I thanked him, hung up, and stared at the phone like it had betrayed me.
This was the call I had been waiting for since the storm. The moment of relief I thought would make me breathe easier. Instead, my chest tightened. The guesthouse was small,temporary, borrowed, but it had become something else in the span of a week.
I glanced around the space. Olive’s drawings were taped to the refrigerator. Her stuffed Bunny sat propped in the corner of the couch. My books were stacked neatly on the side table where Seth had left them after I fell asleep reading. The scent of coffee and lavender clung to the air, mingled with something faintly him.
The thought of leaving made my stomach twist.
Olive’s voice floated in from outside, high and bright. “Uncle Seth, look! The sunflowers are taller today!”
I stepped to the window, watching them in the yard. Olive balanced on tiptoe, pointing proudly at the row of shoots while Seth crouched beside her, nodding like she was unveiling a masterpiece. His hair was pushed back with one hand, and there was dirt under his nails again, proof that he had been working all morning.
Something ached deep inside me. This was supposed to be temporary. A roof over our heads while repairs were done. Nothing more. But the thought of taking Olive back to our house, of leaving this rhythm, this laughter, this warmth, felt like losing something I hadn’t realized I’d been searching for.
When the screen door creaked open a few minutes later, Seth stepped inside, wiping his hands on a rag. “Everything okay? I heard you on the phone.”
I forced a smile, but it felt thin. “That was the adjuster. They’re almost done. We should be able to move back in next week.”
He froze just slightly, then nodded. “That’s… good news.”
It was good news. It should have been. But neither of us smiled the way we should have.
I turned back to the laundry, blinking hard. For the first time in years, I had a home waiting for me, fixed and whole. And for the first time in years, I wasn’t sure that was the home I wanted.
Chapter 48
Seth
The adjuster’s call should have been good news. Madison’s house, patched and painted, is almost ready for her to move back in. For weeks, I had told myself that was the goal. That this was temporary, a way to give her and Olive shelter until their own place was livable again.
But when she told me, her voice quiet and her smile brittle, I felt something drop heavy in my chest.
Good news. That was what I said. But the words tasted like sawdust.
That night, long after Madison had carried Olive to bed, I sat on the porch of the main house with a bottle of water sweating in my hand. The cicadas sang in the dark, fireflies blinking across the grass, but none of it eased the knot in my chest. I stared at the guesthouse, its windows glowing faintly, the outline of curtains swaying in the warm breeze. Inside, Madison was probably folding laundry, maybe brushing Olive’s hair back as she slept. Inside was where they belonged, and for months, that had been here.
The thought of losing that made me restless in a way I couldn’t shake.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. Part of me wanted to walk across the yard, knock on her door, and just ask her outright.Stay. Move in. Not just until your house is ready, for good.
But what right did I have to ask that? It had only been a handful of months. We had kissed, touched, shared quiet nights, yes. We had become something real. But was it too soon? Madison had been through enough. She needed steady ground, not someone rushing her into another leap.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. My instincts pulled me in two directions, one voice warning me not to push, the other whispering that if I didn’t, I might lose her.
By the time I finally went inside, I hadn’t decided anything. All I knew was this: the thought of watching Madison and Olive walk back into that empty house without me felt like standing on the wrong side of a door I wasn’t allowed to open.
Two days later, the decision was made for me.
The sky was washed in pale blue when Madison knocked on my office door. She wore jeans and a loose blouse, her hairtucked behind her ears. Olive clutched her hand, chattering about the butterflies they’d seen on the walk over.
“They scheduled the walkthrough,” Madison said. Her tone was calm, but her eyes betrayed her. “They want me there this morning. Will you come?”
There was no hesitation in my answer. “Of course.”
The house looked different the moment we pulled up. Fresh paint covered the siding, crisp and clean against the morning light. The new roof gleamed with dark shingles, straight and even. From the curb, it looked like a place that had never been touched by wind or water.
But Madison’s hand tightened in mine as we walked up the path. Olive skipped ahead, Bunny under one arm, pointing out the bright red mailbox that the crew had replaced.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of plaster and new paint. The floors had been sanded and resealed, shining under the light that streamed through freshly replaced windows. A contractor shook our hands, rattling off details; insulation replaced, drywall patched, leaks sealed, foundation checked and cleared. I nodded and asked questions about support beams and weatherproofing, but my attention kept sliding back to Madison.
