Page 212 of When Love Takes Root

I touched her cheek, brushing away a tear. “Then let somebody do something for you.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into my hand. “I’m trying.”

“I see you.”

“I love this.” Her voice steadied. “I love how you think. I love how you listen.”

Something in me settled.

And something else tightened.

Because this was the part where things got real. Where feelings stopped being implied and started being spoken. Where love stopped being safe and started being accountable.

“I love you.”

The room went quiet.

Celeste stared at me, searching, maybe bracing.

I didn’t look away.

A small voice in the back of my mind whispered that saying it out loud changed things; once it was spoken, there was no pretending it didn’t matter. No stepping back into comfort if things got complicated. “I love you, Celeste.” Her eyes filled again. “I’m not saying it to rush you.” I took a breath, steadying myself. “I just needed you to know before fear talked me out of telling the truth.”

She looked at me like she saw all of it.

Then she stepped in and wrapped her arms around my waist.

“I love you too.” Soft. Sure. I held her close. She pulled back, tears still on her cheeks. “I didn’t think I could say that again without guilt.”

“And now?” I brushed her cheek.

“I’m still scared,” she whispered. “But not guilty.”

“That matters.”

It did.

Fear could be worked through.

Guilt buried things.

“I love you, Josiah.”

I closed my eyes, letting it settle.

Quietly, I asked God to help me hold it right.

To not mess this up.

“Thank You, Big G,” I muttered.

She laughed, nudging me. “Right here?”

“Especially here.”

“Because stories matter?” She glanced around.

“Because this one does.”