Chapter 10 #3
But it was the right thing to do. The only thing to do.
My academic brain, trained for a decade to see every problem through the lens of funding cycles, kicked in immediately.
A concept was worthless without capital.
And a project this ambitious needed serious funding.
The Florida Coastal Conservation Grant Program was the big one—fiercely competitive, but a potential game-changer.
If I could secure that, the center wouldn’t just be a dream. It would be a viable, funded reality.
By the time the sun began its descent, I had a rough plan and a burning need to share it with someone who would understand.
I found Braden on the Sunset Siesta pier. He was sitting on the edge of the dock, his legs dangling over the water. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of coral and gold, turning the ocean to liquid fire.
“Hey,” I said softly. “Taking a break from the office?”
“Dinner break watching the sunset.” He gestured to the space beside him. “Join me?”
I sat down. The wood was still warm from the day’s heat, and the salt air was thick. For a moment, we sat in silence as the sun sank toward the horizon. It was peaceful in a way that made my chest ache.
“I had an idea,” I said finally. “About my research. About what comes next.”
He turned, his expression open and curious. “Tell me.”
So I did. I explained that the data pointed toward a potential breakthrough. About my frustration with academic research that existed in journals but rarely translated to real-world impact. And then I told him about the conservation center.
As I spoke, the caution on his face melted away, replaced by something I hadn’t expected. Unfiltered pride. “Tessa, what a great idea. That’s exactly what this community needs.”
“You think it’s feasible?”
“Feasible? It’s brilliant.” He shifted to face me more fully, his eyes bright. “I’m sure you could find some place on the island to convert or build. And I know the town council has been looking for ways to boost sustainable tourism. This would be perfect.”
His excitement was contagious, and I found myself smiling despite the knot in my stomach. “I’d need funding. Probably grants from Scripps and major foundations to start, plus local partnerships.”
“I’ll help. However you need me—writing letters of support, connecting you with local businesses, whatever.”
“Braden.”
“What?”
I looked down at my hands, the words I needed to say lodged somewhere between my heart and my mouth. “This is something I want to design before I leave. A legacy to leave behind when I go back to California.”
The air between us grew heavy.
“Before you leave,” he repeated slowly. “To chase the next dream.”
His words were a quiet act of courage, and the honesty in his voice demanded the same from me. “I need to be honest about that, Braden. The next dream… it might already have a name. I was invited to apply for the Great Barrier Reef fellowship. I submitted the application this morning.”
He didn't flinch, but his eyes shuttered, a quiet confirmation of his deepest fear. He was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was carefully neutral. “The Great Barrier Reef. Of course you applied. It's everything you've ever worked for. A huge opportunity.”
“It's just an application,” I said, maybe too quickly. “A long shot. I probably won't even hear back until my project here is almost over.”
“They’d be idiots not to appoint you. What are the steps for the conservation center?”
I forced myself to meet his gaze. “I can lay the groundwork, secure initial funding, and establish partnerships. But the center will need a permanent director, someone embedded in the community. I can’t be that person.”
In other words, a decision was coming, and an ending was inevitable.
He absorbed that, then seemed to make a choice, his expression settling into a kind of pained resolve. “Then we’ll make sure the foundation you build here is strong enough to stand on its own, no matter what happens next.”
The we in that sentence made my throat tighten. “You’re really okay with helping me build something I won’t stay to see through?”
He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun was now just a sliver of gold against the darkening water. “Yeah. I like the idea of supporting something that helps Dove Key and that you’re passionate about. Something lasting.”
I reached out and took his hand, lacing our fingers together. His palm was warm and calloused. “Thank you.”
He squeezed my hand once, then released it, standing and offering me a hand up. “Come on. I’ll pour you a beer, and we can start making a plan. If we’re going to design a marine conservation center in ten weeks, we’ll need a hell of a strategy.”
I let him pull me to my feet, and we walked back down the pier together. Stars began to emerge, bright pinpricks against the gathering dark.
This morning, I’d applied for a future halfway across the world, then sketched out a legacy I’d have to leave behind. And tonight, I was planning something beautiful with a man I’d never truly left behind in my heart, only to walk away from it all.
The contradictions were staggering.
I wasn’t just passing through Dove Key anymore. I wasn’t just completing a research assignment and moving on. I was building something real and permanent.
Even if I wouldn’t be here to see it grow.