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“She won’t feel like she’s being stored away,” Elias said quietly, watching my reaction. “She’ll feel like she’s being seen.”
I couldn’t speak. I just reached for his hand and squeezed.
“I’ll stay the first few nights,” Emmaline said, placing a small overnight bag on the chair by the window. “Until she’s settled.”
Elias nodded. “There’s a guest room next door. Yours. You’ll be comfortable.”
She looked at him then—truly looked. “Have you thought any more about what we talked about? About relocating us?”
Elias leaned back slightly, but his tone was gentle. “I was about to ask you the same.”
Emmaline hesitated, glancing toward the hallway where a nurse was guiding our mother in for the night.
“I think we’d like to visit,” she said. “Spend a little more time here first. But ... Dallas hasn’t felt like home in a long time.”
“I’ll arrange the trip,” Elias said without missing a beat. “You, your husband, the baby. I’ll fly you here whenever you’re ready. You’ll have a house to stay in, a driver if you need one, and meetings set up with local congregations if your husband wants to explore church opportunities. No pressure. Just options.”
Her eyes shimmered. “You don’t even know us.”
“I know Vivi,” Elias said. “And that’s enough.”
I looked over at him, something molten and quiet settling deep inside my chest.
He didn’t love loud. He loved completely.
He didn’t promise the world. He just quietly rearranged it until it fit you better.
And as I stood in the doorway of my mother’s new room—watching her drift off to sleep under a roof we could finally afford—I knew I was witnessing the beginning of something rare.
Not just healing. Not just safety. But a future I never thought I’d get to have.
And Elias Dane had given it to me without ever asking for anything in return.
Which is why, this time, I was going to offer it myself.
All of me.
No walls. No masks. No exits.
Just the real, raw truth of who I was.
And everything I was ready to become.
30
ELIAS
The quiet of Dominion Hall wrapped around us, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past days. Maureen was settled in her new suite at the memory care facility, her room a haven of soft blues and greens, her first night marked by a rare, fleeting smile as Vivi sang to her. Emmaline had taken the guest room, her overnight bag unpacked, her resolve to stay until her mother adjusted a quiet strength that mirrored Vivi’s.
They were safe, for now, and as I led Vivi back to my suite, the weight of Jessa’s death, the viralShadyLadyphotos, and Department 77’s shadow felt distant, drowned out by the fire in her eyes.
We were alone, the marble halls silent, the harbor’s lights flickering through the windows like a promise. Vivi walked beside me, her cream sweater slipping off one shoulder, her black leggings hugging curves that drove me to distraction. Her curls were loose, framing a face still raw from grief but alight with something new—resolve, trust, a hunger that matched mine.
I stopped at the suite’s door, turning to her, my voice low, rough with need. “I want you, Vivi. Right now.”
Her green eyes locked on mine, blazing with a desire so fierce it stole my breath. “You think I don’t want you just as bad?” she said, her lips curving into a wicked grin that promised chaos.
She stepped closer, her body brushing mine, heat radiating through the thin fabric of her sweater.