Chapter 5
Madison
Ihadn’t packed for an extended time away from home.
The duffel bag at my feet looked pitifully small stuffed with Olive’s clothes, her favorite stuffed Bunny, and whatever essentials I’d managed to throw together when Blair insisted we couldn’t spend another night in my ruined house.
Everything else, our books, Olive’s drawings on the fridge, the rocking chair where I used to rock her to sleep, was left behind, damp and sagging under a half-collapsed roof.
And now I was standing in front of Seth Cunningham’s ridiculously large property, staring at a house that looked like something out of a magazine.
Correction, his guesthouse.
I shifted Olive higher on my hip. She was half asleep, her little curls damp from the humidity, thumb tucked into her mouth. She’d been cranky all day, and I couldn’t blame her. Our home felt safe, familiar. Now everything smelled like mildew and wet wood, and the only option was this… arrangement.
Blair’s words echoed in my head; It’ll only be temporary, Maddie. Just until your house is fixed. Seth doesn’t even use the guesthouse; you’ll hardly see him.
I wasn’t sure which part of that was supposed to make me feel better.
Living on Seth’s land, who had made it his life’s mission to irritate me since we were kids, wasn’t exactly on my list of dream scenarios.
The man was grumpy, infuriatingly attractive, and far too sure of himself.
He was also Blair’s brother, which made avoiding him impossible.
Still, Olive shifted against me, sighing in her sleep, and I swallowed my pride. It didn’t matter if Seth and I got along. What mattered was that my daughter had a roof over her head tonight and was safe.
I grabbed the key under the welcome mat that Blair had mentioned and unlocked the front door.
The guesthouse door creaked when I opened it, and I was immediately hit with cool air and the faint scent of cedar.
My jaw dropped as I looked around. High ceilings, wide windows, clean lines everywhere, it was modern but warm.
Clearly, it was designed by someone who cared about details. Probably Seth himself.
I set Olive down gently on the couch, draping a blanket over her. She barely stirred. My chest loosened a little. At least she was comfortable.
The sound of footsteps on gravel snapped my head around.
Seth.
He walked up the path from the main house, still in his work boots, clipboard tucked under one arm.
He stood a little over six foot three, broad shouldered and clean cut, with eyes the same green as Blair’s, only sharper.
Even in the dim light, he looked annoyingly put together.
Dirty blonde hair just messy enough to look intentional and a faint crease between his brows like he was carrying the whole town’s problems on his back.
His gaze flicked from me to Olive and back again. “So it’s true. You’re moving in.”
I crossed my arms, heat rising to my cheeks. “Not by choice.”
His mouth twitched, the closest thing to a smile I’d seen from him in years. “Trust me, sweetheart, it wasn’t mine either.”
I bristled at the nickname, but before I could snap back, Olive stirred and let out a soft sigh. Seth’s expression softened for half a second, his eyes lingering on her tiny frame under the blanket. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual cool detachment.
“Well,” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “The guesthouse is yours for as long as you need it. Don’t burn it down.”
And with that, he turned on his heel, heading back toward his house without waiting for a reply.
I glared after him, every childhood insult and teenage argument flashing through my mind. Some things never changed.
Except Olive shifted again, clutching her Bunny tighter, and my heart squeezed. Maybe this time, they had to.