Chapter 36
Seth
The first thing I noticed when I stepped out onto the porch the next morning was the smell of coffee drifting across the yard. The second was the sound of Olive’s laughter floating through the summer air, sharp and clear like a bell.
She was crouched near the garden bed, her curls bouncing as she tilted her tiny watering can over the soil.
Madison knelt beside her in the grass, still in a loose T-shirt and shorts, hair pulled up, a mug cradled in her hands.
The sun was already warming the earth, and the light caught in the curve of her smile as she watched her daughter chatter to the flowers as if they could hear her.
For a moment, I just stood there. Watching.
It would have been easy to convince myself that last night hadn’t happened, that the kiss was some dream spun out of exhaustion and summer heat.
But the memory of it lingered sharp and undeniable, the taste of iced tea between us, the softness of her lips, the way she leaned into me like she had chosen to.
And now, looking at her this morning, with Olive at her side, I felt something dangerous stirring in me. Want. Not just the fleeting kind, but the kind that whispered of permanence, of roots.
Olive spotted me first. “Uncle Seth! The flowers are eating breakfast!” She waved the watering can like it was a prize.
I made my way down the steps, forcing my feet to move when all I wanted was to stay rooted to the spot. “Looks like you’re taking good care of them,” I said, crouching beside her.
“They were thirsty,” she said solemnly, then tipped the can again until water splashed across my shoe. She giggled, covering her mouth with both hands.
I rolled my eyes in mock defeat. “Guess I should have worn boots.”
Madison’s laugh joined hers, low and warm, and I found myself looking at her instead of the garden.
Her cheeks were pink from the sun, and there was no trace of guardedness in her expression.
Just ease. For the first time, I let myself really take it in, the sight of her here, on my land, in my morning. It felt… right.
“Coffee?” she asked, holding out her mug. “There’s more inside.”
I took it, careful not to let my fingers brush hers, though part of me wanted to. The steam curled up between us, carrying the scent of hazelnut. “Thanks.”
For a while, we stayed like that. Olive humming as she poked at the dirt, Madison sipping her coffee, and me trying to make sense of the tightness in my chest.
I wasn’t used to this. To company that didn’t feel like an intrusion. To mornings that didn’t feel like obligations. To the idea that maybe letting people in wasn’t a weakness but something else entirely.
When Olive finally darted off toward the porch, announcing she needed pancakes immediately, Madison stood too. She hesitated, her eyes meeting mine. There was a question there, unspoken, but I knew what it was.
Last night hadn’t been an accident. And neither of us regretted it.
I nodded once, steady, hoping she could read everything I couldn’t yet say out loud.
Her lips curved faintly, and she turned toward the guest house, following Olive inside.
I stayed where I was, staring at the garden bed we had planted together.