Chapter 23
Madison
Morning came too quickly.
Olive had crawled into my bed sometime during the night, her little feet tucked against my hip, Bunny wedged between us. I lay there until long after dawn, staring at the ceiling of the guesthouse while she breathed softly beside me. My mind spun in loops I couldn’t quiet.
The storm. The insurance adjuster. The way Seth’s hand had steadied me in that office, firm and grounding. The words he’d spoken outside, low and certain, how he promised the guesthouse was ours for as long as we needed.
I wanted to take comfort in that. Part of me did. But another part, stubborn, scarred, the part that remembered every person who had left me behind. My inner voice kept whispering that it was dangerous to lean on someone like Seth Cunningham.
Still, I got up, slipped into my jeans and a soft tee, and coaxed Olive into her dress with little sunflowers stitched across the hem. She twirled, grinning, and I kissed the top of her head before pulling my hair back into a bun.
By the time we reached The Beanery, the square was already buzzing. Vendors sweeping their sidewalks, flower boxes spilling over with color, the fountain gurgling in the center. The town wore its morning routine like a familiar hug. For the first time in days, I almost felt normal.
Inside, the coffee shop smelled like roasted beans and cinnamon muffins fresh from the oven. Evie was behind the counter, apron dusted with flour, her smile wide when she saw me.
“You holding up?” she asked as I tied my own apron.
“As much as I can,” I said with a small smile. “Olive’s excited to be back here, so that helps.”
Olive had already claimed her corner table, crayons spilling out like treasure, and Bunny propped beside her cup of milk. She gave me a little wave before plunging into her drawing.
The rhythm of work was steady. Orders called out.
Espresso steaming. The hiss of milk frothing.
My hands moved on instinct, but my head was somewhere else.
Replay after replay of yesterday’s meeting.
Of Seth’s voice saying that we could stay.
Of the tiny smile Olive had pulled out of him at the shop when she called him uncle.
It all left me feeling unsteady, like the ground under my feet was shifting.
The bell above the door jingled, and my stomach gave a lurch.
Seth walked in.
Still in work boots, shirt already damp at the collar, clipboard tucked under his arm. He looked like he’d been up for hours, like he’d already rebuilt half the town before most people had finished breakfast. His eyes scanned the shop, landed on me, and softened just barely.
“Morning,” he said.
I busied myself with the mugs. “You again?”
“Don’t sound so excited.” He leaned on the counter, close enough that I could smell sawdust and the faint trace of coffee already on him. “Black coffee.”
I gave him a look. “Sludge, right? You know there’s a whole menu here.”
His mouth curved like he was fighting a smile. “And yet sludge gets the job done.”
Evie raised her brows at me over the pastry case but wisely kept quiet. I poured the coffee, slid it across the counter, and tried not to notice the way my pulse skipped when his hand brushed the mine.
He didn’t move right away. Just stood there, sipping, watching me with that unreadable expression of his. The one that made me feel like he saw too much.
“You ready for round two with the adjuster?” he asked finally.
I stiffened, the memory of yesterday’s dismissal sharp in my chest. “Not really. But I guess we don’t have a choice.”
His gaze softened, and for a moment, his gruff tone slipped. “We’ll get through it. One way or another.”
I wanted to believe him. Needed to, even. But part of me couldn’t stop thinking about the long game, what would happen when my house was fixed, when the paperwork was finally finished, when Olive and I no longer needed the guesthouse.
Would Seth still be standing this close? Or would he retreat back into that quiet house across the lawn, walls up, doors shut?
“Mommy!” Olive called from her table, holding up a drawing. “Look, Bunny’s on the roof helping Uncle Seth fix our house!”
My cheeks heated, and I ducked my head quickly, pretending to fuss with the register. Seth glanced toward her, and his mouth twitched like he couldn’t help himself.
“Kid’s got a great imagination,” he said.
“She gets that from me,” I muttered, though my throat felt tight.
When he finally pushed off the counter and left, coffee in hand, the silence he left behind was louder than his presence. I leaned against the counter, heart racing, and told myself it was just stress. Just the storm. Just everything that was piling up against me.
But deep down, I knew it wasn’t as simple as that.