Page 102 of Three Months Yesterday

“I know you don’t want to, but you gotta call Ian. It’s time for his team to be here.” Aiden’s voice is firm, but understanding. “And have him bring some equipment to set up security. Unless you want to head back to the city early.”

“No,” I blurt, grabbing Beckett’s arm. “We have two more weeks.”

Beckett’s eyes come to mine, pain etched across his features. “If it’s safer⁠—”

“No,” I repeat. “You’re not leaving. We’ll do whatever Aiden and Ian decide, but you’re staying here.”

Beckett pulls me into his side, his arm wrapping tight around my shoulders. I feel the tension in his body, the fear radiating off him in waves. He kisses my temple, his lips linger against my skin, and I feel him slowly relax, breath by breath.

“We’ll catch this perp,” Aiden says, his voice cold and determined. “I promise.”

I nod against Beckett’s chest, not trusting my voice.

I know my brother will do everything in his power to keep that promise, and that’s what I’m going to hold on to. That, and the man holding me like his life depends on me being part of it.

The air still carries winter’s edge, but the sun is warm on my face as we walk. March has arrived without fanfare, just a quiet thaw that turns the ground soft beneath my boots. Madison walks beside me, her hand tucked into mine, her belly more prominent every day in a way that makes my chest tighten every time I look at her.

Ian and another member of his team trail behind us at a respectful distance. I hate it with every fiber of my being, hate that their presence is a constant reminder of the danger Madison’s in simply by being with me. But that didn’t stop me from asking Ian to stay in Stonebridge Hollow while I’m on tour. Knowing he’s here keeping her safe is the only thing that makes leaving possible.

I haven’t told her yet—haven’t found the right words. And now I’ve run out of time to look for them. I leave tomorrow.

We crest a small rise and Madison slows her pace. She’s been quieter than usual today and it’s easy to guess why. It’s the same reason my grip on her hand is tighter than normal.

There’s still so much unsaid between us, so many futures we haven’t named.

I’ve been waiting for her to bring it up, as if her silence means she’s still deciding whether she wants me in her life permanently, whether she’s ready to trust that I mean what I’ve said. But I’ve been just as silent—just as careful—and that’s on me. I’ve been treating this like something fragile that might break if we name it, when what I should’ve been doing is building something solid enough to hold us both.

When this tour is over, I still need to record a new album. The songs are finished—finally, after weeks of stolen hours and late nights. More than that, I need her and the baby to be part of whatever comes next. I need them to be the center of it.

“Beckett.” Madison tugs on my hand, stopping me. “You okay?”

Her words snap me back to the moment and I realize my eyes have been glued to a structure I’ve never noticed. Through a stand of bare trees, half-hidden by overgrowth, sits a small cabin. It’s weathered gray, the roof sagging slightly, but the stone foundation looks solid. Something about it tugs at my memory, the shape of it familiar in a way I can’t place.

Then it hits me—it looks like Millie’s Cottage. The cottage I haven’t slept in for six weeks, the one I packed up Friday afternoon while Madison was at work. The bags stacked by the front door, ready to be loaded into my 4Runner tomorrow for my journey back to the city. Or maybe—hopefully—to move across a driveway and into a new home.

“What’s that?” I ask, gesturing to the building.

Madison follows my gaze, her eyes sparking in excitement when she finds it. “Charlie’s Cabin. Another old house built by a Hawthorne of the past, roughly a hundred years after your cottage.” She smiles, but it’s tinged with something wistful. “I was planning on renovating, same as the others. But then…” She trails off, one hand moving unconsciously to her stomach. “Other things became more important.”

I look over my shoulder and realize we really aren’t far from Madison’s house at all, maybe a hundred yards. “You still thinking about making it guest accommodations?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know what else I’d do with it. It’s too far from the main house to be convenient for staff quarters, and in a weird spot to make it a long-term rental. Honestly, I try not to think about it. It’s another project I don’t have time for.”

I study the cabin more carefully. It’s not much smaller than the cottage, and I can see from here that the bones are good. Made of solid stone, decent proportions, and something else. The way it’s tucked into the hillside, the way the trees would buffer sound. I think about the solitude of it, the peace this land brings to me, the way the space could be mine. Become a place I could work and record without leaving, without being gone for months on end.

“What would it take?” I ask. “To fix it up?”

Madison blinks, surprised by the question. “I haven’t been inside, but it’d definitely need a new roof and windows. The plumbing and electrical probably need to be updated.” She tilts her head, studying me. “Why?”

I don’t answer her, still turning it over in my head, the possibility of what it could become. Instead, I focus on the step that has to happen before that cabin could ever be what I’m picturing.

I grab her hands, turning her to face me. Her eyes widen slightly and I wonder what she sees on my face. My heart beats so hard I feel like it might fly out of my chest.

“What do you want?” My voice comes out rougher than I intend, but I can’t change it, not right now.

She stares at me and I watch her throat work as she swallows. “I don’t—I don’t know what you mean.”

“During the tour. After.” I search her face, looking for some sign of what she’s thinking, what she’s hoping for. “What do you want our future to look like?”