Elise squeezed his hand, eyes steady on his. “The ranch will keep ordering because they know you’re the only one who gets it right. Triple-checking or not, you make it look easy.”

Ash wiggled up against Grant’s side, bunny mashed to his chin. “Daddy builds everything right,” he mumbled, already climbing over his legs.

Elise brushed a curl off Ash’s forehead. “See? Certified expert review.”

Her gaze flicked back to Grant, lips tugging. “And as for your apprentice? If you managed to fix blotchy cowhide oak without making him quit, that’s not a mistake. That’s patience. Which, frankly, I’m impressed you still have after this house.”

From her corner, Jovie piped up with a huff. “We’re delightful, thank you.”

Elise arched a brow at her daughter. “Delightful chaos still counts as chaos.” Then, softer, back to Grant: “But that’s you. Fixing things. Holding them steady. Even when you’re tired.”

Her thumb skimmed his again, a rhythm as familiar as the rain easing outside.

“And then you came home,” she said, a little quieter, “to us. To this.” She gestured to the crooked sheets, the fairy lights, Ash now trying to balance a gummy bear on Grant’s shoulder like a medal of honor.

Elise leaned closer into him, her hair brushing his arm. “So yeah. Stormproof. Because you walked in the door.”

Jovie, ever the opportunist, shoved her sketchpad into the gap between them. “And because the design works, Mom.”

Ash chimed in around another gummy bear, “And because I’m guarding!”

Elise laughed, eyes still on Grant. “Guess it’s a team effort.”

But her voice softened as she added, just for him, “Still — you’re the part that makes it hold.”

Grant didn’t speak right away.

Couldn’t, really.

Because God — that voice of hers when she said things like that. The kind that didn’t ask for credit, didn’t flatter for effect. Just told the truth like it was fact. Like she’d already seen the cracks in him and didn’t care if they stayed there — so long as he kept showing up.

His chest tightened, but not in a bad way.
More like something was expanding in there.
Making room.

Ash clambered higher onto his lap, gummy bear still posted proudly on his shoulder, bunny ear in tow. Jovie was half-buried under her latest blueprint draft, elbow-deep in a conspiracy of fort upgrades. The fairy lights buzzed quietly around them. And Elise — Elise — was still watching him with that steady, warm look that undid him every damn time.

“You’re the part that makes it hold.”

That one hit straight in the ribs.

Because the truth was — he didn’t always feel like that.
Not at the shop, not in the world. Not even in this house some days when the roof leaked or the sink groaned or the wiring shorted again like it was laughing at him.

But she said it like it was already settled.
Like it had always been true.

His jaw shifted slightly, eyes dragging over her face — that small smile, those soft lashes, the impossibly patient way she was still holding his hand like they weren’t both being trampled by half-sleepy, sugar-laced gremlins.

He turned her hand over in his, brushed his thumb across the center of her palm.

Then finally — quiet, but real:

“I don’t always know what I’m doing, El.”

Another gummy bear hit his knee. Ash giggled, victorious.

“But I know this—”
He tipped his head toward the mess of blankets and fairy lights, toward the giggling and the eye rolls and the half-drawn blueprints scattered like confetti.
“This? I’d rebuild it a hundred times.”

And he meant it.

He’d sweep the floor again.
Fix the damn sink again.
Rewrite the budget in his head so she had the good olive oil and the kids didn’t notice when he skimped on lunch.
He’d patch drywall one week and teach a kid how to sand properly the next.
He’d keep holding it — all of it — just because it meant something to them.

To her.

His hand gave hers another squeeze, eyes never leaving hers.

“Not stormproof because I walked in the door,” he said softly. “Stormproof because I finally figured out where to stay.”

And there it was.

His truth — plain, unpolished, and hers.

Elise felt his thumb skim her palm, and for a second, she forgot about the fort creaking over their heads or the way Ash was treating Grant’s lap like a jungle gym. All she could feel was that quiet weight in his words — the kind that landed right in her chest, the kind that made it hard to look away.

She let out a soft laugh, tilting her head. “Grant Whittaker, you’ve been saying you don’t know what you’re doing since the day you changed your first diaper. Newsflash — you’re still here. So clearly, you do.”

Ash interrupted with another gummy bear launch, this one bouncing off Elise’s shoulder. She plucked it from her sweater and popped it in her mouth before either kid could protest. “Mm. Tastes like proof you’re doing just fine,” she teased, giving Grant a sidelong smile.

Jovie pushed her glasses up her nose, already sketching again. “If you rebuild it a hundred times, Dad, we’re going to need a materials list. And better snacks.”

Elise chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just trying to unionize before bedtime.”

She shifted closer, shoulder pressed to his now, her voice dropping lower. “Stormproof isn’t about knowing what you’re doing every second. It’s about staying. You’ve always stayed, even when it was hard. That’s the part that matters.”

Her thumb brushed across the back of his hand, a soft anchor. “You’re the one who keeps it standing, Grant. The rest of us just make it loud.”

Ash, still sprawled across his dad’s chest, piped up through a yawn, “I’m not loud.”

Elise arched a brow at him. “Says the boy who narrated the storm like a sports announcer.”

Jovie snorted, and Ash buried his face against Grant’s shirt, muttering, “I was protecting us.”

Elise leaned in closer to Grant, her smile tugging soft. “See? You’re stormproof. And apparently, our official fort captain.”

And though the kids kept bickering about who got the last gummy bear, she stayed pressed against him — steady, certain, letting him know without saying it outright: he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

She didn’t say it for effect.

Didn’t say it like a speech, or a bandage, or something practiced.

She just meant it — every single word.
And Grant felt it all hit somewhere low in his gut, slow and warm and relentless in the way love sometimes was when you weren’t used to recognizing it.
Not the loud kind.
Not the runaway movie scene kind.
But the kind that settled into your ribs and refused to be moved.

Her thumb brushed his again.

That anchor.

His chest tightened, but this time it didn’t hurt. It just felt like home.

The way she looked at him — like he wasn’t some guy just trying to keep up with all the parts of life that cracked and groaned and cost more than he had — but someone who mattered.
Not for what he fixed.
But for what he was.

The guy who stayed.

The guy who kept showing up, even with sawdust in his cuffs and grocery lists running through his head and glue still on the side of his damn boot from fixing Jovie’s diorama five minutes before school drop-off.

He didn’t feel like much most days.
But sitting there — with her shoulder against his, her voice low and sure, Ash breathing slow against his chest, Jovie arguing about fort union rights like she hadn’t been coloring on the wall an hour ago —
He felt like enough.

Grant dipped his head slightly, catching Elise’s temple with a soft kiss, brief but certain. Not for show. Just because he could.

Because this was the good stuff.

Because for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he was holding the roof up alone.

“Guess we’re both staying then,” he murmured, voice barely a breath.

Then, louder — for the sake of fort morale:
“But I swear to God, if the union demands gummy bear raises, I’m calling in HR.”

Jovie gasped. “Mom is HR.”

Grant groaned theatrically, and Elise snorted into her sleeve.

But even as the kids started arguing about snack-based wages again, he didn’t move away.
Didn’t pull his hand from hers.
Didn’t shift when she leaned in closer.

Because she was right.

He was the one holding it steady.
And she — God, she — was the reason he’d never stop.