Page 28 of The Clifftop Cottage

Instead of heading home, Gabriel took the long way, following the old dirt track as it wound along the cliffs. And there it was – the cottage.

A soft glow from the window, a wisp of smoke curling from the chimney. She’d wasted no time settling in.

His fingers drummed against the steering wheel. He could pay her a visit, check that everything was alright. That was reasonable, wasn’t it? But no, showing up unannounced would be … odd. Overbearing. The kind of thing Sorcha would raise an eyebrow at and never let him hear the end of.

He’d already dropped off the bed and a few bits of furniture, things that had been gathering dust in his shed. Things Annette had picked out once, when she still believed they’d make a home together. That home had never materialised, and the furniture had just sat there, waiting for something that never quite happened.

His sister’s words nagged at him.

Had he done it again? Fallen into the habit of saving something. Or someone.

When he’d first seen Erica on the cliffs, something in her expression had unsettled him in a way he couldn’t quite explain. A sadness, a distance, like she was caught between staying and going. He had wanted to help, instinctively. And later, when she had needed him – when he could be her knight in shining armour, even just for a moment – it had felt … good. Was there anything wrong with that?

But it wasn’t just that, was it?

There was something about her he couldn’t quite pin down.

The way she held herself – like she was only half there. Like she might leave at any moment. He liked that.

Gabriel exhaled and turned the truck away from the cottage, heading for home instead.

Maybe he did need to keep his distance. Let her sort out her own problems. Let her breathe without him hovering in the background like some sort of well-meaning ghost.

Hadn’t he learned that lesson with Annette? He had given her space, let her figure things out – and then she had left him anyway.

His grip tightened on the wheel.

When he pulled into his driveway, Chep was already curled in his bed on the porch, lifting his head just enough to acknowledge him before snorting and settling back down.

“Some guard dog you are,” Gabriel muttered, giving him a brief pat before stepping inside.

He shrugged off his jacket and microwaved some leftover stew, easing himself down to the table with a sigh. He had barely lifted his fork when his phone beeped.

An emergency.

The coastguard needed fire services at the harbour – a boat in distress, battered by the incoming tide. Fuel risk. Recovery. All hands.

Gabriel’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood. So much for a quiet night.

He grabbed his jacket, keys already in hand.

Sorcha’s voice echoed faintly in his head. You try to save everything.

Gabriel pushed the door open and stepped into the cold.

Maybe she wasn’t wrong.

11

“You sure you don’t need anything else?” Leah’s gaze swept over the cottage, her index finger tapping against her lips in assessment.

Meanwhile, Maisie bounced on Erica’s bed, her socked feet ruffling the terracotta sheets. Erica flinched but said nothing, biting back the urge to tell her niece to stop. It wasn’t Maisie’s fault she wasn’t used to children rampaging through her space.

“I think I have everything,” Erica said. “And if not, there are shops in town.”

“Well, I know you’re used to ordering everything online, sis, but I doubt the delivery vans would make it up this road. It’s positively an accident waiting to happen, with crumbling edges and sheer drops.” Leah shuddered. “I’m surprised you’d want to be here. Don’t you feel … cut off?”

Erica shrugged. “Exactly.”