He tilted his head to indicate the cottage at their back. "I grew up here," he shared with her. There were days I didn't know if I could make it. But I knew you were out there somewhere, and I had to make it for you." He looked to see her watching him, her eyes misting over again. "I'm so glad I didn't give up."
"Me too." Her tear fell, and his eyes burned. She looked away. "I almost gave up too."
"What kept you going?" If she hadn't known about him, about her past, there had to have been something that had driven her to get up every morning and survive.
She swallowed and shrugged her dainty shoulders but stayed silent. Tristan didn't pry. One day, he would, but not right then.
"Are you happy?" he asked.
She looked at him, her eyes sincere. "I'm trying to be."
That was enough, more than enough.
Right then, he just reveled in the fact that he was sitting in the same spot he had all his life, with his baby sister finally by his side.