tender heart.

Her words echo in him like footsteps down a long hallway, each one touching something tender, something buried. And when she says you are more than enough, something inside him fractures and settles at the same time. Like maybe he doesn’t need to keep bracing for the fall, because she’s right here. Because she’s still Allie.

His fingers relax slightly, but they don’t let go. Not yet. He watches her as she gathers herself—efficient, practical, gracious even in retreat—and he knows what she’s doing. He’s done it, too. That subtle step backward when the truth gets too loud. When the heart starts to believe it can still have something it was sure it had lost for good.

He almost lets her do it.

Almost.

But then he shifts on the bench, turns just enough to face her fully, and his voice, when it comes, is low and steady, the kind of calm that comes only after a storm.

“You’re right,” he says, eyes locked on hers. “We should get home.”

A pause. “But I don’t know if I can walk away from this without tellin’ you what I really want to say.” He takes a breath, deeper than the others, like he’s drawing strength from the space between them—what little’s left of it, at least.

“I never stopped loving you, Allie. Not when I left, not when I tried to build something new, not even when I convinced myself you were better off without me." Should he be saying any of this out loud? No. But was that going to stop him? Of course not. Because if he didn't say it now, he might never. "I thought if I stayed gone long enough, if I stayed quiet, maybe that love would… fade. Turn into somethin’ easier to carry. But it didn’t. And sittin’ here with you, like this—it’s only made that truth louder.”

His voice wavers, but he keeps going. “I know it doesn’t fix anything. I know the past is heavy and complicated and messy as hell. I know I’ve got a lot to answer for, and I ain’t askin’ for anything you’re not ready to give. But I couldn’t leave tonight without saying it out loud. Not this time.” He finally releases her hand, but only so he can tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheek again in a way that feels like muscle memory. He lets his hand drop afterward, resting it in his lap.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he adds, quietly. “But if there’s even the smallest part of you that still wonders what it might look like to try again one day—not rewind or pretend like nothin’ happened, but to really try to.... I don't know? Build somethin', even if it's just as friends....—I’ll be here if you need me.”

The smile he gives her is soft, worn at the edges by time and heartache, but unmistakably real. “And if all this was just one night—a moment in time—we needed… then I’m still glad for it. More than I can say.”

He stands slowly, shoulders rolling back, steadier than when he first sat down with her. He doesn’t move to leave just yet. He waits—because that’s what this part is, he thinks. Waiting. Hoping. Not pushing. Letting her decide if they’re still standing on the same page, or if this is just where they say goodbye a little softer, a little more final than they ever have before.

When Travis had ended their relationship all those years ago, it'd felt like when he left, he'd taken her heart with him. Little pieces of it had returned to her in the form of the friends she'd made, Margot and their marriage, and Ryan. But to hear him admit he'd never stopped loving her, that he wanted to be in her life if she'd let him… it felt like she'd finally been able to take a breath after being underwater for too long. That first, glorious breath of fresh air, before another wave came crashing down over her once again. He had a family- a woman waiting for him at home with their daughter. And there was where the guilt lied. Would her happiness require the ruin of a family? Could she live with that? Was that even on the table?

There were so many questions but Allie knew now wasn't the time to ask any of them. They had plenty of time to figure things out, to move forward in a way that began to heal the pain of their past while building something new- and what that looked like she wasn't sure, but what she did know? "I never stopped loving you, either." The words were a whisper shared between just the two of them, an admission that hadn't been spoken out loud outside of her therapist's office- but that was years ago.

Unable to help herself, Allie leaned into his touch as he pushed the hair behind her ear, her breath getting caught in her throat for a moment as her eyes drifted halfway closed. She allowed herself that brief moment of respite before forcing her eyes back open and her consciousness back to reality, where she watched him stand and wait patiently for her respond.

There was a brief stretch of time where she said nothing and remained seated on the bench, her eyes searching his face as if she'd find her words written there. But finally she stood, her own legs shaking with the weight of everything admitted between them that night, and she spoke. "I don't want this to just be a moment in time." She admitted carefully, afraid to allow herself to feel too much hope when there were still too many unknowns and too many variables. "And I want to talk about all of this, about… us." She swallowed thickly, "But not tonight."

Sucking in a slow breath through her nose, Allie took a step forward and placed a hand on his arm, her grip gentle as her head tilted back to look up at him. "Where are your girls tonight?" She asked, quickly continuing once she realized the way the question could be perceived. "I don't think it's best for you to go home to an empty house…" Trailing off, she chewed lightly on her lower lip before offering. "Ryan's at my parents tonight, why don't you crash on the couch? It's really comfortable and that way I know someone's around in case you need anything. What do you say? Besides, you shouldn't be drivin' right now." Her tone was teasing as she nudged him gently, the tentative smile on her features growing as he agreed to come with her and her grip on his arm dropped only to link an arm through his and begin the walk back to her car.

Maybe this was a mistake, but in the moment everything felt… right.

After picking up the boys from school and dropping them off with his mama—who’d all but shoved him out the door, happy to have the grandkid time (and Ryan was a certifiable grandkid by now)—Shane turned his truck toward Allie’s. His head was a mess, thoughts circling with no end in sight, and he knew there was only one person who’d give it to him straight. Someone who knew both sides and wouldn’t pull any punches.

By the time he made it to her place, he didn’t bother pretending he was fine. He sank into the couch with a heavy sigh, slouching low until, leaning his weight against his elbow as he reached over and stole one of Allie's fries that he had literally just bribed her with to get her to let him in. “How the hell do I go two damn whole years without screwin’ things up with Lana… and then manage to make her absolutely hate me in just one night?”

Instinctively, Allie's hand went to Shane's back, easily slipping beneath his shirt as she began to run her palm in soothing strokes along his skin- something she'd done for him since they were children, something she'd also done for her son whenever he needed it. "She doesn't hate you, Shane." Her voice was soft, comforting, but held an undercurrent of strength and conviction, leaving no space to question the truth of her words. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

When he repeated her offer with the note of shock in his voice, Allie wasn't sure if she'd crossed a line she in the invitation. It'd been friendly enough, truly hoping she'd have a companion to help her finish the food she was certain would go uneaten should she go at the stack alone. Quickly, she began to explain herself. "I planned for my son to be with me, but you know ten year old boys... if they have a choice between spending time with their mom and their friends, well..." She shrugged with a soft chuckle. "I get the short end of that stick. It'd be nice to have some company." She offered, her own smile warm, shoulders sagging in a bit of relief as he agreed. "And I appreciate the trust but if I ate all of this I'd have a stomach ache for the rest of the day, plus heartburn, I'm sure- and I left my Tums at home." She joked.

Moving easily through the crowd at his side as they made their way to the table, her plates of food still precariously balanced in her arms, Allie couldn't help but to chuckle. "I came back a couple months ago, yeah. But I actually grew up here. Left to go to college and life didn't seem to bring me back- at least permanently- until now." Setting all of the food down once they reached their destination, Allie climbed onto one of the bench seats and began to separate and uncover the plates and to-go containers, handing him a package containing a fork, knife, spoon, and napkin, before unwrapping her own. "I was here the year a brawl broke out at the basket decorating- do you remember that?"

He doesn’t know how to ask for this. Hell, he doesn’t even know if he deserves it from her. But she offers it to him, anyway. Like she always has.

And when she finally pulls back, his hand lingers at her waist, fingers brushing the fabric there in a way that says thank you without needing to speak the words aloud. He watches her then—every word, every tremble in her lips—as she gives away pieces of her heart just to hold him steady. And when her voice cracks, it slices straight through him—sharp with guilt, and warm with gratitude.

The old nickname—Marshall—lands like a whispered prayer in a place that’s felt hollow for years. He exhales hard, staggered by how one word can knock the wind out of him so effortlessly.

“Jesus, Allie...” His voice is thick, rough with years of silence and what-ifs. He rubs a hand over his face, then looks down at the chocolate she offers. A dry, broken laugh slips out of him. “You always did know how to hit a man where it hurts. Right in the soft spots.”

He doesn’t eat the candy right away. Just holds it in his palm, staring down at the foil like maybe it holds an answer. To the past. To the future. To how the hell he ended up here—on a park bench, next to the only person who’s ever seen him for exactly as he is and loved him anyway.

When his eyes lift back to hers, the smile on his lips is small, but it’s real. “You wanna know who I thought I was supposed to be?” he asks, quieter now, like the bench and the breeze are the only witnesses to his confession. “I thought I had to be the guy who fixed everything. Who never needed or asked for help. Who carried everyone else’s weight like it was his job. I figured if I kept moving, built a life, checked all the right boxes... maybe I could outrun the parts of me that still felt broken. Or empty. Or still in love with a girl who made me want to be better just by sittin’ next to me on a damn swing set.”

His voice wavers, but his eyes don’t. “I couldn’t outrun it,” he says. “And I sure as hell couldn’t fix it.”

The chocolate’s already started melting in his palm when he reaches for her hand again—not tentative, not uncertain this time. He takes it in both of his, holding on tight like it might vanish if he’s not careful.

“I don’t know what tomorrow looks like, Allie. I don’t know how to undo the things I messed up, or if I’ll ever feel like I’m enough again. But I know this—right now, sitting here with you... I feel more like myself than I have in years.”

He leans in just slightly, his forehead almost brushing hers. “And if you believe in me—even after everything—then maybe I can try to believe in me too. Not all at once. But a little more every day.”

He pulls back enough to brush his thumb beneath her eye, gently catching the tear before it falls. His touch is soft. Familiar.

“You’re not the only one who wandered, you know. I’ve been lost for a long time. But maybe... maybe the road back starts here." With you. "With this.”

He pauses. Then, softly, like a vow: “I missed you every damn day, Allie. Even when I told myself I didn’t.” He unwraps the chocolate she handed him earlier and pops it into his mouth again, this time letting it melt on his tongue. Like maybe he’s learning how to savor things again. Like maybe second chances can taste sweet.

His lingering touch had her eyes drifting down to his hand, almost needing to see that the warmth seeping into her skin from his touch was real and not imagined. Her own hand found his, giving it a gentle squeeze- a silent response to his silent gratitude.

And despite the fact that he sat there in front of her, drunk and emotional, vulnerable in a way she wasn't sure he'd been in a long time, Allie found herself grateful for their time together. She'd felt it when he showed up at Margot's funeral and gathered her in his arms, allowing her the first moment of reprieve in her grief as she fell apart. No words had even been spoken between them before the tears came and she hadn't been cognizant of the way his presence was all she'd needed to feel safe enough to let go. Allow her walls to crumble, even if only temporarily, and to let out some of the pressure of the pressure pot of emotion she'd been holding in since the night of the accident.

Travis, even after everything they'd been through, was her home. The thought hit her in a way that had her frozen for a moment before a wave of guilt washed over her, threatening to pull her under and away from the present. How could he be her home when she'd been married to someone else? When he had a family with another woman? When neither of them had dared to address the fractured history they shared and instead chose to simply show up for each other when they were needed the most?

She didn't know how she would deal with the contradiction, the guilt of feeling whole with Travis when Margot had also been such a large part of her heart, accompanied by the feeling of being complete in a way she hadn't been since they'd parted. The simple joy it brought her to be able to bring him an ounce of comfort in a world that had clearly ripped most of it away.

It was his voice that brought her out of her head and back to him, her eyes refocusing on the man who'd taught her what love was supposed to feel like, and for a moment she could have sworn she'd seen him as he'd been at eighteen.

Blinking a few times, she offered him a small, apologetic smile. "And I didn't even have to aim." She teased, though her voice was quiet- only loud enough to be heard between them. "Guess some things really are like ridin' a bike."

Their conversation may have been heavy, too heavy, some would say, for two exes who'd only interacted a handful of times in the past decade, but still- the silences between them felt easy. Allie's usual need to fill the space didn't rise to the surface and she instead sat comfortably with him, quietly munching on the chocolate as she waited for him to be ready. Something she realized she may have been doing this whole time. Something she'd always do. Because no matter the distance, the time, the silence… Travis was worth it.

Her soft brown eyes held no judgement as they met his, unwavering in their sincerity as she listened to him. Affection shined through, mixed with silent sorrow for what he'd been holding on his own for so long. Her heart aches with the what-ifs. Would he still be feeling like this had she gone after him all those years ago? Rather than accepting his decision to leave, had she fought for him- for them, would he still have lost himself? Would she?

Finding her mouth running dry at his quiet confession, Allie swallowed and licked over her lips, buying time so she could find the right words. "I'm sorry you've had to carry all of that for all these years, honey." She began, her words careful but full of conviction. "But you can't outrun yourself. And you don't have to fix everything on your own. Everyone knows you're strong as hell, but we all need a little help sometimes. There's no shame in it." She reached out and gently cupped his face in her hand, a soft, intimate gesture that felt both forbidden and necessary, as her thumb swept across his cheek. "Sometimes we gotta slow down, let it all catch up to us. It hurts, God does it hurt, but the relief of not carryin' the world on your shoulders, even just for a moment, can be worth it." Was she talking about them in that moment? Maybe. But still, she continued. "Especially if we're not doin' it alone. And Travis, you're not alone in this. In any of it."

Allowing her hand to fall from his face and back to her lap, Allie brought her other hand up to tuck some hair behind her ear. She'd opened her mouth to speak again, unsure of what more she could say to help assuage his feelings, when he took her hand into both of his. The warmth seeping into her bones, like sunlight running through her veins as a bloom of heat tinted her cheeks and chest. But she didn't retreat, instead she curled her fingers and held on.

"I know it may not feel like it, but Travis Marshall, please know you are more than enough. Just as you are." Her grip on his hands tightened, needing him to understand just how strongly she felt about the words she was speaking into the shrinking space between them. "You don't have to know what to do right now, but…" Closing the distance so their foreheads were pressed together, Allie sucked in a slow breath before continuing. Her voice softer than ever, laced with all of the affection and conviction she could muster. "I will always believe in you. And I meant it when I said if I have to do it enough for the both of us I will. That's how strongly I feel about it. That's how much I believe in you. But I know you can find that belief in yourself again, too. I have faith in you, Trav."

She leaned away at the same time he did, allowing them each a sliver of personal space as her face leaned into his touch and her eyes closed for the briefest of moments. And when they opened again, her gaze instantly found his and a ghost of a smile colored her features.

"That's the thing about home, you can always go back. No matter how far you strayed, no matter how lost you are. It's always there. You just gotta look." Reaching up, she gently pinched his cheek just below his eye. How her heart could feel simultaneously heavy and light she had no idea, but then, Travis had always been able to bring out the most complex and simple emotions in her. Often at the same time. "I-"

She was about to admit to missing him, too. That even though their lives had gone two separate directions, with different partners and families, she'd always held him in her heart. But the noise from a group of teens walking by, their boisterous laughter and ruckus conversation, popped the bubble that had seemingly formed around them and Allie was jolted back to the reality of their situation. They were in public, he was in a decade long committed relationship, and she was overstepping.

"Speaking of home." She began, leaning back to allow more space between them as she gathered up the remnants of their candy and put it into the pocket of her cardigan to be disposed of later. "We should probably get you there, yeah?"

Even before she turns toward the voice calling it, some part of her should've known who it belonged to. She'd met Allie quite a few times. Twice over the phone, at least four or five times in person. Enough to know, Allie was a nice person. Someone sweet, friendly, and welcoming... all things, Sonny herself has never been exposed to prior to meeting Shane. MC life wasn't exactly all that kind to her or forgiving. And, it seldomly came without some sort of price to pay. The people of Briar Ridge were different. Built different. Allie, included.

There was no telling what she might've heard about her recently. But, judging by her surprise, Sonny was willing to go out on a limb and guess Shane hasn't informed her of her return yet. Or had he? "It is," just to be safe -- she treads lightly. Sussing Allie out for any indication that she might be crossed with her. Was she relieved to learn she was still alive? Upset she left, too? Or angry on Shane's behalf? Maybe all the above? "Hi, Allie." A warm smile, though clearly weak but surprisingly genuine, tugs at the corner of Sonny's lips as she stands up to meet Alison halfway. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions for me. You're certainly not the only one." With a gesture of her hand, Sonny urges Allie to have a seat beside her and, join her for a drink at the bar. "It's actually me. I'm back. You're not seeing ghosts. Although, I'm sure you probably wish you were."

Despite everything Sonny had put Shane through, Allie wouldn't deny the fact that she felt a surge of relief run through her knowing the woman was alive and seemingly unharmed. After everything she'd done and all the pain she'd caused- she was still Elijah's mother, and Allie knew first hand what it felt like to lose a mom and to watch a child suffer from the loss of a parent. She wouldn't wish that on anyone, even if she quietly thought to of her favorite people might have been better without the woman in front of her in their lives. But that wasn't an opinion she needed to voice or focus on. Instead, she slid into the empty seat next to her and turned to face Sonny- giving the younger woman her full attention.

"I wouldn't ever wish you were a ghost." She countered quickly, voice soft as a hand came out to rest gently on the other woman's arm for a brief moment before returning it to her lap. After everything she'd done to pick Shane back up after Sonny's sudden departure, she may have wished the other woman had stayed gone but she also knew that the knowledge that she'd seemingly left instead of left was a double edged sword. Happy she seemed to be alive and well, but angry and upset in the way she'd treated Shane and Elijah.

"You're right, I do have a lot of questions." She began slowly, hands fidgeting slightly in her laps, twirling her wedding ring around her finger absentmindedly. "But you don't owe me any answers." A small smile pulled the corners of her lips up. "How are you?"

As soon as Allie burst out laughing, Nate began shaking his head. "The disrespect!" Gesturing to Ryan and his clearly embarrassed face, Nate nodded in solidarity. "She's a nightmare, bud, we really can't take her anywhere." Slinging an arm around Ryan's neck, it was almost a world record at how quickly the young boy slipped out of it. "God, she's laughing at me, you're acting like you don't know me. The Cooper family have truly broken my heart today."

He might have been dramatic and proclaiming his heartbreak, but the amusement on his face was evident. "It's an amazing hat! It has bunny ears but is still male with the sports looking logo!" Gesturing to the white logo on the front of his hat, Nate wiggled his head so the ears of the hat would jiggle. "Ebay, for your information and I know you're only asking so we can wear matching ones next year. Don't hate me because you didn't think of anything this genius."

Taking the hat off, Nate placed it straight on Allie's head before running a hand through his hair. "You don't pull it off as well, but you do look cooler."

Her laughter couldn't be contained, no matter how embarrassed Ryan looked or how (faux) offended Nate was. It'd been too long since she'd laughed so freely and once the flood gates had been opened, it seemed there was no closing them. Then Ryan slipped out of Nate's grasp so effortlessly, Allie's laughter only intensified. So she wasn't the only one the pre-teen got embarrassed by and that was comforting... and hilarious. "The Cooper family is just trying to be honest with you." She got out between laughs, her hands rested on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. "But even when you embarrass us with your outfits and weird hats we still love you."

When the hat was placed atop her head, Allie's eyes instantly went up- as if she could see through her skull to the monstrosity now providing her shade from the afternoon sun. Shaking her head with an eye roll and amused grin, Allie pulled her phone out to look at herself in the camera and her uncontrollable laughter almost started again. "God, you really do have a big ol' head don't you?" She teased, pulling the hat off of her head and putting it on Ryan's- who scoffed and mimicked his mother's movements with this own phone before making a comment about not understanding how anyone could think this hat was cool. "I think we've collectively decided this hat should be retired for good, Nate. Maybe we can get you a cute little bunny tail next year or something. Not as manly but somehow not as cringey, either."

His heart’s thudding in his chest like it’s trying to get out, like maybe it’s finally had enough of being kept under lock and key. He doesn't flinch when she takes his hand, but he does look down at their joined fingers like he's surprised they're even real. Her warmth bleeds into him, up his arm and into places that have been cold for far too long.

"Baby," he repeats, soft and stunned, like the word itself could somehow stitch the last two decades together if he said it just right. Or she did. And God, it almost does.

Then her apology follows, and his face crumples just slightly at the edges, his features pulling taut like her saying sorry is the last thing he wants from her. His free hand comes up to rake through his already-mussed hair, eyes drifting to the horizon again—only briefly—before turning back to her with something close to disbelief.

“You don’t get to say sorry,” he says, quiet but insistent. “Not when I’m the one who blew it. Not when I'm the one who left you.”

The words hang there a second too long, heavy and bare.

He lets her guide him to the bench without protest though, sinking down like the weight of the day—and her, and all the things he’s been carrying—are finally catching up to him. He doesn’t try to reclaim his hand when she lets go. In fact, it stays exactly where it was, limp and open between them, like maybe part of him had hoped she’d keep holding on.

Her question—Did someone make you feel that way?—makes his jaw tighten just then, and it’s a few moments before he answers. When he does, his voice is hoarse. “Nah. No one had to.” He chuckles, but it’s dry and brittle, like the sound might crack if he’s not careful. “I’ve got a whole damn chorus in my head that does a good enough job of that all on its own.”

When she reaches for his hand again, he lets her take it. This time, his fingers curl around hers just slightly. Enough to feel like maybe he’s not so alone in all of this. And her answer—Don’t worry about me—makes him exhale through his nose like he wants to argue, like maybe he has worried, even when he wasn’t supposed to.

“I should’ve been around for all of that,” he mutters. “The kid. The grandparents. The wine and the bubble baths.” His smile is small, sad. “Even just the damn chocolate eggs. I should’ve been around for you.”

He stares at the candy in her hand, his gaze lingering there almost like it’s too much. Like kindness feels more dangerous than the liquor still warming his bloodstream. But he takes one. Slowly. Reverently. Like it costs him something. Like it gives him something, too.

Unwrapping the foil in silence, he doesn’t speak again until the chocolate’s half-melted in his mouth and there’s nowhere left to hide from what she’s asked. “I’m tired, Allie.” His voice is low, rasping. “Not just physically. Not just from today. I mean bone-deep. Soul-tired. I feel like I’ve been wearin’ someone else’s skin for years, and I—I don’t know how to get back to who I was. If that guy even exists anymore.”

He pauses, glancing sideways at her. “I tell people I’m fine 'cause it’s easier than explainin’ how grief don’t go away just ‘cause time passes. How regret shows up like an old friend you hate but still let in. How sometimes I wake up and it takes me a second to remember who I’m supposed to be now.”

He swallows thickly. “But you? You look at me like you still see him. The me I lost a long time ago. And that scares the hell out of me, Allie. 'Cause if he’s still in there... then I’ve got no excuse left for why I gave up on him.” His eyes meet hers again—more sober now, more raw than before—and for a long second, all he does is look at her. Like she might disappear if he blinks.

“But God, I've missed you,” he whispers, almost broken. “I didn’t know how much 'til just now.” He clears his throat roughly, then adds with the faintest smile, “And this is good chocolate. You always did know the way back into my heart was through sweets and second chances.”

And now, sitting there with Travis as he brought up their shared history, their shared pain, it was as if the simmering embers of their past just had gasoline thrown atop them and the flames roared back to life. Not when I'm the one who left you. She had to look away from him them, blinking once, then twice, in slow succession as she sucked in a painful breath through her nose.

Allie had lost a lot in her life. Her childhood, her biological parents, the ability to carry a child, her wife… and yet, despite it all, the loss of him still hit her the hardest. It was still the deepest wound, one that refused to heal completely, and his words had just ripped it wide open. "You did what you had to do." She offered quietly, doing her best to placate them both with words she'd found herself repeating any time their relationship got brought up. The day he'd left her was one of the hardest days of her life, but neither of them would benefit from her lamenting on that. He didn't need her to match his melancholy, so she pushed her own pain aside and finally brought her eyes back to him.

There were unshed tears shining in the corners of her eyes as she looked at him, unable to hide the emotion on her face as he bared his soul. Every part of her wanted to reach for him again, pull him into her arms and do whatever she could to help take away the pain she saw in his eyes. But she'd touched him enough, reached for a man who was no longer hers, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to let go again. So for now, she kept her hands to herself and did her best to contain her own emotions and allow him space to express his.

"I know it's hard to drown out the noise in your head sometimes." She started, her words careful, her tone soft. "But just because that chorus is loud doesn't mean it's right." She moved closer to him on the bench, her gaze never leaving his face as she turned so she was facing him completely- legs crisscrossed and tucked beneath her frame. "Nothings ruined tonight, Travis. And look around, no one but me's payin' attention to you." Tentatively, she reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. "There's no scene. There are no ruins. It's just us."

She lowered her hand then, already missing the way the warmth of his skin felt like the first rays of sunlight after a long, dark winter. His admission, that he should have been there, zapped the last of the warmth from her skin and it took everything in her not to look away again. The tears were back and she swallowed the lump that had appeared in her throat, forcing herself to speak past it. "You had your own family to worry about, honey." The reminder of Evan and Sadie was like salt added to the already gaping wound that was her love for Travis, but she pushed the pain away and continued. "You had your own kid and grandparents, wine and bubble baths... though Evan seems more like a whiskey kind of girl if you ask me." She offered him a soft, wobbly smile. "You were around for the chocolate eggs with Sadie. You are around for all of that with her. You-"

Unable to stop the crack in her voice, Allie finally broke eye contact and cleared her throat, head shaking reverently. When she spoke again her voice was quieter but didn't carry any less conviction. "You've been where you're supposed to be. With your family."

But did she believe that? Was he supposed to have had a family with another woman? Live the life they'd so meticulously planned together while they were just two kids in love with their entire lives ahead of them- without her? It was a question she'd battled with for years. She loved Margot and the life they'd built together but Travis and her love for him was always there. The pain, sorrow, jealousy she had no right to feel stayed tucked away in a box in her heart as she did her best to pretend like after he'd left she'd still been a whole person. Like he hadn't taken a piece of her with him. But now that box had been cracked open and all she could do was hope that the contents didn't spill out and completely consume her.

Watching as he took a piece of the chocolate, she matched his sad smile and set the small pile down on the bench between them, plucking one up for herself and carefully unwrapping it and popping it into her mouth. Unlike him, she'd never been able to let the sweet treat simple melt on her tongue and she'd chewed and swallowed before he'd gotten any words out. And when he finally spoke...

The vulnerability in his words sucked the air from her lungs and suddenly it hurt to even breathe. Her hands twitched by her sides, wanting to reach for him, to pull him to her, to do whatever it took to lift the burden he was carrying off of his shoulders.

She had a masters degree in counseling, she listened to children's problems daily and found solutions for them, but right now? Right now Allie felt out of her depths. Unsure of what to say that wouldn't be overstepping, scared that any words would cause him to clam up and shut her out- that she'd overstep without meaning to and end up out in the cold again. Because even though he was dredging up old feelings and opening old wounds, being in Travis' presence brought a warmth to her life that hadn't been there in twenty years.

So Allie simply allowed herself to listen, she let him get it all out until she couldn't hold herself back anymore and she reached for him. His admission that he'd missed her causing her to throw caution to the wind. However she was supposed to act be damned, she needed to hold him. And she had a feeling he needed to be held just as much.

"Who do you think you're supposed to be?" She asked once she'd gathered the large man into her arms, one hand coming up to run slowly through his hair. "Because who you are is enough, Travis. It always has been and it always will be."

Despite the shaking in both her voice and her limbs, Allie continued. "You can put it all down, you know. The expectations, the masks, the worries. You can put it down if you need a break. There are people who love you who will be around to hold you up, to carry what you can't right now." Pulling back a bit to look at him, Allie allowed her worry-clouded eyes to meet his. "Baby, I only see you. Just as you are. I always have. No one is who they were when they were a teenager but... what you put down you can always pick back up again."

Her hand found his cheek once more and her thumb brushed over the stubble there. "This is your life, Trav. Maybe it got away from you for a bit but you can find your way back. And you don't have to do it alone. You know that. I know you know that." She paused, lower lip falling beneath her teeth as she sucked in a breath through her nose. "But it's okay to be lost. Lord knows I've wandered through life, unsure of where to go or if I'm on the right path. But I found my way and so can you. I believe in you, Travis. I know you'll find your way. And if I have to believe in you enough for the both of us, I will."

But God, I've missed you. The words were both a balm and a new wound on her soul and she pulled him to her once more, her arms embracing him tightly as she let out a quiet sigh. "I've missed you, too, Marshall." The admittance came out without thinking, spoken directly into his ear before she laid her head down on his shoulder for a moment of selfish reprieve. Then she was pulling back, scooping another piece of chocolate up and unwrapping it, offering it to him with her own faint smile barely coloring her features and a silent tear sliding down her cheek, no longer able to hold all of her emotions in. "See? Maybe you're already findin' your way back to who you wanna be."

❝ Hibiscus flowers, palms, and sand have been the key to dignification all along? And I happened to chase it all my life only to stumble onto it by accident? ❞ Hand to chest, his grin nearly held more of the shape of a smirk, Niko tipped his head. ❝ How does a newly dignified man bestow his gratitude onto the title designator? ❞ The color that bloomed on the apple of her cheeks was something Niko had paused to take it, and he'd wished she hadn't taken back her touch so quickly. There didn't seem any right way to convey that feeling, and before he'd been given a chance to think something through Allie sank her teeth into her bottom lip.

Thankfully his reaction was imperceptible, that slight intake of breath—but, there was no disguising where his gaze had pinned. It'd actually taken Allie setting that lip free from torture and speaking for Niko's eyes to flicker up to her own. Hearing her laugh only encouraged him to find ways to provide himself with more of the sound. ❝ The government is too slow moving. You're better off putting yourself into hiding. I have a great uncle who exiled himself to island after embarrassing himself at a family event. Would you like his contact information for tips? ❞

He'd somehow effortlessly slid into her morning routine and she'd gone from looking forward to quiet sunrises to ensuring her routine was structured around making it to the cafe in time to share a portion of their days together. It was silly, really. A grown woman with a crush that gave her butterflies, but it was also refreshing. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this way about someone, the last time she was giddy enough to check her reflection in any reflective surface before seeing him. And finding him now amongst the crowd had been a welcome surprise.

"Who would've thought, right?" A grin of her own stretched her features and caused the corners of her eyes to crinkle, highlighting the way they sparkled beneath the bright sunlight as she looked at him. "You spend your whole life searching and suddenly, in the back of your closet, there it is." The sound that left her lips was akin to a very girlish giggle and she had to bring a hand up to cover her mouth, stopping the sound from escaping once more. God, she felt like she was in middle school, flirting with the boy she liked between classes. At least that's what the butterflies currently fluttering around in her stomach would make her believe.

One hand coming up to gather a small section of her hair and begin to twirl it around her finger, Allie let out a quiet hum of thought at his question. "Hmm… how would he? That's a good question." She mused, her tone playful as she looked up at him from beneath her lashes. "Unfortunately, I think that's something the newly dignified man will have to figure out himself. The designator can't have all of the answers now, can she?" Her tone was teasing, grin ever widening at their easy banter.

For a moment, her initial foot in mouth moment was forgotten and all that remained was the lightness in her chest as she gazed up at him, their eyes meeting and the butterflies in her stomach swarming in response. "Island life doesn't sound so bad… I could get used to having a year long tan." She mused. "Think he'd be up for some roommates? Or should I find my own island to disappear to? You know what, maybe I will take his number." More quiet laughter left her lips, head shaking in amusement as she felt her cheeks heat a bit more beneath his gaze.

Unable to stop herself, when Niko held his hands up in the half shrug, Allie's own raised and she placed her palms in his, pushing his hands down as she shook her head with a grin. "Oh how the mighty have fallen." She teased, "But look at that, a way to climb your way back to the top. Earn the title back by doing some good in that dignified shirt of yours."

This time it was her turn to feign wounded, her hands coming to rest over her heart as she let out an exaggerated gasp. "I wouldn't do such a thing! Upstanding citizen over here, remember?" Despite her attempts to appear aggrieved, the playful smile fought its way back onto the guidance counselor's features. It seemed she couldn't contain the expression when she was around him, especially when he was so effortlessly going with her bits. "A stroll?" She questioned, feigning ignorance as she straightened and linked the arm that wasn't holding her nearly empty basket through his, "I could go for a stroll." She mused. "Lead the way, Little John."

"I think we were both a little distracted, though the smell of food wasn't exactly calling to me since... ya know." She nodded down to the stack of plates in her arms with a soft, almost self deprecating laugh. "I was more looking for a safe place to land and enjoy... well, enough food for four I think." She mused, her smile warm as she nodded. "Emil, of course."

At his easy laughter and warm nature, Allie felt herself relaxing, her own smile growing as she nodded along in agreement as he spoke. "Embracing the spirit. Absolutely." Her smile widened into a grin and she was about to accept his offer when she realized her drinks had fallen to the grass between them. "I've got a hold on the food I think, but if you could grab my drinks, please? I'd really appreciate it." Her smile had settled into one full of warmth and gratitude. "I was actually heading to a table just over there- if you want you could join me?" She offered, motioning to an open picnic table with a nod of her head. "We've already established I bought enough for four, I'd hate for any of it to go to waste because my eyes were bigger than my stomach."

As his body sways slightly with the momentum of his stop, he blinks at her repeatedly like maybe she was just another memory his brain conjured up after too much sun and too little sense. But then her hand finds his shoulder, and her face tilts up to his, and—God help him—there she is.

“Allie,” he whispers her name like a prayer of his has been answered, like the word alone could explain away the half-empty flask clutched loosely in his grasp, and the haze clouding his eyes. But, it doesn't.

So, he takes another breath, long and measured, like he's trying to sober up on her presence alone. Even if, that doesn't quite work either. Meanwhile, his eyes—bloodshot and glassy but not unfamiliar—meet hers, and something in them flickers. Shame, probably. But also that soft, slow pull that has never quite faded no matter how much time has passed between them.

“I’m fine,” he says to her out of habit, before immediately wincing. Travis was many things, but he’d never been a good liar—not to her. “I mean… I’m not fallin’ over or startin’ a brawl in the parking lot, so in this family, that’s technically fine.”

He gives her a low, humorless chuckle before looking away and swallowing hard. “Should’ve just gone home. That’s what smart people do, right? Call it a night, take their wins where they can get ‘em.” He shakes the flask in his hand like it was a coin toss, then tucks it into his jacket pocket like it's something shameful he needs to hide. Which, right now, it is.

Afterwards, Travis looks back at her, and the quiet between them isn’t as empty—it's heavy. Full of all the things they haven’t said in years, and some things they still couldn’t.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to make a scene,” he adds to her softly, his voice rough like gravel under his tired boot. “Didn’t mean to… ruin anything.” It's clear he's not making any sense. But, that's partly due to the alcohol inebriating him.

His gaze soon drifts to the horizon where the lanterns were starting to rise, delicate lights carrying on wishes and grief and hope. And suddenly, all of it—the beer, the laughter, the matchmaking, the half-healed ache he’s been trying to ignore all damn day—just hits.

“I was just tryin’ to make it through one goddamn day without feelin’ like I’m fakin’ it,” he murmurs, more to himself than to her. “Everyone’s got their thing, y’know? The story they tell so people stop askin’ if they’re okay.”

As he looks at her again, really looks, he goes on to ask: “You doin’ yours too? Or were you actually okay tonight?” Because that's Travis, even when his hands are shaky and his heart is a mess—he's still making space for the people he loves. Which, yes, would always include her.

Standing there with what felt like a lifetime of separate memories and experiences between them, Allie could still see him. And what she saw had her patchwork heart aching and her hands itching to reach out and hold him. To ground him to her so she could help carry whatever was weighing him down. But she couldn't do any of that- it wasn't her place anymore. He wasn't hers anymore. He hadn't been for a long time.

Instead of an embrace, she offered him a warm, comforting smile despite the emotions warring within her. When their gazes locked, she couldn't look away. They held a familiarity she felt like she'd been chasing ever since he walked away, a warmth she'd been missing while growing accustomed the the chill of life without him. And despite their glassy appearance and unfocused gaze, Allie couldn't look away. In fact, she found her feet moving on their own accord, taking a step closer before she regained full control of her faculties and halted her movement.

It was only when he spoke, the nearly automatic response she knew was a fallacy, that she herself flinched. Her eyes breaking away from his as they slid to the ground between them. It was only when he said this family that her gaze returned to his face, a soft, barely imperceptible frown on her otherwise smooth features.

"You don't sound fine, baby." Maybe it was the concern she felt deep in her bones for him, or the exhaustion from the day's activities that had caused the slip, but either way it had her eyes widening and a sinking feeling deep in her gut. One so sharp that her hand came up to rest there in an attempt to quell the ache. "I'm so sorry." She whispered, her voice only loud enough to carry between them. "I-"

Her excuse faltered, voice wavering as she shut her mouth. She what? Forgot herself? Got lost in being this close to him again? Missed him? Yes, all of the above. But none of which she could admit, so instead she simply focused on the man before her and the words he ground out, her brow furrowing as concern washed over her in waves.

"Hey, come on." Gently grasping his wrist in one of her hands, Allie ignored the burn of her skin on his again as she led him to a slightly secluded bench and gently guided him down onto it before releasing his wrist and sitting next to him, her hands now shoved deep into the pockets of her cardigan in a feeble attempt to stop herself from reaching for him. "You haven't made a scene, Trav. And you definitely didn't ruin anything." She paused in an attempt to stop the next question from tumbling past her lips, and yet a second later... "Did someone make you feel that way?"

As his gaze drifted to the lanterns, hers didn't stray. She took in his features, both familiar and foreign, and allowed herself to really look at him. To drink him in. And it made her stomach churn with how much she could still read him, how much her heart felt like it was clawing to climb out of her chest and take up residence in his- it's rightful home. But then his eyes were back on her and they carried a vulnerability within them that had her breath escaping her in a quiet exhale. "What's goin' on with you, T?"

Once again her body moved without her permission, as if on instinct she reached for him, taking one of his hands between both of hers in an attempt to soothe him. Heal a little of what she knew was broken without understanding the cause. "Mm-mm." Shaking her head, she offered him a soft, reassuring smile. "I'm doin' just fine. My kid is happy and with his grandparents and I've got a bubble bath and a glass of wine waitin' for me at home. Don't worry about me." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Tell me about you. Whatever it is, you don't have to carry it alone. Let me help." Maybe she was asking too much of him, inserting herself where she didn't belong. But she could see the heaviness weighing him down and all she wanted to do was help alleviate some of the pressure in whatever way she could. And after a brief pause she continued, afraid she was inserting herself into his life and wanting to offer him and out were she pushing too hard.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to, but getting whatever it is off your chest could be a good release." She offered, reluctantly releasing his hand and reaching into her pocket once more, only to withdraw her hand with a few pieces of Easter chocolate in her palm. "And if that doesn't work, or you're not comfortable with talkin' to me... how about some chocolate?" Her light smile was an attempt to lighten the situation they'd found themselves in and she extended her hand between them, the colorful foil wrapped around chocolate eggs shining beneath the lantern light.