4. Matt
MATT
The steady rhythm of hammer against wood echoed through the quiet cove.
Matt leaned into the swing of his arm, sinking the nail flush with the plank that stretched across the half-finished porch.
He straightened, wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist, and stepped back to survey the line of new boards that ran along the front steps.
Three weeks ago, this porch had sagged, its railings loose, its paint curled and gray from years of salt air.
Now it was sturdy, straight, and slowly reclaiming the clean lines it must have once had.
It was the kind of progress that mattered. Not grand, not fast, but something that could be measured with his own hands.
The house had been little more than a shell when he bought it.
Locals had called it haunted, shaking their heads at the peeling paint and the shutters that hung crooked like half-closed eyes.
Inside, the walls had needed painting, the wiring had been a tangle, and more than one floorboard had groaned with rot.
But underneath, the bones had been good.
Solid. All it needed was someone willing to strip it down and put in the hours.
He found a kind of peace in that work.
The scrape of sandpaper, the scent of sawdust, the smell of fresh paint clinging to the air—it all gave him something to hold onto.
When his mind drifted, when memories tried to claw their way in, he could press them back by focusing on the grain of the wood beneath his hands or the way a fresh coat of paint transformed a room.
He shifted, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders, and set another plank across the sawhorses as the front door opened with a bang.
Matt sighed but didn’t turn around. He knew Alisha had just stepped through it, and he could feel her intense gaze boring into his back as she barrelled toward him.
Young people were always in such a hurry, Matt thought, amused, glancing at Alisha as she stopped beside him. Her hair was pulled back in her preferred style, and she had a pen and notebook in her hand. She shaded her eyes with one palm against the midday sun.
“Dad,” Alisha addressed him, “I was thinking about running into Key West. They’re having that summer festival and market. I could pick up some vegetables, maybe some fresh bread.”
Matt lowered the saw, resting his hands on the wood. “That sounds like a good idea.”
“I thought I might take Cody with me.” She tilted her head, watching him for a reaction. “I think he’d like the fair.”
“I’m sure he would,” Matt agreed with his daughter. “You used to love fairs at his age.”
Alisha nodded. “I was thinking of maybe asking Maggie if she wants to come along too. Cody and her seemed to instantly strike up a friendship.”
The mention of Maggie unexpectedly pulled an image of Carrie into his mind, and his heart gave an unwelcome jolt.
Annoyance shot through Matt, and he shook the picture from his head.
He shouldn’t be thinking of her. He had too much work, too much else to carry.
But the image of her snagged, unwilling to slip free.
He cleared his throat and set the saw aside. “That would be nice of you. I’m sure Maggie would love that.”
Alisha smiled faintly, jotting a note on her pad. “I’m going to need to take your pickup truck.”
“Sure.” He hesitated, then added, “If you don’t mind stopping by the hardware store, I could use a few more fittings. Maybe some extra lumber if they’ve got it cut to size.”
Alisha nodded. “Of course, I’ll add it to the list.” She watched him for a few seconds. “Do you need anything else while I’m there?”
He gave a small smile, the kind reserved for her. She had carried more than anyone should have to, yet she never faltered. He worried she gave too much of herself to work and to Cody, never saving any for herself.
“No,” Mat answered. “I think that’s all.”
“Great,” Alisha said. “Then, as soon as Cody and Maggie are back from the cove, I’ll ask Carrie if Maggie can join us, and we’ll be on our way.”
Before Matt could reply, the sudden burst of barking cut through the air, and he turned in time to see Muttley and Luna dashing across the grass toward the house, followed by Cody and Maggie’s laughter as they chased after them.
Matt’s hammer nearly slipped from his fingers as his gaze caught the sight of Carrie.
She walked behind them. Sunlight brushing her face, her hair loose in the breeze.
She laughed at the commotion in front of her, her expression softened in a way he hadn’t yet seen.
For a moment, the sound of her laughter carried across the space between them, warm and easy, and his chest tightened unexpectedly.
Then her eyes lifted, meeting his across the yard.
Her laughter faded, replaced with a steady, watchful look that sent his heartbeat into an uneven rhythm.
At the gate, Alisha smiled brightly. “Hello,” she greeted, her voice warm as she waved them toward the house.
Cody rushed forward, wrapping his arms around his mother’s waist, his words spilling in excitement about the morning picnic. Maggie stood close, Luna pressed against her side, both bubbling with the same energy.
Alisha listened, nodding with amusement, then crouched to their level. “Would you like to come with us to the market?” she asked Maggie.
Maggie looked up at Carrie as she stopped near them, her young face alight with hope.
Carrie studied her granddaughter for only a second before nodding. “If you would like to go, you should.”
“Yes, please!” Maggie bounced on her toes, her braid swinging.
“Go get a sweater and dust the sand off your feet first,” Carrie told her.
With a squeal, Maggie and Cody bolted toward Lori’s house, the dogs thundering after them.
Carrie turned to Alisha. “Thank you. It means a lot to her to have a friend here this summer.”
Alisha’s smile was genuine. “And to Cody, too. He’s been happier these past few days than I’ve seen him in a long time.”
Carrie nodded, her expression softening. She adjusted her tote on her shoulder, ready to head back, then paused. Her voice lowered slightly, her brow furrowed, and her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Have you noticed anyone loitering around the cove recently?”
The question caught Matt’s attention immediately. He set the plank aside, frowning as he wondered where that question had come from, or rather why Carrie was asking it.
Alisha shook her head. “No. It’s safe here. Nothing unusual.”
Matt glanced at Carrie, sensing something she wasn’t saying. Her eyes flickered, her mouth tightened just slightly. He opened his mouth to ask, but the children’s voices rang out again as they returned, carrying the clamor of excitement with them.
The moment slipped away, but it made Matt feel a little uneasy for some reason.
Carrie gave Maggie a quick hug, then stepped back as the flurry of departure overtook the yard. Alisha ushered Cody and Maggie toward the truck, Muttley bounding after them with eager energy.
“Not this time, boy,” Matt said firmly, catching the great dog by the collar as he tried to scramble inside. Muttley barked once in protest, his tail wagging furiously, before slumping back with reluctant acceptance.
Carrie called for Luna, who bounded at her side as she turned to go. “Thank you again,” she told Alisha with sincerity. Then to Maggie: “Be good.”
The truck engine rumbled to life, and with a wave, Alisha pulled out of the drive. Carrie headed back toward Lori’s porch, Luna trotting beside her, her dress fluttering against her legs as she moved away.
Matt stood, one hand on Muttley’s collar, watching her. A flicker of disappointment edged into his chest as she disappeared behind the hedges. He shook it off, telling himself it was nothing.
The truck’s sound faded down the lane, the quiet of the cove settling once more.
Matt’s head turned back toward Lori’s house and he stood staring at it before his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he’d skipped breakfast. Matt quickly finished what he was doing, and as he was wiping his hands, ready to go make something to eat, the sound of a bike’s bell tinged, and he saw Paula Day.
She was riding her pink bike with its matching basket perched on the front.
Paula was a local on the island in her early fifties, still very pretty, with a quick smile and always chatty.
She owned a vintage shop on the beachfront, which she ran from a cottage at the front of her house.
It was very popular with both the locals and tourists who visited the small island.
Matt drew in a breath; he didn’t think he was up to chatty Paula today, who was also the island gossip. All the residents would say that if you wanted to know anything that was going on on the island, Paula would know.
“Hello, Matt,” Paula waved, pulling up in front of his gate and fishing a cake tin from her bicycle basket. “I brought some of Cody’s favorite choc-chip cookies.”
Matt walked toward the gate with Muttley following at his heels, barking excitedly when he saw Paula, who always brought him treats.
“Hi, Paula,” Matt stopped at the gate and took the tin. “This is kind of you.”
Muttley barked and plopped his front paws on the gate.
Paula laughed and pulled a chew bone from the basket. “I didn’t forget about you.” She leaned forward, patting Muttley’s large head before giving him the bone.
Muttley took it and then dashed off with it, as if he was afraid Matt was going to take it away.
“You spoil him and Cody,” Matt told her.
“It’s nice to have people and dogs to spoil,” Paula told him with a warm smile, then glanced toward Lori’s house. “I believe Lori’s summer guest has arrived.”
Of course Paula would come and investigate. She had done the same thing the first day after Matt arrived, having bought the house.
“Yes,” was all Matt said, glancing back at Lori’s house before turning his attention to Paula. “I had better go. I have some calls to make.” His gut twisted a bit at the lie. “Again, thanks for the cookies and the bone for Muttley.”
“No problem,” Paula replied. “I thought I’d go say hi to the newest resident of Sunset Keys.”
“I’m sure Lori’s guest will appreciate that,” Matt said, hiding a smile knowing that Carrie probably wouldn’t. He didn’t know much about Carrie, but he could see someone trying to run or hide from something.
“Bye for now, Matt,” Paula called cheerfully, riding away.
“Bye,” Matt called back, giving a small wave.
Matt wandered into his weathered beach house, the screen door creaking behind him.
He popped open the vintage tin, releasing the warm scent of chocolate and vanilla.
The cookies inside were golden-brown with chocolate chunks still glistening.
He plucked one out, savoring the first bite as it crumbled between his teeth, sweet and buttery.
As he crossed the worn pine floorboards toward the kitchen, Muttley suddenly appeared in the hallway.
The dog's usual friendly demeanor had vanished—lips curled back to reveal sharp white teeth, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. Before Matt could react, Muttley shouldered past him with surprising force, nails clicking frantically against the floor as he bolted onto the front porch.
Outside, the dog's massive frame went rigid, his copper-colored fur bristling along his spine like a ridge of warning flags.
"What is it, boy?" Matt demanded, lunging after Muttley onto the porch. The dog's barking had transformed into something Matt had never heard before—a guttural, primal sound that raised the hairs on Matt's arms.
Matt's foot had barely touched the first step when an unfamiliar black sedan shot past, tires spitting gravel. The engine didn't just snarl—it screamed, a predatory howl that seemed to hang in the air even as the vehicle vanished around the bend.
Matt's body went rigid, his heart hammering against his ribs. Every instinct he possessed was suddenly, violently awake.
Coincidence, he tried to tell himself. But the word died in his throat.
Carrie's question about loiterers crashed back into his consciousness with the force of a physical blow, and the unease that followed wasn't just lingering—it was burrowing deep, making a home where his peace had been.