Chapter 48
Seth
The adjuster’s call should have been good news. Madison’s house, patched and painted, is almost ready for her to move back in. For weeks, I had told myself that was the goal. That this was temporary, a way to give her and Olive shelter until their own place was livable again.
But when she told me, her voice quiet and her smile brittle, I felt something drop heavy in my chest.
Good news. That was what I said. But the words tasted like sawdust.
That night, long after Madison had carried Olive to bed, I sat on the porch of the main house with a bottle of water sweating in my hand.
The cicadas sang in the dark, fireflies blinking across the grass, but none of it eased the knot in my chest. I stared at the guesthouse, its windows glowing faintly, the outline of curtains swaying in the warm breeze.
Inside, Madison was probably folding laundry, maybe brushing Olive’s hair back as she slept.
Inside was where they belonged, and for months, that had been here.
The thought of losing that made me restless in a way I couldn’t shake.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. Part of me wanted to walk across the yard, knock on her door, and just ask her outright. Stay. Move in. Not just until your house is ready, for good.
But what right did I have to ask that? It had only been a handful of months. We had kissed, touched, shared quiet nights, yes. We had become something real. But was it too soon? Madison had been through enough. She needed steady ground, not someone rushing her into another leap.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. My instincts pulled me in two directions, one voice warning me not to push, the other whispering that if I didn’t, I might lose her.
By the time I finally went inside, I hadn’t decided anything. All I knew was this: the thought of watching Madison and Olive walk back into that empty house without me felt like standing on the wrong side of a door I wasn’t allowed to open.
Two days later, the decision was made for me.
The sky was washed in pale blue when Madison knocked on my office door. She wore jeans and a loose blouse, her hair tucked behind her ears. Olive clutched her hand, chattering about the butterflies they’d seen on the walk over.
“They scheduled the walkthrough,” Madison said. Her tone was calm, but her eyes betrayed her. “They want me there this morning. Will you come?”
There was no hesitation in my answer. “Of course.”
The house looked different the moment we pulled up. Fresh paint covered the siding, crisp and clean against the morning light. The new roof gleamed with dark shingles, straight and even. From the curb, it looked like a place that had never been touched by wind or water.
But Madison’s hand tightened in mine as we walked up the path. Olive skipped ahead, Bunny under one arm, pointing out the bright red mailbox that the crew had replaced.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of plaster and new paint.
The floors had been sanded and resealed, shining under the light that streamed through freshly replaced windows.
A contractor shook our hands, rattling off details; insulation replaced, drywall patched, leaks sealed, foundation checked and cleared.
I nodded and asked questions about support beams and weatherproofing, but my attention kept sliding back to Madison.
She moved through each room slowly, her fingers trailing along the walls, her gaze lingering on the spaces that had once held damage.
I saw her swallow hard in the kitchen, where the ceiling had collapsed, now smooth and white again.
Olive darted down the hallway, squealing that her room “smelled like crayons again instead of rain.”
I hung back, giving Madison space, but the weight of it pressed into me too. This was her home. Her safe place. What I should have wanted was for her to move back in, to feel whole again.
But when she turned to me, her eyes bright with something I couldn’t name, I felt that ache return. She was supposed to be relieved. Instead, she looked… conflicted.
“It looks good,” I said quietly.
“It does.” Her voice was soft, almost wistful. She turned toward the window where Olive leaned, peering out at the street. “It feels different, though. I thought I’d walk in and feel like I could breathe again. But it doesn’t feel the same.”
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Homes don’t always come from four walls, Madison. Sometimes they come from people.”
She looked at me then, really looked, and I saw the flicker of understanding in her eyes.
Olive tugged on her sleeve, begging for a snack, and the moment broke. Madison promised they’d be done soon, her smile gentle but distant.
As we walked back out to the truck, I shoved my hands in my pockets and kept my mouth shut. The words burned at the back of my throat. Stay. Don’t leave. Move in with me.
But I didn’t say them. Not yet.
Because if this was going to happen, it couldn’t come from my fear of losing them. It had to come from both of us choosing it.
Still, as I glanced at Madison settling Olive into the backseat, the knot in my chest only pulled tighter.
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay quiet.