Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
The next afternoon, Connor stood on the sidewalk in the quiet residential neighborhood and studied the duplex where he would live for the next ninety days.
The exterior was well kept and unassuming.
Pots overflowing with blooms flanked the steps, and a ceramic frog—mouth wide open in permanent floral regurgitation—anchored one side of the stoop.
He couldn’t ask for a better setup.
Not only was the unit partially furnished and move-in ready, but the previous tenant still had three months left on the lease. He was subletting now and could decide later whether to stay long term.
Best of all, he was allowed to take possession immediately, which meant he was finally off the sofa in his parents’ office, where he’d been sleeping since Parker had claimed the guest room while Callum and Brynn were on their honeymoon.
A car pulled into the adjacent driveway, and Connor glanced over, a smile immediately lifting his lips.
Mac.
The day had just gotten even better.
He turned, a pizza box in one hand and a six-pack dangling from the other. She smiled and waved before stepping out of her car.
“Well,” he said, his grin spreading. “Looks like someone just finished a workout.”
“Guilty.” She hitched her gym bag higher on her shoulder, sweat-damp hair pulled back, interest sparking in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
She’d been breathtaking at the wedding in heels and midnight blue. Today, she was all muscle and motion, and somehow that caught him just as much.
Casual didn’t dull her presence. If anything, it sharpened it.
She indicated the unit behind her. “I live here.”
“No kidding.” His eyes flicked to the frog again, gleaming in the afternoon sun like a neon green sentinel. “I thought—” He stopped himself, amused. “Nice frog.”
She laughed. “Gag gift from a teammate. But hey, it works. Adds character.”
Her gaze dropped to the pizza and beer. “Are you visiting a friend?”
“I rented that unit.” He gestured with his beer hand. “Did a quick walk-through yesterday after I left Muddy Boots and decided to take it.”
“Harold said he and Edith planned to rent it for the same price as mine.” She nodded. “If that’s true, we both lucked out.”
“He seems solid.”
“He is.” She hesitated, then added, “I’ve wondered if that unit is a mirror image of mine.”
Connor watched her for a moment, measured and thoughtful. “If you’re not busy now, I’ve got time to show you.” He tipped the pizza box slightly. “And if you haven’t eaten, you could help me deal with this.”
She sniffed the air and smiled. “I’m curious and hungry. I’m warning you, it’s a dangerous combination.”
She took the pizza so he could shift the beer and unlock the door. When he opened it, he stepped back instinctively, motioning for her to go in first.
“This is your place,” she said, one brow lifting.
“True,” he said, holding the door so it wouldn’t swing shut. “But if anything jumps out at us, I want someone who can drive to the basket.”
That earned him a grin. She stepped inside.
The air was cool and still, carrying the faint citrus scent of a forgotten plug-in air freshener. The space had the sealed-up quiet of a place waiting to be claimed.
“It is indeed a mirror image of mine,” Mac said, glancing around. “Same floors. Same trim.”
Connor followed her gaze into the open living area. A modest stone fireplace anchored the far wall, afternoon light pooling across the wood floors. The layout was simple and efficient. Nothing fancy, but thoughtful.
“It feels…peaceful,” he said.
She nodded. “It is. After my last place, it took some getting used to. Now, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
They moved through the unit together, and she pointed out where the rooms lined up with hers. The bedroom at the back faced a stand of pines, the branches stirring gently outside the window.
Connor stopped there, then glanced toward the shared wall. “So if I get loud on a Zoom call, you’ll hear everything?”
She smiled. “Only if you pace. Sound carries weird in this corner.”
“Good to know.” His mouth curved. “I’ll save loud activities for the front porch.”
He meant it lightly, but the quiet that followed held something else. Awareness. Recognition.
“This place is more than I hoped for,” he said after a moment. “Feels like somewhere I could land, even if it’s just for now.”
She looked at him then, really looked. “It’s a good place for figuring things out.”
His gaze stayed on hers. “Is that what you’re doing?”
She didn’t deflect. “Yeah. Kind of.”
The silence stretched—not uncomfortable, just open.
Her eyes dropped to the pizza, then moved around the mostly empty room. “Unless you’re committed to eating this on the floor, you could come next door. I have chairs and a table.”
“That sounds like a much better plan.”
As she stepped outside, Connor felt the shift. Not dramatic, not dizzying, just the quiet sense that something had moved from possibility into intention.
Mac’s place was lived-in in a way she’d grown to love. Not styled. Not temporary. Just…settled.
She kicked off her sneakers by the door and nudged them neatly against the wall with her toe. Bella’s shoes were gone, telling Mac she was back at her own place.
“Make yourself at home,” she said to Connor, already heading toward the kitchen. “The good plates are a myth, but the chairs are solid.”
“I’m not picky,” Connor said, setting the pizza box on the counter. “I spent the last week eating whatever didn’t require explanation.”
She glanced over her shoulder, one brow lifting. “That sounds like a man living with his parents again.”
“Briefly,” he said. “And under supervision.”
Her laugh came quick and soft, then faded as she reached for plates.
They moved easily around each other as she opened cabinets and he found napkins without being asked. When he stepped aside to let her pass, she brushed by without hesitation, trusting the space between them.
They ate at her small kitchen table, knees brushing now and then beneath the worn wood. The pizza was still hot, cheese stretching when Mac pulled away a slice. She ate steadily, not rushed, setting the slice down between bites as if she was used to pacing herself.
“This is better than eating it over the sink,” she said, wiping her fingers with a napkin before folding it in half.
“I was prepared to,” he admitted. “But I appreciate the upgrade.”
“Are you always so impulsive?” she asked.
“Impulsive?”
“Seeing the place and moving in the next day?”
He smiled slowly. “I don’t think of it as impulsive, more like willing to commit when I find something that is right.”
Mac nodded. “I get that.”
She tipped her head toward the window overlooking the backyard. Wind chimes hung just outside, catching the faint breeze and tapping out a soft, uneven melody.
They finished eating before the conversation deepened. Connor leaned back, forearms resting on the table, the chair creaking slightly beneath his weight as he watched her.
“So,” he said, casual on the surface, “how long did you think you’d stay when you came back?”
Mac stacked their plates, aligning the edges carefully. She didn’t answer right away, fingers on the rims for a beat longer than necessary. “Two weeks,” she said finally. “A month at most.”
“And now?”
“Now, I don’t really measure it that way.” She slid the stacked plates closer to the center of the table. “I just stopped asking when I was leaving.”
Connor nodded once, gaze dropping briefly to the tabletop before lifting again.
“I didn’t plan on staying either,” he said. “Not like this.” His eyes moved through her kitchen—over the counter, the window, the magnet-cluttered fridge. “I thought I’d help my parents out, see Callum married, then head back to Seattle.”
“Since you’re moving in here, I’m guessing those plans changed?” she asked, meeting his gaze.
“My job lets me work from anywhere, so I thought I’d spend the summer here.” He tapped the edge of the table once and decided how much to say. “Especially since my living situation in Seattle is…unsettled.”
She leaned back in her chair. “Unsettled how?”
“My girlfriend and I were living together. We split three months ago.”
“I’m sorry, that’s tough. Any chance you might get back together?”
He shook his head once. “No. We’ve both moved on.”
The chair legs scraped softly as he shifted.
“I’ve been crashing on Ric’s couch in his Bellevue apartment since,” he added after a moment.
Mac’s mouth curved. “Would that be Ric Workman?”
“The very same.” Connor smiled. “Ric’s been great, but I know he’d like his sofa back.”
“Sounds to me like this is a perfect time to kick back and enjoy a summer in Good Hope.” Her tone stayed light, but she didn’t look away. “Good Hope’s a hard place to leave.”
“That’s how I see it.” He nodded. “My parents would love me to stay with them, but I need my space, and they need theirs, whether they realize it or not. Same with Callum.” He tipped his chin toward the door.
“So I went looking, and what did I find?” A grin tugged at his mouth. “A good place with an incredible neighbor.”
She smiled, small but genuine. “Sometimes we get lucky.”
“Sometimes we do.” He shifted his weight. “I’ve always had roommates. I’m looking forward to having my own place.”
“I understand that completely.” Mac lifted her beer and took a long drink, then set the bottle down carefully. “I’ve learned to embrace the quiet.”
“It’s new,” he said. “But exciting.” Connor drummed his fingers once against the table, then stilled them. “For me, it feels like things are still unfolding.”
Mac nodded once. “That’s the part you don’t want to rush.”
Silence settled between them, easy enough that neither rushed to fill it. The wind chimes sounded again, softer this time.
Mac stood and gathered the plates. “I should probably get these to the sink before I forget and they fossilize.”
Connor rose with her. “I’ll help.”
They worked side by side at the sink, passing plates, the water running steadily. When the second dish was set in the rack, neither moved away right away.
“I should let you get settled,” she said at last, brushing her hands together. “First night in a new place and all.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I should go.”
Mac picked up his empty beer bottle and set it beside the recycling bin, then they walked to the door together.
They stood there for a moment longer than necessary, the door closed, the evening pressing gently at the glass.
Connor reached for the handle, then stopped. “Hey, Mac?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you want to do something tomorrow?” He stayed where he was, not crowding her. “Not dinner. Something…daytime.”
Her brow lifted. “Like what?”
“Washington Island.” He tipped his head slightly. “The ferry, the whole thing. I realized I’ve never gone without a plan. Callum swears it’s different when you take your time.”
Mac blinked once, then smiled. “I’ve never been.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
She shrugged. “I was always headed somewhere else.”
“Then maybe tomorrow’s a good day for both of us to go somewhere without an agenda,” he said. “Just…see what’s there.”
She didn’t answer right away, then she nodded. “I’d like that. I really would.”
Connor smiled. “Then I’ll pick you up in the morning. Is eight too early?”
“Not at all.” She stepped back slightly, giving him room. “I’ll be back from working out by then.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
Connor opened the door. Evening air brushed his skin, cool and clean, carrying with it the unmistakable sense that something had shifted—subtle, steady and worth stepping toward.