Blair’s eyes softened in that way only a best friend could manage, equal parts empathy and knowing amusement. “You sound shocked. He’s always had a soft spot for kids. He used to sneak you cookies when Mom told him no.”
“That was different,” I argued, but my chest squeezed anyway. “This is Olive. She doesn’t need to get attached to someone who might not stick around.”
Blair set her cup down and touched my hand. “Maddie, he’s already sticking. He’s here. He’s not running off to some city. This is his home now.”
I looked away, throat tight. It was easier to scrub at invisible crumbs than admit she was right.
The bell over the door jingled, and Evie called a cheerful goodbye to one of the last regulars. The shop fell into a hush that was almost too comfortable. Olive hummed a tune, crayonsclattering across the table, the kind of simple, ordinary sound that made everything else blur for a moment.
I wanted more of this. Stability. Ease. A place where Olive could giggle with muffin crumbs on her face, and I didn’t feel like the walls were closing in.
But now, Seth had crashed into that picture, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t untangle him from it.
“Hey,” Blair said softly, nudging my arm. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. Just… breathe. Take it one day at a time.”
One day at a time.
It sounded so simple.
Olive hopped off her chair and bounded to the counter, thrusting her drawing into Blair’s hands. “Look! Uncle Seth helped Bunny fix our house!”
My cheeks flamed. Blair, of course, laughed. “That’s beautiful, sweet pea.”
I pressed my palms against the counter, exhaling slowly. Seth might’ve walked out of the shop with his grumpy frown and his too-broad shoulders, but he hadn’t left me. Not really. He was still here, lingering in the edges of my thoughts, in the curve of Olive’s smile, and in the memory of that reluctant grin when she called him uncle.
And that terrified me more than the storm ever had.
Chapter 18
Seth
The sun was high over Oak Street, beating down on the tarps and ladders scattered across town. My crew hammered shingles into place, shouted building material orders from one to the other, while I stood on the curb with my clipboard, pretending the noise in my head wasn’t louder than all of it.
Uncle Seth.
Olive’s little voice still rang in my ears. Light. Certain. Sweet in a way that cut deeper than I expected.
I shouldn’t have smiled. Shouldn’t have let it hit me the way it did. But I had. And now the weight of it sat square in my chest.
I wasn’t built for that kind of role. Not anymore.
There was a time when I thought I was. A time when I’d believed in big gestures and promises. When I’d been stupid enough to think love could hold steady, and the possibility of starting my own family.
I was twenty-two, fresh out of school, already drawing plans for my first big project when I met her. Claire. Golden hair, quick laugh, the kind of smile that made you think the world wasn’t such a hard place after all. I thought she was it. The one. I planned a future with her, rings, kids, a house with the porch swing that she’d always wanted.
And then, just like that, she was gone. No warning. Like the five years that we spent together meant nothing to her.
A job offer in Chicago. A new circle of friends. A fiancé six months later that wasn’t me. I got the news through a damn Christmas card. Her in a red dress, her new man’s hand on her stomach like he already owned every part of the life I’d once imagined for us.
That was the day I decided I wouldn’t let another woman in again. Not the fool that believed someone would be faithful when they told you they loved you.
So I built walls instead of a home for myself. Blueprints became my closest companion, and work filled the emptiness that I felt. If I kept busy enough, if I stayed sharp, gruff, and untouchable, no one could get close enough to hurt me again.
And it worked. For years.
Until Madison Cole showed up on my porch with her sharp tongue and stubborn eyes. Along with her little girl, who lookedat me like I was steady ground instead of the mess I knew myself to be.
Olive didn’t know the rules. She didn’t know that I’d locked those doors tightly years ago. She didn’t know that calling meUncle Sethin a crowded coffee shop was like trying to find the key to unlocking my heart.
