Chapter 36
The air still carries winter’s edge, but the sun is warm on my face as we walk.
March has arrived without fanfare, just a quiet thaw that turns the ground soft beneath my boots.
Madison walks beside me, her hand tucked into mine, her belly more prominent every day in a way that makes my chest tighten every time I look at her.
Ian and another member of his team trail behind us at a respectful distance.
I hate it with every fiber of my being, hate that their presence is a constant reminder of the danger Madison’s in simply by being with me.
But that didn’t stop me from asking Ian to stay in Stonebridge Hollow while I’m on tour.
Knowing he’s here keeping her safe is the only thing that makes leaving possible.
I haven’t told her yet—haven’t found the right words. And now I’ve run out of time to look for them. I leave tomorrow.
We crest a small rise and Madison slows her pace. She’s been quieter than usual today and it’s easy to guess why. It’s the same reason my grip on her hand is tighter than normal.
There’s still so much unsaid between us, so many futures we haven’t named.
I’ve been waiting for her to bring it up, as if her silence means she’s still deciding whether she wants me in her life permanently, whether she’s ready to trust that I mean what I’ve said.
But I’ve been just as silent—just as careful—and that’s on me.
I’ve been treating this like something fragile that might break if we name it, when what I should’ve been doing is building something solid enough to hold us both.
When this tour is over, I still need to record a new album. The songs are finished—finally, after weeks of stolen hours and late nights. More than that, I need her and the baby to be part of whatever comes next. I need them to be the center of it.
“Beckett.” Madison tugs on my hand, stopping me. “You okay?”
Her words snap me back to the moment and I realize my eyes have been glued to a structure I’ve never noticed.
Through a stand of bare trees, half-hidden by overgrowth, sits a small cabin.
It’s weathered gray, the roof sagging slightly, but the stone foundation looks solid.
Something about it tugs at my memory, the shape of it familiar in a way I can’t place.
Then it hits me—it looks like Millie’s Cottage.
The cottage I haven’t slept in for six weeks, the one I packed up Friday afternoon while Madison was at work.
The bags stacked by the front door, ready to be loaded into my 4Runner tomorrow for my journey back to the city.
Or maybe—hopefully—to move across a driveway and into a new home.
“What’s that?” I ask, gesturing to the building.
Madison follows my gaze, her eyes sparking in excitement when she finds it.
“Charlie’s Cabin. Another old house built by a Hawthorne of the past, roughly a hundred years after your cottage.
” She smiles, but it’s tinged with something wistful.
“I was planning on renovating, same as the others. But then…” She trails off, one hand moving unconsciously to her stomach. “Other things became more important.”
I look over my shoulder and realize we really aren’t far from Madison’s house at all, maybe a hundred yards. “You still thinking about making it guest accommodations?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know what else I’d do with it. It’s too far from the main house to be convenient for staff quarters, and in a weird spot to make it a long-term rental. Honestly, I try not to think about it. It’s another project I don’t have time for.”
I study the cabin more carefully. It’s not much smaller than the cottage, and I can see from here that the bones are good.
Made of solid stone, decent proportions, and something else.
The way it’s tucked into the hillside, the way the trees would buffer sound.
I think about the solitude of it, the peace this land brings to me, the way the space could be mine.
Become a place I could work and record without leaving, without being gone for months on end.
“What would it take?” I ask. “To fix it up?”
Madison blinks, surprised by the question. “I haven’t been inside, but it’d definitely need a new roof and windows. The plumbing and electrical probably need to be updated.” She tilts her head, studying me. “Why?”
I don’t answer her, still turning it over in my head, the possibility of what it could become. Instead, I focus on the step that has to happen before that cabin could ever be what I’m picturing.
I grab her hands, turning her to face me. Her eyes widen slightly and I wonder what she sees on my face. My heart beats so hard I feel like it might fly out of my chest.
“What do you want?” My voice comes out rougher than I intend, but I can’t change it, not right now.
She stares at me and I watch her throat work as she swallows. “I don’t—I don’t know what you mean.”
“During the tour. After.” I search her face, looking for some sign of what she’s thinking, what she’s hoping for. “What do you want our future to look like?”
The question hangs between us and she bites her lip. I can see her mind racing, weighing her answer, and maybe trying to guess what she thinks I want to hear.
“Don’t think about it,” I say softer, squeezing her hands in mine. “Just say the first thing that comes to mind. What do you want?” I whisper.
She looks at me for a long moment, the March wind stirring her hair. When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper. “I want us to be together. That’s the only thing I know for sure.” She pauses, her eyes filling with what I hope is love. “I just…I want us to be together.”
The words hit me like a chord finally hitting its mark, like the final note of a song I’ve been trying to write for months.
“Three months yesterday,” I whisper.
Her brows pinch and she shakes her head, like she’s trying to understand. “What?”
“Yesterday makes three months.”
I see the moment it clicks. Her mouth opens and closes, a tear slipping out the corner of her eye. “You’ve been counting?”
“Madison.” I pull her close, close enough to feel the warmth of her and the slight pressure of her belly between us. “Everything changed the moment I met you. Of course I’ve been counting.”
I feel her heart beating through her sweater, fast and hard. I need her to understand. I need to say this right.
“I want to be there when he’s born.” I rest my hand on her stomach feeling the solid curve of it.
“I want to help raise him. I need to be a part of your lives in a permanent way. I need you both to be a part of mine.” I take a breath, forcing myself to take a second and gather my thoughts.
“I want Stonebridge Hollow—you—to be my landing place. My home.”
Her eyes shine with more tears as they slip free down her cheeks.
“I’ve already told Aaron and the label,” I continue.
“I’m slowing down after this tour. After recording the new album, I’m taking a step back.
I won’t tour it and I won’t jump into writing another one right away.
Whatever my future holds, it has to include you and the little nugget.
” I squeeze her hand, needing to make sure she hears the next words.
“I love you, Madison Hawthorne. I am so incredibly in love with you.”
The tears track down her cheeks, not slowing down, but it doesn’t stop her. “I love you too,” she whispers. “Beckett, I love you too,” she repeats on a laugh, the sound watery and bright. “Everything you said…it sounds like everything I want, but was too scared to hope for.”
I crash my lips onto hers, my hands framing her face. She tastes like salt and coffee and everything I never knew I wanted.
Madison grips my wrists and I pull back to meet her eyes, still bright with tears. “I need you to know I’d go with you if I could. I’d be by your side for the tour and the album, nothing would keep me away. It’s only because of—”
“I know.” I brush the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs. “You need to be here, close to your doctor. Keeping you and Nugget safe is all that matters right now. Besides, there’ll be more tours in the future, and you two will be there for those.”
She laughs, nodding her head. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
“Ditto.” I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight, feeling the shape of her changing body fit against mine. “But we’ll talk every day. And I expect FaceTime calls at every appointment so I don’t miss anything.”
“As long as you know the camera will probably be aimed at my stomach the entire time and I won’t remember to talk.”
“That sounds perfect to me,” I whisper.
My eyes catch sight of Ian and Zach in the distance, and I remember there’s still one more thing I need to tell her about. Pulling back just enough to see her face, I smooth a wayward piece of hair from her face and meet her eyes.
“One more thing. Ian’s going to stay here with you.”
“No—”
“Yes,” I interrupt. “Until we catch the stalker.”
I don’t tell her about my nightmares, the ones where I come home to find her hurt and the baby gone. I don’t tell her about the way my hands shake when I think about that broken doll, the photo, or just how close this person has already gotten. But I can feel the fear coiling in my gut.
“I’m not saying no to security, I’m saying Ian should be with you and someone else can stay here.”
“Please, Madison,” I plead. “Keeping you and Nugget safe is the most important thing. Ian stays with you. The rest of the team is more than qualified for their jobs. They’ll keep me perfectly safe.”
She studies my face, searching for something. Finally, she exhales and offers me a small nod. “If Ian staying here will make you feel better, then I won’t fight it. But you have to promise me you’ll be careful.”
“That’s an easy promise. Nothing could keep me from coming home to you.”
I pull her back into my arms, holding her—memorizing the feel of her and the way she fits against me. The small swell of her belly between us, the smell of her hair. Every single thing I can catalogue about this moment and this woman.
Over her shoulder, I see Charlie’s Cabin through the trees. Solid stone, good bones, the right kind of isolation.
“What do you think about turning Charlie’s Cabin into a recording studio?” I ask softly.
Madison springs back, her eyes wide. Her eyes bounce between me and the cabin, fresh tears welling up as a smile stretches across her lips. “Beckett…”
“Nothing fancy. Just a simple space I can work and record so I can be here, with the two of you,” I say, resting a hand back on her belly.
She looks at the cabin again, studying it intently, and I can see her mind working—measuring the possibilities. When she turns back to me her smile is radiant, transforming her entire face.
“I love that idea,” she says, the tears spilling over again, but she’s laughing too. “I absolutely love that idea.”
I pull her close once more, feeling something settle inside me, the future taking shape—a home.
Tomorrow I’ll leave for tour, but for the first time in almost twenty years, I know exactly what I’m coming back to: her, the baby, and a place to call my own.