Chapter 33
Seth
By the time the sun started dipping lower, the yard looked different.
Not because of the neat rows of daisies or the patches of sunflowers Olive had planted with her little hands, but because it actually felt alive again.
The soil was damp, the air buzzing with cicadas, and a faint sweetness of watermelon still lingered in the breeze.
But it wasn’t the garden that had me sitting out on the porch long after Madison carried Olive inside to get her cleaned up. It was the way the day had felt.
I had not planned on spending my Sunday like that. Truth be told, when I woke up this morning, I figured I would get a run in, maybe knock out some overdue work emails, then keep my distance. That was the routine I knew. Distance. Control. Keeping things compartmentalized.
Instead, I spent the morning on my knees in the dirt, laughing harder than I have in years. Next to a little girl who decided I was trustworthy and a woman who looked at me in a way that unsettled every careful boundary I had built.
I leaned back in the rocking chair, letting it creak beneath me.
My hands still smelled faintly of soil, no matter how much I had scrubbed, and there was a streak of dirt under my fingernails that I somehow missed.
A ridiculous detail, but I could not stop looking at it, because it was proof of what had happened today. Proof that I had let myself just… be.
Olive had been fearless out there. She had no hesitation in handing me a new little plant, demanding I help her dig the hole “just right.” She had laughed until she hiccupped when she accidentally dumped half her watering can on my shoe.
And when she finally collapsed on the blanket, sticky with watermelon and popsicle juice, she curled into my side like it was the most natural thing in the world.
That part undid me. I had not realized how much I missed the weight of someone small trusting me like that. I had not realized how much I wanted it.
And Madison.
The sight of her kneeling in the dirt with sweat shining along her temple, hair slipping from her ponytail, not caring how messy she got, it hit me harder than I expected.
She looked free. Not polished or guarded.
Just herself. And when she told me I was giving her reasons to trust me, I almost forgot how to breathe.
I have spent years making sure no one could get close enough to do damage.
It was easier to focus on work, to be the dependable brother, the fixer, the one with the answers.
It kept people from noticing the cracks.
But Madison has a way of seeing through it without even trying.
She looks at me like she knows there is more, and for the first time, I don’t hate being seen.
I ran a hand over my face, trying to push the thoughts away. Letting feelings in, letting her in, was a dangerous idea. She came here because she needed a safe place. I told myself I could give her that without risking anything else. But after today, I’m not so sure.
The screen door creaked, and I glanced at the guesthouse. Madison stepped onto the path and walked toward me, her hair damp from a quick shower, her skin still pink from the heat. She carried two glasses of iced tea and handed one to me before she sunk into the chair beside mine.
“Olive’s out like a light,” she said softly. “Didn’t even finish her bedtime story.”
“She wore herself out,” I said, taking a sip. “That kid has more energy than both of us combined.”
Madison smiled faintly, her gaze drifting out toward the flower bed. “Thank you for today. I know you didn’t have to spend your Sunday doing this with us.”
“I wanted to,” I said before I could stop myself.
Her eyes met mine, and there was no teasing in them. Just something quiet and searching. “You’re good with her. With both of us.”
The words struck deeper than she probably meant them to. I looked away, focusing on the garden instead. “I don’t always feel like I am.”
“You are,” she whispered.
Silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable, but heavy with things neither of us was ready to say out loud. The cicadas buzzed, the rocking chairs creaked, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.
I should have pulled back. I should have put that wall up again before it was too late. But I didn’t. I let myself sit there, drinking iced tea beside her, pretending for just a moment that this was what life could look like.
A house with laughter. A garden full of possibilities. A woman who saw more in me than I thought was there.
And maybe, for the first time in years, I wanted it badly enough to stop pretending otherwise.