Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
SELENE
I woke slowly, my senses pulling me into the soft edges of morning before my thoughts caught up. The first thing I felt was warmth—steady and encompassing, curling around me like a cozy blanket knit just for me.
Then the weight of his arm draped across my waist. His hand spread over my ribs, fingers splayed as if even in sleep he couldn’t stop holding me.
My cheek rested against his chest, and I could hear the slow, even rhythm of his heartbeat under my ear. It was unhurried. Certain.
For a moment I let myself stay perfectly still.
The air smelled faintly like soap and sawdust—Austin’s scent—and his smooth skin was soft beneath my cheek. I breathed in, even though I knew I shouldn’t.
He’d crash-landed into my life, and something about it felt like it wasn’t ours to keep, but I would hold on anyway.
I tilted my head just enough to study him in the pale light spilling through the curtains.
His face was softer in sleep—none of the playful grins or cocky smirks he wielded so easily when he was awake.
He was just a man. His lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks, his lips slightly parted as his breath puffed against my hair.
I let my gaze linger on the sharp line of his jaw, the faint stubble darkening his chin and upper lip.
My eyes caught on the small scar near his mouth, the one I’d traced absentmindedly with my thumb the night before.
I wondered whether it was from some childhood playground accident or a reckless bar fight.
There was still so much about him I didn’t know.
Something tight coiled low in my chest, and I forced myself to look away.
These feelings didn’t mean permanence. It didn’t mean we were building anything.
It was just a moment. One perfect, fleeting moment.
The floorboards creaked faintly as I made my way down the hall, tugging the sleeves of Austin’s sweatshirt over my hands.
The kitchen was quiet when I slipped in, and I immediately started a fresh pot of coffee.
When it was finished brewing, I wrapped my hands around the coffee mug, letting the warmth seep into my fingers as I stared out the window into the backyard.
The grass was bathed in gray light, an early-morning haze that made everything look gentler than it really was.
I should have felt triumphant, maybe even content. Last night had been . . . more than I ever let myself imagine.
But when I closed my eyes, I kept hearing the pain in his voice—low and hesitant in the dark as he talked about growing up in houses that never felt like home. How he’d grown up slipping through the cracks of other people’s lives, never quite a son, never quite enough.
I hated that for him. I hated that he carried around this quiet ache like it was just a fact of life, the same way some people carried keys or loose change.
My heart rolled.
It was too easy to fall into this—too easy to want more. To want to give more.
I took a sip, letting the creamy coffee settle heavy on my tongue. I wasn’t built for fragile things. I wasn’t built for waking up in a man’s arms and pretending it didn’t cost me something every time I let my guard down.
Behind me, I heard the faint creak of floorboards upstairs. A door opened, followed by the unmistakable thump of Winnie’s little feet hitting the carpeted floor.
Her laughter drifted down first—light and unburdened.
“Shhh,” Austin’s voice followed, low and rough with sleep. “Let’s not be loud for Mom.”
“She’s awake already,” Winnie whispered conspiratorially, though I could hear the grin in her voice.
“I know,” he said. “But she seemed pretty tired last night.”
“Did you keep her up past her bedtime?” Winnie’s innocent question had me choking on my coffee.
I couldn’t hear Austin’s whispered response, but I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. I knew the truth was he’d most definitely kept me up well past bedtime.
Moments later their footsteps padded into the kitchen. Winnie barreled straight for me, hair wild and her pajamas askew.
“Morning, Mommy!” she chirped, flinging her arms around my waist.
“Morning, my lovebug,” I said, smoothing a hand over her wild curls.
Austin trailed in behind her, running a hand through his own messy hair. His T-shirt clung to him in places that made it hard to keep my eyes from catching.
“Good morning,” he said, a faint smile on his lips before he leaned over and brushed a kiss to the top of my head.
“Morning.” I tried to keep my tone neutral, my hands busy pouring a cup of coffee for him.
I sucked in a deep breath. “You’re both up early,” I added after a beat.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, a half smile tugging at his mouth. “Winnie’s planning world domination from the sound of it.”
“I am not,” Winnie declared, climbing up on a chair. “I’m hungry. Can I have pancakes?”
“You’re in luck,” Austin said, brushing past me to grab a skillet from the cabinet. “Chef Austin is on duty.”
“Chef Austin,” Winnie repeated with a giggle. “You sound like a TV person.”
Austin shot me a look, amused. For a second, something unspoken flickered between us—warmth, familiarity, a question I wasn’t ready to answer.
I looked away first.
Winnie dangled her legs off the chair as Austin poured the first round of batter into the skillet.
The warm, sweet scent of pancakes lingered in the air, mixing with the faint smell of syrup and coffee.
The radio hummed low from the corner of the counter, a country tune filling the quiet spaces between their voices.
The room felt cozy and settled. It was like a snapshot of a life I wasn’t sure I would ever find.
“Can we paint your nails after breakfast?” Winnie asked suddenly, swinging her legs like a metronome.
Austin blinked, flipping a pancake without missing a beat. “My nails?”
“Yeah.” She held up her small hands, still sticky with syrup. “I wanna practice before school. Mom said I can bring nail polish for my friends during recess.”
I opened my mouth to intervene—save him, maybe. “Win, I’m sure Austin doesn’t—”
He grinned. “Sure I do.”
The words were so easy, so unhesitant, they caught me off guard.
“You do?” Winnie squealed.
Austin shot me a grin over his shoulder, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Hey, a deal’s a deal. She’s been asking since last week.”
“I have sparkly purple!” Winnie announced proudly. “You’ll look fabulous.”
Austin placed the spatula down and piled the pancakes high. “After you eat, you can do your worst, kiddo.”
My heart gave a traitorous little tug.
After breakfast, he didn’t flinch when Winnie started her work, her tiny brows furrowed in concentration as she painted each nail with meticulous care. He even blew on his fingers dramatically between coats, making her dissolve into laughter.
Even as thoughts tumbled through me and sharpened in my chest, a softer one unfurled beneath it.
Why does this feel so right?
By the time she was done, Winnie had painted all ten of Austin’s nails, and most of the skin around them, a bright glittering purple.
Satisfied with her work, Winnie bounded away from the table, and I caught her in a hug.
“Not so fast. You know the rules. Clean up your mess, please. Then it’s time to get dressed for school. ”
Winnie barely grumbled; she was used to my reminders. As she trudged away, her discarded backpack caught her attention, and she started rifling through it.
With a grin, Winnie waved a crumpled paper in my direction, her sticky fingers smudging the edges. “My music program! I’m gonna sing a solo!”
My brows rose as I reached for it, smoothing the creases. “You are? That’s wonderful, baby.”
“I’m gonna be so loud,” she said with a grin, her front tooth still missing and her voice bubbling with excitement.
Then she turned those big hopeful eyes on Austin. “Will you come too?”
Austin placed a hand to his chest like she’d struck him straight through. “Front row. Loudest clapper in Star Harbor. Deal?”
“Deal!” Winnie giggled, flinging her arms around his neck.
Something in me ached as I watched them.
He wasn’t her father. He wasn’t mine to keep either—not really.
But in this small, sunlit kitchen, with the smell of pancakes in the air and Winnie’s laughter bouncing off the walls, I let myself imagine what it would feel like if he was.
Just for a second.
The rest of the morning wrapped in a flurry of syrupy fingers, giggles, and Austin pretending he couldn’t use his newly painted hands to clear plates. Winnie chattered nonstop about school as Austin pulled her jacket over her shoulders.
“I can’t wait to show my friends your nail polish,” she said to Austin, already halfway to the door.
“I love you,” I called. “Have an amazing day!”
“I will!” Her head poked back through the door for only a moment. “Love you!”
Austin caught my gaze. There was something quiet in his expression, something that felt heavier than words.
“Have a good day,” I said, my voice softer than I intended.
“You too,” he replied before stepping forward and pressing a gentle kiss into my hair.
Then they were gone, the door clicking shut behind them, and the house felt too quiet all at once. I stood there, hands wrapped around my mug, staring at the space where they’d been. The sound of Winnie’s laughter lingered like an echo, bright and fleeting.
It was dangerous how easy it felt. How natural.
By late morning, I’d settled into the quiet hum of the carriage house. The air inside carried the faint scent of old paper and whispered secrets, a smell that clung to your clothes and hair after a few hours.
Stacks of brittle ship manifests and faded photographs covered the long wooden table in front of me, their ink smudged and edges curled with time.
My laptop screen glowed with scanned documents—obituaries, registries, and handwritten letters I’d been hired to digitize for the Star Harbor Maritime Museum.
I loved this work more than I’d ever admit out loud.