She smirks. “Let me guess … you just happen to know a guy?”
I nod, smiling. “He’s local. Fair with a drill. Might work for sandwiches.”
She laughs and it eases something in my chest. This. I can do this. I can work beside her, teach her,be near her, without screwing everything up.
Because the truth is, I don’t just want her for tonight. And if I kiss her now … if I give in to everything I’ve been feeling, I won’t stop. Tessa deserves more than a heat-of-the-moment event. She deserves toknowthis isn’t temporary.
My gaze drifts from her toward the lake. Night has arrived. It feels heavy with summer humidity and my desire that I seem unable to quench on my own. Then I hear it … something that has grounded me each summer of my life. “Listen, Tessa.”
She looks at me, emerald eyes wide open and curious. “It’s the whippoorwill.”
“Exactly! Listen again, there’s two.”
She stills and waits for the musical bird call. “Is it a mating song?”
“Quick study, you are. The male calls to attract a female. They're most active at dusk and dawn."
She listens intently as another call echoes across the water, followed by an answering trill from deeper in the woods.
"They nest on the ground," I continue, watching her face in the moonlight. "Usually in leaf litter or fallen logs. The female lays two eggs, perfectly camouflaged. White with brown and gray markings that blend into the forest floor."
"How do you know so much about them?" she asks softly.
"Logan and I used to listen for them every night when we were kids. He'd make up stories about what they were saying to each other." I pause, surprised by how easily his name comes out. "One summer, wefound a nest. Watched the babies hatch and fledge. Logan was convinced they remembered us the next year."
She steps closer, her shoulder brushing mine as another call echoes across the water.
"They migrate to Central and South America for winter," I continue, my voice quieter now. "Thousands of miles. But they always come back to the same territory. Same trees, same stretch of shoreline."
"Like coming home," she murmurs.
"Yeah. Like coming home."
We stand in comfortable silence, listening to the back-and-forth calls. The sound wraps around us, familiar and wild at the same time. I feel her relax beside me, the tension from moments before melting away.
"They mate for life," I add quietly. "Once they find each other, that's it. No second chances, no looking for someone better. Just...commitment."
She turns to look at me then, something shifting in her expression. "That's beautiful … and terrifying.”
The words hang between us like the humid night air. I feel the weight of what I just said about commitment, about mating for life. Another whippoorwill calls and she tilts her head to listen. The moonlight catches the curve of her neck, and I have to shove my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching out.
"Terrifying how?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to hear the answer.
She's quiet for a moment, still listening to the birds. "The permanence of it, I guess. What if you choose wrong? What if the person you think is perfect turns out to be ... not?"
I study her profile in the moonlight. "Maybe that's not how it works. Maybe when you know, you just ... know."
Tessa glances at me, something vulnerable in her eyes. She steps down off the porch, her eyes catching mine like she’stesting something. Measuring my answer before I give it.
“When is my next construction lesson?” she asks casually, but there’s hope in her tone. She wants help, but she also wants to pursue what we’re feeling together … or at least what Ithinkwe’re both experiencing.
I hesitate just long enough for her to notice.
“Is tomorrow too soon?” I ask.
“Tomorrow is perfect. I have everything for sandwiches and watermelon to top it off.”
“Gourmet,” I murmur. “Guess I’ll grab another two-by-four and earn it.”
