Seth
The fairground dust still clung to my boots when I dropped them by the door, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. My shoulders ached from carrying Olive half the day, but even that ache felt different, lighter somehow. Like I’d been carrying something that mattered.
The house was quiet again, as it always was, but tonight, the silence didn’t feel as sharp. It felt filled, echoing with memoriesthat didn’t belong to these walls but had taken root anyway. Olive’s laughter on the Ferris wheel. Madison’s voice, soft with wonder when she looked out at the town. Her hand brushing against mine in the crowd, quick but enough to make my pulse stumble.
I dropped onto the couch, elbows on my knees, and exhaled.
I didn’t know how to do this.
For years, I’d built a reputation on being steady, reliable, unshakable. The man who didn’t flinch at storms or setbacks. And maybe that was true on the outside. But inside? I’d trained myself to keep everyone at arm’s length. If nobody got too close, nobody could see the cracks.
But today, hell, today Olive had climbed right over those walls without even trying. She looked at me with absolute trust, calling me Uncle Seth like it was the most natural thing in the world. And instead of pushing it away, I found myself leaning into it. Carrying her bear. Buying her ice cream. Letting her tug me from booth to booth like I’d been part of her little world forever.
And Madison…
I’d expected her to stay guarded, to keep me at arm’s length the way she always had. But on that Ferris wheel, when she finally loosened her grip on the rail and let herself breathe, I saw something shift in her. Something softer. Something that made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t want to name.
The truth was simple: I wanted to be the man she saw glimpses of today. The one who could make Olive laugh, who could give her a night where the weight wasn’t all on her shoulders.
But wanting that was dangerous because I didn’t know if I could keep it up. Letting someone in meant letting them see the parts of me I’d buried. The doubts, the insecurities, the fear that I wasn’t enough once people saw past the surface. Madison had been through her own storms, she didn’t need mine.
I leaned back, running a hand over my face. I couldn’t deny it anymore: I was lowering my walls. Not all at once, not in some dramatic way. But piece by piece, brick by brick, Madison and Olive were dismantling what I’d spent years building. And the scariest part? A part of me wanted them to.
Chapter 31
Madison
Sunday mornings usually meant grocery lists, laundry, maybe bribing Olive with muffins so she’d sit still long enough for me to tackle bills. But this one was different.
Olive sat at the little table by the window, crayons scattered like confetti, humming to herself while Bunny rested beside her. She was drawing again, this time, Seth holding a hammer twicehis size with Bunny perched on the roof. Every so often, she’d glance up at me, grinning, then return to her masterpiece.
I should have been paying attention to the stack of mail I’d spread across the counter, but my mind wasn’t on utility bills or overdue notices. It kept drifting back to yesterday.
The Ferris wheel swaying high above Wisteria Creek. The warmth of Seth’s arm brushing mine as Olive squealed at the view. His mouth twitched into something that almost looked like a smile when Olive called him Uncle Seth. The pink bear tucked under his arm like it wasn’t ridiculous at all.
I’d seen glimpses of a different Seth. Not the gruff architect who barked at his crew, not the man who always seemed half a step removed from everyone else. Yesterday, I’d seen a version of him who laughed, who softened, who leaned in close and made me feel, if only for a moment, like the world wasn’t so heavy.
And that unsettled me more than anything.
A knock rattled the door before I could spiral further. Olive bolted from her chair, Bunny in hand. “Aunt Blair!”
Blair stepped inside, balancing a bag of muffins like she was arriving for brunch rather than an ambush. “Morning, girls,” she said cheerfully.
Olive threw herself at her, words spilling out so fast they tangled. “We went to the fair! Uncle Seth won me a bear! He carried me on his shoulders! We had ice cream and rides and…”
Blair laughed, smoothing Olive’s curls. “Sounds like someone had the best day.”
“She did,” I muttered, taking the bag of muffins and busying myself at the counter. Anything to avoid the look I knew was coming.
Sure enough, Blair leaned against the counter, arms folded, one brow raised. “And how about you? Did you have the best day?”
I shot her a glare, but it didn’t faze her. It never did. “It was fine.”
“Fine,” she repeated, drawing the word out. “That’s all you’ve got?”
I sighed, tearing the muffin bag open a little too aggressively. “Olive had fun. That’s what matters.”
Blair reached for a muffin, tore it in half, and studied me like I was one of her puzzles she was determined to solve. “You can’t tell me nothing shifted yesterday, Maddie. Because I can see it on your face.”
