Chapter 7 #2
"I saw a picture of the harbor at sunset," she said finally. "The water looked like copper, and I thought... I thought if I could just get there, maybe I could remember how to breathe."
The table went quiet. Not an uncomfortable silence, but a weighted one. The kind that said everyone there understood, in their own way, what it meant to need a place to land.
Brian's hand found hers under the table. Just a brush of fingers, there and gone. But she felt it like a promise.
"Well," Bree said, lifting her glass, "here's to finding places that help us breathe. And to the people we find there."
They clinked glasses, and Tessa felt something shift inside her. A door opening. A wall coming down.
After dinner, Bree led her through the house to a small studio at the back, where canvases lined the walls in various stages of completion. The work was stunning; bold and emotional, full of movement and light.
"This is what I do now," Bree said, gesturing around the room. "Instead of selling people things they don't need, I make things that make me happy. It pays less, but it costs less too, if you know what I mean."
Tessa knew exactly what she meant.
"This one's new." Bree pulled a canvas from the stack and turned it around. It showed the harbor at twilight, the water rendered in shades of copper and gold, boats bobbing gently at their moorings. In the foreground, two figures sat on the seawall, their silhouettes dark against the glowing water.
"It's beautiful," Tessa breathed.
"I saw them last week. Didn't know who they were, just liked the image." Bree tilted her head. "Now I'm wondering if it was you and Brian."
Tessa stared at the painting, at the two figures leaning slightly toward each other, connected without touching. Had that been them? She couldn't be sure. But something about the image made her heart squeeze.
"He's a good man," Bree said softly. "Gruff on the outside, but solid all the way through. He's been through some hard things. Things he doesn't talk about. But he's the kind of person who shows up when it matters."
"I'm starting to see that."
"Good." Bree set the painting back against the wall. "Because I think he's starting to see something in you, too."
The drive home was quiet, the kind of silence that felt comfortable rather than empty. Tessa watched the trees slide past the window, their shapes dark against the star-scattered sky.
"Thank you," she said as they turned onto White Gull Lane. "For bringing me tonight."
"You fit," Brian said simply. "They liked you."
"I liked them." She hesitated. "I liked seeing you with them. You're different around them. More relaxed."
"They're family." He said it as if it were obvious. Like family was the simplest thing in the world.
"Chosen family."
"The best kind."
They pulled up to the cottage, and Brian killed the engine.
The motion lights along the back fence glowed softly, activated by some small creature moving through the night.
Tessa watched them for a moment, thinking about footprints and phone calls and the thread of unease that still wound through her quieter moments.
"The calls were from the hospital," she said. "But that doesn't explain the man at the fair. Or the footprints."
Brian was quiet for a moment. "No. It doesn't." He turned to face her, his features half-lit by the glow from the porch light. "Has anything like this happened before? Someone watching you, following you?"
The question landed like a stone in still water. She'd been waiting for it, she realized. Waiting for the moment when she'd have to tell him the truth.
"Yes," she said. "Once. In Chicago."
She felt him go still beside her. Waiting.
"There was a man. His brother died in my ER. I did everything I could, but the injuries were too severe." She swallowed hard. "He blamed me. Started leaving notes on my car. Calling at all hours. Following me home from the hospital."
"Jesus." Brian's voice was low and rough. "What happened?"
"I got a restraining order. The police talked to him. It stopped." She turned to look at Brian, needing him to see her face when she said the next part. "But I never stopped looking over my shoulder. Never stopped waiting for it to start again."
"Is it the same guy? The one from the fair?"
"I don't know. I never got a clear look." She shook her head. "It might not be connected at all. It might be nothing. But I can't shake the feeling that someone's watching me."
Brian reached across the console and took her hand. His grip was warm and steady, an anchor in the dark.
"Thank you for telling me," he said. "I know that wasn't easy."
"I should have told you sooner. When I first saw the man at the fair."
"You told me when you were ready. That's what matters." He squeezed her hand. "We'll figure this out. Together."
Together. The word wrapped around her like a blanket, warm and safe.
They sat there for a long moment, hands intertwined, watching the motion lights flicker against the dark. Whatever was coming, they'd face it side by side.
And for the first time in longer than she could remember, Tessa didn't feel alone.