On the path home, Olive reached for my hand and skipped in three-count bursts. The sky had turned the color of faded denim. Dragonflies floated over the water in the ditch. When the guesthouse came into view, I noticed the ladder against the back window and the curl of wood shavings on the sill. Seth’s truck sat in its usual spot, the door to the main house open to the screen.
Inside our kitchen, I poured water for the kettle and set the books in a neat stack. Olive climbed onto a chair and opened the one about the dog, sound effects already queued in her chest. Through the window, I watched Seth measure the window track with a worn tape and pencil a note onto a scrap of cardboard. He worked with an ease that made the smallest job feel worthy of his hands.
I realized then what had been humming under the surface all morning. I was not waiting for the ground to tilt anymore. I was not bracing for the next sharp thing. The future did not feel like a cliff or a maze. It felt like a path I could actually see, wide enough for the three of us to walk side by side.
Olive thumped the table with the book to reenact a skateboard trick. I laughed and joined her, one page for her, one page for me. When the kettle sang, we took our tea to the porch and settled in the shade. Seth rounded the corner a few minutes later with a soft cloth and a small can of WD-40, evidence of repair under his nails. He looked at us the way people look at a home they have been away from too long.
“The window is all fixed now,” he said as he wiped his hands.
“Thank you,” I answered. It meant more than an odd job. He knew it. I knew it.
Olive held up the book. “Does the dog go fast?” she asked him.
“Fast enough,” he said, and he sat on the step below us to listen while she read her favorite lines in a careful, dramatic voice.
I watched them, sunlight dappled on his shoulder, a smear of graphite along one knuckle, my daughter leaning into each word like it was an adventure she could step into. My heart did not clench. It opened. It made room and then kept making room. Olive eventually curled against my side and went quiet. The heat thickened, and the cicadas took back the song. Seth looked up at me, and the same conversation from earlier passed between us without words. Not labels. Not a rush. Only a decision to keep showing up.
“I want this,” I said, barely louder than the leaves.
“I do too,” he answered, just as quietly.
That was all. Enough and everything.
Chapter 46
Seth
The morning sun was already hot enough to burn the dew from the grass by the time I walked across the yard with a fresh cup of coffee. Madison stood on the porch of the guesthouse, tugging Olive’s hair into a loose braid while she squirmed and complained that the flowers would miss her if she didn’t say goodbye.
“They’ll survive a few hours without you, O,” I teased, setting my coffee on the railing.
Olive scowled, her little hands clutching her plastic watering can. “They like me better than you.”
Madison’s laugh bubbled out before she smoothed Olive’s braid. “She might not be wrong.”
I shook my head, grinning despite myself. “Guess I’ll have to earn their approval back.”
Madison tied off the braid with a pink elastic and brushed Olive’s shoulder. “Go grab your shoes. We’ll be late for Evie.”
Olive darted inside, leaving the two of us alone in the golden light. Madison looked down at me from the porch, her hair twisted up in a knot, the soft curve of her mouth still carrying last night’s kiss. My chest tightened in a way I was still getting used to.
“Big day?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Site inspections, more paperwork, and a meeting with the adjuster. Nothing exciting,” I said. “Half the town’s roofs still need repairing. I’m juggling crews and blueprints until my brain’s fried.”
Her brow furrowed slightly, sympathy flickering in her expression. “You’ll make it better. You always do.”
The certainty in her voice startled me. Not many people said things like that to me, not with such conviction. I swallowed past the tightness in my throat. “What about you?”
“Evie’s got me on a double shift, but Olive loves helping behind the counter. She’ll be fine.” Her smile softened. “You’ll be fine too.”
Before I could answer, Olive came bounding back out, Bunny under one arm, sneakers on the wrong feet. “Ready!”
I bent to fix her laces. “You’re gonna trip in these.”
She wiggled, impatient. “Hurry, Uncle Seth. Mommy has to work.”
I tied the bow, ruffled her hair, and stood. Madison glanced at me once more before leading Olive down the path. “Dinner tonight?” she asked, her tone casual but her eyes holding mine.
