With her breath fluttering high in her throat, she settled on the edge of the bed. One side of his face obscured in shadow and the other luminous by candlelight, he kissed her as gently as a sigh. Drawing him to sit beside her, she embraced him, there in the room where he’d passed so many solitary nights. His skin smelled of citrusy mint and soap. She nuzzled his neck and eased her fingers into his scalp, as she now knew he loved. With a muffled groan, he surrendered to her touch. All she wanted was to lay down by his side.

He shifted away. “Tessa, I…”

His voice was thick with longing and with something else, too. She met his gaze. His eyes shone a silent request tinged at the edges with bittersweet regret. He offered the trace of a shrug. Understanding coalesced in her belly. “Oh, my sweet love.” She interlaced her fingers with his and lifted her cheeks, flushed with the thought of what his gaze implied. “I’ll wait for you a thousand years.” Gratitude softened his brow.

Closing his eyes, he reached for her again. “I love you.”

She snuggled into his chest, knowing in her heart she spoke truth. That evening he’d dared to voice thoughts that for years had been unspeakable. He allowed himself to imagine a life hitherto unimaginable. In that humble farmhouse kitchen, he handed her his dreams and trusted her with their safekeeping. Her gift to him was the possibility they could become reality. In her heart of hearts, she pledged him all the time he needed to create that reality together.

Soon his muscles slackened, and he jerked in her arms. Half asleep, he didn’t fuss as she released him onto the mattress and slid into the chair where he kept his vigil. His breath eased into a rhythm regular as clockwork. The wrinkles on his forehead vanished, and she smoothed the creases next to his eyes with gossamer kisses. By moonlight, she studied him. His face relaxed into the image of the careless boy he once was—some portion of the burden he carried no longer etched in the lines of age.

With that shared weight lodged close to her heart, she slipped from the room, praying she was strong enough to carry it.

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Some hours later—maybe two, maybe three—barefoot and barelegged, Tessa stood on tiptoes and peered through candlelight. Not a single bag of chips in Nora’s kitchen cabinets. She pushed aside a jar of molasses. Surely, she could rustle up a midnight snack.