Page 15 of The Summer We Kept Secrets (The Destin Diaries #4)

“I’ll be downstairs,” he said, giving a nod as he walked out.

She watched him go, utterly caught off guard by…something.

Vivien leaned in and inhaled softly, sliding Tessa a look that said she knew exactly what that something was. Attraction.

“Shut up,” Tessa whispered as Kate and Eli started talking to each other.

“I’m just sayin’…”

Tessa smiled, but then it faded.

“He has ghosts,” she whispered, meaning his late wife. But maybe those ghosts went back further than that. She didn’t know, but she wanted to.

An hour later, conversation was hushed on the deck, though some laughter had resumed when Meredith returned from the beach with baby Atlas snuggled into sleep again. Everyone had started to relax, but Tessa’s mind kept wandering down to the first floor.

Dusty had been with Jonah for an hour.

Finally, she shared a look with Eli, who tipped his head and gave a questioning glance.

“I’ll go check,” she said, pushing up. “I invited him and he’s my responsibility.”

Eli smiled and nodded, obviously grateful.

She padded down the stairs to the lower level and paused without popping around the wall that hid her. She could hear them talking in Jonah’s bedroom, so the door must be open.

Just as she was about to clear her throat and make her presence known, she heard Jonah laugh quietly, the sound melting her heart.

“I get that,” he said. “But…” The smile left his voice. “It’s that sledgehammer feeling again. Some mornings I wake up and I don’t remember she’s gone. Just for a split second. And then—boom. It knocks the snot out of me, and I feel like I can’t breathe for the rest of the day.”

“That’s the thing about grief,” Dusty replied. “It doesn’t walk through the front door—it crashes through the ceiling. And it doesn’t ask for permission.”

Tessa hesitated, one hand on the banister. She should go back upstairs. This wasn’t her moment to eavesdrop. But something about Dusty’s voice—so gentle, so knowing, so strong and steady—rooted her to the step.

“It’s not like I expected this,” Jonah continued, quieter.

“I mean, no one does. But Carly was strong. Like… mountain-climber strong. She knew if she kicked me out—and that wasn’t easy—that I’d finally get my act together, and I did.

Yes, everyone in this house helped me, including my dad and Kate, but it was Carly who forced me.

And when I came back, she believed in me. She was my whole world.”

“And now you have Atlas,” Dusty reminded him. “To Atlas, you are his whole world.”

“I know, man. And I can’t…I have to…” He swore under his breath.

“You can and you will, son,” Dusty said softly.

“I just want to be happy to have a kid, you know? But I can’t. I feel like it’s wrong. Like somehow I’m betraying her if I laugh or have fun or take a picture of Atlas. I feel like it’s wrong that I’m alive and she’s not. I don’t want to feel any joy, but I do. And I know it’s wrong.”

“It’s not wrong, not at all,” Dusty assured him. “Time will allow you to let go of that feeling, I promise you. Right now, you have classic survivor’s guilt. I have a brief program to help you through that, if you want it. A couple books, a lecture I give that I’ll share with you.”

“I don’t…yeah, I guess.”

“I’m here for you,” Dusty said. “No charge, any time, day or night.”

Tessa felt something crack in her chest.

“And in the meantime,” he continued, “remember that grief and joy can live in the same heart. You don’t have to wait for the grief to be gone to start letting some joy back in. You have a newborn son and he’s amazing. You should let yourself feel the thrill—and absolute sleeplessness—of that.”

As Jonah chuckled, she turned to slip back up the steps—she’d heard too much, this was private—but her footstep betrayed her.

Inside, the voices stopped.

Then Jonah’s familiar snort floated through the door. “Whoever’s out there better be a spy with strawberry shortcake or else.”

Tessa laughed and came down the rest of the stairs, walking to Jonah’s open door.

“I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping,” she said, stepping inside.

The room was dimly lit by one standing lamp, casting a soft golden glow over the messy unmade bed where Jonah sat. A box of tissues, five of them used and balled up, balanced on Jonah’s pillow.

Dusty was in the chair, leaning back, looking remarkably comfortable.

Even with the evidence of tears, Jonah looked like a different man. His shoulders weren’t quite so high, his eyes not so shadowed. Whatever “therapy” had gone on down here, it had worked.

Dusty glanced at her, amused. “What? No shortcake?”

“We saved some,” she said. “I did not mean to interrupt.”

“We were just wrapping up,” Jonah said, pushing off the bed and stretching. “I should go check on Atlas anyway.”

“He’s conked out and being traded from loving arm to loving arm.”

Jonah smiled and looked at Dusty. “See?”

The other man shrugged. “All part of the process.”

She had no idea what they had talked about, but clearly the connection was strong.

Jonah reached out and clasped Dusty’s hand. “Thank you, man. For real. That… helped more than I thought it would.”

Dusty rose, too, pulling Jonah in for a quick guy-hug. “Anytime.”

Jonah turned to Tessa. “He’s better than a bourbon.” Then he grinned. “Okay, maybe not better. But close.”

With that, he ducked out and climbed the stairs, leaving them alone in the quiet room.

Tessa perched on the bed, arms crossed, eyes on Dusty. “So who stole the bad boy of the beach and replaced him with…a kind, sensitive, remarkably good therapist?”

He chuckled but then his smile faded. “Life did the dirty work, Tessa. But it’s nice of you to notice the improvements.”

“They’re kind of hard to miss, unless you break into a chorus of AC/DC—then I’ll know it’s you.”

He regarded her for a moment, looking just a tiny bit exhausted, which was understandable after an hour of grief counseling.

“So, have I done my due diligence yet?”

She lifted a questioning brow. “Free therapy?”

“Nah, that’s actually fun for me. I mean…I did the reunion, re-met the family, picked up where we all left off.” He reached for her hand and guided her to her feet.

She frowned, still not following. “Was that an effort for you?”

“Oh, no. It was awesome. I love being here, same vibe from thirty years ago, just more gray hair. What I meant was I know that was the proper thing to do before…”

“Before what?” she asked, vaguely aware of his strong hand holding hers.

“Can I ask you out on a proper date now?”

Oh. She literally felt a little tilt in her world. “A…date?”

He laughed softly. “It’s a thing single, unmarried, and mutually attracted people do.

Usually includes dinner, maybe some awkward eye contact, a few confessions, and, if we’re lucky, a kiss goodnight.

And to be honest, you’d be my first in a long time, so it might also involve some patience on your part. ”

And the world tilted some more, making her wonder if she might fall off.

“I always thought you…well, that I wasn’t your type.”

“You’re everyone’s type, Tessa,” he said on a chuckle. “But mostly, Eli put a wall of protective ownership around you, and he was one of the few decent guys here who could stand me. Most of my friends were losers, as you might recall.”

She did, but didn’t say anything, letting him continue.

“So I kept it friendly out of deference to a kid I really respected. I still do,” he added quickly. “But he seems to be into Kate, so I take it the coast is clear and I can ask you out. Yes?”

She hated that the little speech left her breathless. She was almost fifty years old, for heaven’s sake. She shouldn’t be breathless. But there was something so real and so different and so wonderful about this man.

Drunk, bad, wild Dustin Mathers…who was none of those things anymore.

When she didn’t answer, he stepped closer, close enough that she could smell the faint salt from the sea in his shirt, feel the steadiness in his posture.

“So is that a yes?”

Tessa tipped up her head. “Yes,” she said on a whisper.

He exhaled in mock relief. “Thank God. I was terrified of rejection.”

“Oh, Dusty,” she joked as they walked out of the room. “I don’t think you’re terrified of anything.”

“Then you’d be wrong,” he said, walking with her to the bottom of the stairs. She placed her hand on the rail, paused, then turned back to him.

“And by the way? That thing you said to Jonah? About not needing the grief to go away to feel joy? I’m going to write that one down. I’ve struggled with that since my dad died.”

He smiled. “You don’t have to write it down. You’re already living it.”

She gave him a grateful look, then climbed the stairs with a heart that felt lighter than it had in months.