Chapter 50
Seth
The cicadas were loud tonight, their steady drone wrapping around the property like a living wall of sound.
The porch steps beneath me were warm from the day’s sun, though the air had cooled enough that the breeze carried a hint of relief.
I sat with a glass of water sweating against my palm, staring at the faint glow of the guest house windows.
I could hear Olive’s laughter drift through the open screen. Some cartoon played on the television, the muffled dialogue mixed with her giggles. It was a sound I’d grown used to, so much so that the idea of silence returning to this yard made my chest ache.
For months, they’d been here. At first, it was temporary, a favor, a safe place while repairs were made. But over time, it had shifted into something else entirely. Olive’s crayons on my kitchen counter, Madison’s shoes by the door, dinners that filled the house with laughter instead of an echo.
And me. Different. Lighter.
The screen door opened, hinges creaking, and Madison stepped outside with two glasses of iced tea in her hands.
She wore jeans and one of those soft cotton blouses that looked like it belonged to summer itself.
Her hair was loose, brushing her shoulders, a little messy from the day.
She handed me a glass, her fingers brushing mine deliberately, before settling on the step beside me.
“Olive’s glued to the TV,” she said, smiling faintly. “I told her she could watch one episode before bed, but she’s bargaining for two.”
I chuckled, taking a sip. “She’s a negotiator. She’ll wear you down.”
“She already has,” Madison admitted, her laugh soft and low. She leaned back on her hands, her shoulder brushing mine. She didn’t move away, and neither did I.
For a while, we sat like that, taking in the quiet. The cicadas droned, the night smelled faintly of cut grass and the rosemary I’d planted along the porch steps, and her knee pressed lightly into mine. That small contact was enough to make my heart beat harder than it should have.
She broke the silence first. “I went by the house again today.”
I turned my head slightly. “And?”
“It looks good. The paint’s fresh, the roof is solid, everything’s clean and fixed.” She paused, her voice dropping lower. “But it doesn’t feel like it used to, Seth. I walked through every room waiting for that sense of home, and it wasn’t there. It was just… walls.”
The quiet that followed was thick, pressing against both of us.
“Madison,” I said slowly, setting my glass down. “You don’t have to force it. Home isn’t always the place you expect it to be.”
Her eyes met mine, sharp and searching, and I felt the pull of everything I hadn’t said. For weeks, I’d kept it inside, convincing myself it was too soon, that asking her to stay would be selfish. But the words were burning now, heavy on my tongue, and I couldn’t hold them back anymore.
“Don’t move back,” I said. My voice came out rough, but steady.
Her lips parted. “What?”
“Don’t move back into that house. Stay here. With me.”
She blinked, startled, and I pressed on before fear could take the words away.
“Not just until you figure things out. Not just because it’s easier. Stay because this feels right. Because it is right. These last few months… having you and Olive here has changed everything for me
. I don’t want to go back to the way things were. I don’t want the silence again. I want you here. Every night. Every morning. For as long as you’ll let me have you.”
Her breath hitched. Her glass trembled in her hands before she set it aside. When she turned fully toward me, her knees brushed mine, her eyes shining in the porch light.
“You’re serious,” she whispered.
“I’ve never been more serious,” I said.
She studied me for a long moment, and then she reached for my hand, threading her fingers between mine. Her touch was firm, certain.
“I was so scared,” she admitted, her voice catching. “I kept telling myself this was temporary, that I couldn’t get attached. But I already have. Olive has. This place, this life with you, feels more like home than my house ever did.”
Relief surged through me so sharply it nearly stole my breath. I lifted her hand to my lips, kissing her knuckles. “Then don’t leave.”
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, but she was smiling. “Okay.”
I didn’t wait. I leaned in and kissed her, slow and deep, tasting the sweetness of tea and the salt of her tears. Her hands slid to my shoulders, anchoring me, pulling me closer. Months of quiet touches and unspoken words poured into that kiss, not just desire, but promise.
She broke away only long enough to murmur against my mouth, “We’ll tell Olive tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” I whispered, resting my forehead against hers.
The glow of the guesthouse flickered across the yard, and Olive’s voice rose faintly, calling out for her mom. Madison laughed softly, pressing her lips to mine once more before pulling back.
As she slipped inside, her laughter trailing behind her, I stayed on the porch, heart pounding. For the first time in years, the future didn’t feel like something I had to control or guard against.
It felt like something I could finally hold on to.