand, her smile full of warmth and deep understanding of the risk I was about to take.
“You’re not just showing her a place, Braden,” she whispered. “You’re showing her a home. Be brave.”
My fingers hovered over the screen. Brenna was right. This wasn’t casual. It was everything.
I typed the message before I could second-guess myself.
Braden: Tomorrow morning. 7 a.m. Meet me at Odyssey. Wear your dive gear. No data sheets, no samples. Just you, me, and the ocean. Trust me?
Her response came lessthan a minute later.
Tessa: I trust you. See you at 7.
I staredat those three words—I trust you—and a dangerous bloom of hope rose in my chest.
The next morningdawned clear and perfect. I arrived at the pier at six-thirty to prepOdysseyand settle my nerves. By the time Tessa appeared at 7:00, I’d checked the dive equipment three times. She walked down the pier in board shorts and a form-fitting rash guard, her hair in a side braid. The morning sun caught the auburn highlights in her hair, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
“Morning,” she called with a warm smile. “Are yougoing to tell me where we’re going, or is this a mystery tour?”
I gave her a hand onto the boat. “Mystery tour. But I promise you’ll like it.”
