Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
SELENE
The carriage house smelled faintly of old paper and cedar polish, a scent that clung to the edges of history.
I sat at my desk, elbows propped on either side of the two faded photographs.
Alma’s photos stared back like the images might suddenly give up their secrets if I glared hard enough.
My coffee had gone cold beside me, ignored.
There was too much noise in my head—Austin’s laughter from this morning, Winnie’s conspiratorial giggle, the sound of a man’s boots scuffing across my kitchen floor like he belonged there.
Alma didn’t look like the ghostly figure the town whispered about on foggy nights.
She wasn’t ethereal or otherworldly. She looked solid.
Real. A woman caught in the middle of a life she hadn’t chosen, her spine stiff with duty and her eyes—well, whatever they once were, they were gone now.
Scratched out so violently I could almost feel the sharp point of a blade digging into the photo’s glossy surface.
I traced my thumb along the crease in the paper, my gaze drifting to the shadowy figure in the corner.
He wasn’t meant to be in the frame. You could tell by his posture, his watchfulness, the way his body tilted toward Alma like gravity insisted on it.
And god help me, I couldn’t stop seeing Hayes in him.
The same angled jaw. The same stubborn set to his mouth.
The faintest echo of my brother’s smirk.
The Keepers would likely call it coincidence. A trick of heritage and shadow, but I wasn’t so sure.
Hayes had always been sensitive about his so-called curse—the bad luck, the near misses, the way he’d never been able to hold on to anything good. What if it wasn’t a joke at all? What if it started here, with Alma and the man in the corner who was never meant to stay?
I dragged my hands down my face and pushed away from the desk. Dwelling on old photos and ghost stories wasn’t helping me. It wasn’t answering the bigger question clawing at my ribs.
How the hell had I let Austin slip so easily into my life?
The memory of this morning came in sharp flashes.
Austin sitting barefoot at my kitchen table, letting Winnie anchor pink barrettes in his hair with the same concentration she reserved for building her block towers.
His wide, calloused hands brushing my hips as I reached past him for the coffeepot, the weight of his gaze sliding over me like a caress.
He’d been gone for less than an hour, and already the house felt . . . hollow.
This wasn’t what I’d planned. This wasn’t safe.
I didn’t remember the last time I felt this wanted—this seen—and it terrified me. Wanting someone meant hoping, and hoping meant there was something to lose.
I rubbed at the ache in my chest, willing my pulse to settle.
Don’t overcomplicate it. He’s a good guy. It’s just mind-blowing orgasms and a little harmless fun.
Except that lie was getting harder to hold on to with every quiet smile, every casual touch, and every night he stayed too long in my bed.
By the time I closed up the carriage house and slipped on my boots, the sun had burned off the last traces of morning fog.
The afternoon was sunny and breezy, but fall was settling in.
I found Austin waiting at the bottom of the front porch steps, Winnie perched high on his shoulders like she was queen of all she surveyed.
Her pink sneakers bounced against his chest as she waved at a passing neighbor, and Austin—hands tucked loosely around her calves—grinned like he’d done this a thousand times.
The sight hit me square in the sternum.
He fits here so well.
“There she is,” Austin teased as I descended the steps. “Thought you might need to pull an all-nighter.”
“I was considering it,” I said, my lips curving despite the twist in my stomach.
Winnie reached for me, fingers wiggling in the air. “Mama! We’re going to the Crooked Spine! Austin says I can have a cookie the size of my face!”
“Only if it’s okay with you.” Austin shot me a mock-innocent look. “But I do like to be a man of my word.”
“You’re also a man who’s not dealing with the sugar crash later,” I countered with a stern look. He held my stare until I rolled my eyes with a laugh. “Let’s go,” I relented, falling into step beside them as we headed down Main Street.
Star Harbor was its usual Thursday-evening self—half asleep, half buzzing.
The hardware store had propped its door open to let the scent of lumber and oil paint drift out, and somewhere nearby a radio played faint nineties country.
Mrs. Donnelly waved from her florist’s shop, the air sweet with late-season dahlias.
“Good evening, Selene! Hello, Miss Winnie! And . . .” Her eyes lingered on Austin, curious. “Austin, isn’t it? I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. You’re Officer Brody’s brother, right?”
Austin’s grin was easy. “Guilty as charged.”
She eyed Winnie’s hand tucked into his. “Well, I’d say you’re settling in.”
Austin sucked in a lungful of coastal air. “I’d say Star Harbor feels a lot like home,” he said with a wink that made her blush and wave him off with a laugh.
We moved on, but I felt the weight of eyes tracking us down the street. Not hostile—just very, very curious. Small towns didn’t need social media. They had sidewalks and sharp peripheral vision.
“Does it ever bother you?” I asked under my breath, increasing the space between his shoulder and mine, just a bit.
“What?” Austin adjusted Winnie’s legs slightly.
I shrugged. “The staring. People wondering what’s going on.”
“Not really,” he said simply. His shoulder bumped into mine, mischief sparking in his eyes. “Let ’em wonder.”
My smile bloomed. I wanted that kind of ease, but my pulse still skittered. I had spent years keeping my private life tight to my chest, carefully curated to avoid giving anyone fodder for gossip.
“Faster!” Winnie giggled and tugged at Austin’s ear. “Faster, horsey!”
Austin neighed dramatically and broke into a light jog down the sidewalk, her squeal of delight bouncing off brick storefronts.
I laughed and watched them play as the knot in my chest loosened.
Watching them together felt . . . dangerous yet exhilarating, like standing too close to the edge of something that promised both wonder and ruin.
The bakery inside the Crooked Spine smelled like sugar and butter and yeast, warm enough to feel like a hug as we stepped inside. Winnie pressed her face to the glass case, leaving a perfect smudge as she deliberated between a sprinkle doughnut and a chocolate chip cookie as big as her head.
Austin crouched to her level, his grin lazy. “Tough choice. But I hear cookies are better for maximum chocolaty face mess.”
Winnie giggled and pointed decisively. “Cookie.”
“Excellent choice, Your Majesty.” He saluted and turned to the counter.
I slipped my phone from my pocket to check the time—and saw the text.
Brian
I need to swap next weekend. A new commitment came up. That works for you, right?
Polite. To the point. No greeting or asking how I was.
Just dismissive brevity, as if our entire custody schedule was a puzzle piece he needed to work into his important schedule.
In hindsight it was obvious to see that our relationship had always been like that—polite and little more.
It was further proof that emotion mattered little to the man who’d once stood in front of our families and pledged his love and devotion.
I scoffed under my breath as my stomach twisted. Turns out, I got neither of those things during the course of our brief marriage.
Austin was still at the counter, paying for the cookie and a coffee I hadn’t asked for but knew he’d hand me anyway. He shot me a cheeky grin over his shoulder, and I forced my lips into a faint smile that didn’t quite land.
Fear crawled across my skin.
It wasn’t Austin’s charm, his ease in my life, or even the way he had seamlessly folded himself into our small-town rhythms. It was how fast he could make me forget that I had to keep my guard up.
Brian’s text was a sharp, unexpected reminder that whatever this was with Austin—it wasn’t built to last. I’d made the mistake of trusting someone else with my heart, and it had nearly cost me everything.
I thumbed out a terse reply.
Me
I’ll see if I can adjust.
The screen felt heavy in my palm.
“Selene?” Austin’s voice was a gentle nudge that pulled me back to the present. He was standing in front of me now, holding out a cup piled high with whipped cream. “It’s a mocha-chip fratboy something,” he said playfully. “Thought you could use the caffeine.”
“Mmm, frappe. Yum.” I took it automatically, my fingers brushing his, but the warmth from his hand didn’t reach me. “Thanks,” I murmured with a half smile.
His eyes narrowed, reading me like he always seemed to do. “You okay?”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah. Just life stuff. It’s nothing.”
The white lie sat bitter on my tongue.
Austin didn’t push, but his thumb swept lightly over my knuckles as he handed Winnie her massive cookie. “Well, if life stuff needs punching, you know where to find me.”
My laugh came out quicker than I intended. In hand-to-hand combat Brian wouldn’t stand a chance against Austin. It was the one thing that made me feel the most shame: I had given myself completely to a man who never fought for anything, least of all me.
I glanced at Winnie and my shoulders relaxed. If I focused on her, everything else would fall into place.
Deep down I knew that Austin deserved more than this—more than my half smiles and subtle deflections, but he didn’t know what it was like to carry the weight of a child’s stability.
It was exhausting to field every curveball life hurled at you alone.
Too many times I had been left holding all the pieces when someone else decided they were done trying.
I took a deep breath and painted on a sunny smile for him and Winnie.
This is my mess, not his.