Chapter 34
Madison
The cicadas were loud enough to drown out my thoughts, their constant hum pressing into the edges of the quiet porch.
I sat back in the rocking chair with my glass of iced tea, condensation slipping down the side and cooling my fingers.
Inside, Olive was asleep within minutes of climbing into bed, her little watering can tucked beside her pillow like she couldn’t bear to part with it.
That left just me and Seth under the soft glow of the porch light.
I told myself it was fine, that it was just two people sharing a summer evening after a long day in the sun. But it did not feel simple. Not with the way the air seemed thicker between us, charged with something I could not name.
I risked a glance at him. Seth sat slouched in the chair beside me, his long legs stretched out, his glass of tea dangling from between his fingertips.
His shirt clung faintly at the collar, and his hair was damp from his shower earlier, but it was his face that caught me.
The hard lines I was used to were softened, his expression unguarded in a way I had never seen before.
“Blair would laugh if she saw you right now,” I said, breaking the silence before it swallowed me. My voice came out lighter than I felt. “Her brother, sitting barefoot on the porch, dirt still under his nails from gardening.”
He huffed out a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth curving. “She probably would. But I don’t care.”
The way he said it, low and steady, made my pulse trip. I turned my gaze back to the yard, where the flower bed we had worked on lay hidden in shadow, full of new life and promise.
I glanced at him again, taking in the relaxed expression on his face. For a man who seemed to live his life behind a wall, he looked entirely vulnerable right now. And that unsettled me in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
“Thank you,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
He turned his head toward me. “For what?”
“For today. For letting her in. For letting me in, too.”
Something flickered in his eyes, something that made my chest feel too tight.
He didn’t answer right away, just stared out toward the flower bed we had planted.
Finally, he said, “I don’t usually do this.
Any of this. Letting people close. It feels like—” He broke off, shaking his head.
“I guess I don’t know what it feels like. But it’s not bad.”
Not bad.
The words were simple, but I heard the weight beneath them. Seth Cunningham, the man who guarded his life like a fortress, was telling me he wanted us there.
My throat went dry. “It doesn’t feel bad to me either.”
We sat in silence, the kind that wasn’t empty but full, thick with everything we weren’t saying. My pulse drummed in my ears. I shifted in my chair, turning toward him. He mirrored me without hesitation, his knee brushing against mine.
The contact was small, fleeting, but it sent a rush through me. I held his gaze, the cicadas roaring louder around us, my heart hammering in my chest.
He reached up, hesitated, then let his fingers brush a loose strand of hair back from my face.
His hand lingered, warm against my cheek.
My breath caught. I had not been touched like that in years, not carefully, not with intent, not with reverence.
My body remembered what it felt like to be wanted, but my heart had forgotten. Until now.
“This feels… different,” he murmured.
“Good different?” I whispered.
He nodded, his thumb grazing lightly against my skin. “Good different.”
I leaned into his touch before I could second-guess myself. The choice was mine to make, and for the first time in a long time, I wanted to choose happiness instead of fear.
When his lips met mine, it wasn’t rushed or hungry.
It was slow, careful, the kind of kiss that asked for permission even as it gave it.
A promise more than a question. I melted into it, the taste of iced tea lingering between us.
The world around us slipping away until there was only him and the way his hand cradled my face, like I was something worth holding onto.
When we finally pulled apart, the porch lights had flickered on, casting everything in a soft golden glow. I opened my eyes to find him watching me, no walls, no distance. Just him and I.
I smiled, unable to stop myself. “That didn’t feel bad either.”
His quiet laugh joined the chorus of cicadas. “No. It didn’t.”
And as I sat there with him, the warm night wrapped around us, I realized something I hadn’t let myself believe in years.
I could fall.
And maybe, just maybe, I would be caught.