“You figure it out,” she said. Then, softer, “She’s been carrying a lot, Seth. More than she lets on. Just… be there.”
The line clicked dead before I could respond.
I set the phone down and stared at the empty counter.Be there.
Those two words were heavier than they should’ve been. I knew how to be a problem solver. Fix a roof, install drywall, balance a ledger. But being there for someone? That was a whole different story. That meant opening up in ways I didn’t feel comfortable doing anymore.
Still, when I looked at the guesthouse again, I couldn’t shake Blair’s words. Madison deserved more than quiet sympathy and a roof over her head. She deserved a kind gesture, something that reminded her she wasn’t carrying everything alone.
I pulled open the fridge. A pack of chicken breasts. Fresh herbs from the planter on the porch. Vegetables I’d bought out of habitand barely touched. My hands moved almost automatically, setting everything out on the counter. I wasn’t a chef, but I could follow a recipe.
I pictured Madison walking into the main house, suspicious at first, maybe even a little annoyed. But then the smell of garlic and rosemary would hit her, and her guard might soften, just enough for her to sit down and breathe.
I wanted to see that. I wanted to give her a moment where she didn’t have to think about adjusters and storm damage, and what came next.
As I trimmed the chicken and set the skillet on the stove, I realized something that made my chest tighten.
I wasn’t just doing this for Olive anymore.
I was doing it for Madison.
And that scared me more than any storm ever had.
Chapter 25
Madison
When Blair texted me that Olive was already in pajamas at her place and busy helping Greyson build a fort out of couch cushions, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Relief washed through me; my daughter was safe, happy, wrapped up in the kind of cozy chaos she loved. But underneath that, panic stirred. A night without Olive meant a night alone with my thoughts. And lately, those had been anything but kind.
I lingered in the guesthouse, folding laundry that didn’t need folding, wiping down the counter until it gleamed. Finally, with nothing left to fuss over, I slipped on sandals and stepped out into the dusky evening.
The path to the main house felt longer than it should have. I told myself I was only going over to thank Seth for letting Olive stay, maybe grab the insurance paperwork he’d been working on. But the second I opened the door, my resolve wavered.
The smell hit me first. Garlic. Rosemary. Something savory and warm that made my stomach twist in both hunger and confusion.
In the kitchen, Seth stood at the stove, a skillet sizzling under his hand. His sleeves were shoved up, his forearms dusted with flour, a dishtowel tossed carelessly over one shoulder. He looked so unlike the man who barked orders at work sites that I froze in the doorway, uncertain what to make of it.
“What… what is this?” I asked finally.
He glanced over, meeting my eyes with that steady look of his, like he wasn’t fazed at all by my shock. “Dinner.”
“For me?”
“For both of us.” He flipped a piece of chicken, the aroma deepening, filling the space between us. “Blair’s got Olive for the night. Thought you could use a break.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, more out of self-defense than anything. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.” He didn’t look away from the skillet. “I wanted to.”
The simple honesty of it caught me off guard. No edge, no teasing, no gruff sarcasm. Just a quiet truth.
I sat down at the island because my legs didn’t know what else to do. My eyes wandered over the table he’d set, two plates, silverware lined up neatly, a bottle of wine uncorked and breathing. It was thoughtful in a way that made me nervous.
He plated the food: rosemary chicken, roasted vegetables, and crusty bread that looked like it had actually been baked today, and slid a dish in front of me. “Hope you’re hungry.”
I stared down at the plate, then back up at him. “Seth, why are you doing this?”
He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms, but his gaze was steady. “Because you’ve had a hell of a week. Because you deserve a night where you’re not the one holding everything together.”
