“Is Uncle Seth gonna fix it?” Olive asked, eyes wide and hopeful.
My lips twitched despite myself. Uncle Seth. I hadn’t seen that one coming. And the way Seth froze in the kitchen when she said it earlier, yeah, he hadn’t either.
“I guess so,” I said finally, brushing a curl from Olive’s cheek. “That’s his job.”
Olive nodded solemnly, like she’d just solved a great mystery. Then she climbed onto the twin bed and bounced. “This bed is bouncy! Can I jump on it, Mommy?”
Before I could answer, Seth’s voice carried down the hall. “No jumping on the bed, kiddo. I don’t need broken furniture on top of storm damage.”
Olive giggled, collapsing into the pillows. “Okay!”
I shot him a look as I stepped into the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone with a frown. The morning light slanted through the wide windows, catching on his broad shoulders and the sharp lines of his jaw. He looked the same as always, confident, composed, like nothing ever rattled him. But his thumb tapped restlessly against the screen, betraying the stress he was probably trying to bury.
“You didn’t have to let us stay here,” I said quietly, though the words came out more defensive than grateful.
Seth lifted his gaze to mine. “I didn’t exactly volunteer. Blair guilt-tripped me.”
I rolled my eyes. “That sounds about right.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his face before he pushed his phone into his pocket. “But Olive seems happy. That counts for something.”
The softness in his voice startled me. This was the same boy who used to steal my notebooks in high school and doodle stick figures across my math homework? The same guy who teased me relentlessly for being a “drama queen” whenever I got upset? He wasn’t supposed to have that tone, quiet, steady, almost protective.
I busied myself unpacking a few essentials from the tote bag I’d brought: Olive’s pajamas, her toothbrush, and the small stack of books she insisted we carry everywhere. “We won’t be in your way,” I muttered, tucking the items into a cabinet.
“Madison,” he said, and there was something in his voice that made me pause. “It’s not about being in my way. It’s about making sure you both have somewhere safe to stay.”
I turned to him slowly. His eyes were steady, serious. For a heartbeat, the air between us shifted. Not hostile. Not tense. Just… weighted.
Then Olive came running down the hall again, clutching Bunny. “Mommy, can we read a story tonight? Uncle Seth can read too!”
Seth’s brows shot up. I almost laughed at the way he looked, like a deer caught in headlights.
“Uh,” he started, clearly scrambling. “I don’t really do story time.”
Olive’s pout appeared instantly, her secret weapon. “Please?”
I smothered a grin and shrugged. “Looks like you’re drafted.”
Seth shot me a glare, but Olive squealed and wrapped her little arms around his leg. “Yay! You can do the voices.”
Voices. Oh, I couldn’t wait to see this.
Watching him stand there, this big-shot architect with all his polish and control, while my four-year-old wrapped him neatly around her tiny finger… Well, it was a sight I wouldn’t forget anytime soon.
And for the first time since the storm ripped through town, I felt something strange flicker inside me. Something dangerously close to hope.
Chapter 12
Madison
Olive was asleep within minutes, curled up with Bunny under the quilt I’d spread across her bed. I sat at the edge for a while, brushing her curls back from her forehead, letting the soft sound of her breathing ground me. She was adjusting faster than I was, of course. Kids were resilient like that. I wished I could borrow some of it.
When I finally slipped out of her room, the guesthouse was quiet. Too quiet. My own house, even when it was messy or cramped, had always felt lived-in, sticky fingerprints on the fridge, toys spilling out of bins, the faint smell of lavender detergent clinging to everything. This place felt… sterile. Perfect. Like a model home no one actually lived in.
I padded into the little living room and sank into the couch, tucking my knees to my chest. My whole body ached from exhaustion, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing.
Storm damage. Insurance claims. Repairs. Work. Worry about Olive. And now… Seth.
