“Nothing.”
“Ben...”
“Kate, stop. Not everything has a price. Sometimes people just help because it's right.”
“And sometimes people help because they want something.”
His face changed, a flash of hurt quickly hidden. “Is that what you think? That I'm doing this to... what? Manipulate you into caring about me?”
“I don't know what to think.”
“Then let me be clear.” He stepped closer. “I help because I care about you. Not because I expect anything in return, butbecause seeing you struggle alone when you don't have to makes me crazy. I show up because I want to, because something about you feels like home to me, even when you're pushing me away with both hands. Not everything is transactional.”
Kate's throat was tight. “I don't know how to stop pushing.”
“Then don't. Push all you want. I'm not going anywhere.” He touched her face gently, just his fingertips against her cheek, and Kate couldn't help leaning into it slightly. “I'm patient. I can wait until you figure out that being loved isn't the same as being trapped.”
He left before she could respond, his truck disappearing down the storm-damaged road. Kate stood on the porch, her cheek still warm from his touch, watching the space where he'd been.
Dani appeared beside her. “He's right, you know.”
“About what?”
“Being loved isn't the same as being trapped. Mom knew that. Even Lillian's learning it.” Dani linked her arm through Kate's. “Maybe it's time you learned it too.”
That evening, the family gathered for dinner. Even Lillian came, looking tired but determined to be present. Pop was having a good evening, recognized everyone, told stories about previous storms. The inn felt warm and alive, filled with family despite everything complicated about their relationships.
But Kate kept thinking about Ben's words, about his patience, about the way he'd shown up in the storm and stayed for the cleanup. She thought about her mother, choosing love over security, and wondered if courage was hereditary or learned.
Through the dining room window, she could see the space where the oak had stood for a hundred years. Its absence changed the view, opened up sightlines that had been blocked,let in light that hadn't reached the inn before. Change through destruction, beauty through loss.
Maybe that's what love was: the storm that knocked down what needed falling, the cleanup that followed, the new view that emerged when the debris was cleared.
But knowing that and acting on it were different things, and Kate wasn't ready yet to let her last defenses fall, even for someone who showed up in storms.
Not yet.
CHAPTER 15
Three days after the storm, Kate woke to find Pop in the kitchen at four in the morning, methodically packing canned goods into a cardboard box. He was still in his pajamas, feet bare despite the cold floor, humming something she couldn't quite place.
“Pop? What are you doing?”
He looked up, and for a moment his eyes were completely blank. Then something flickered, not quite recognition but at least acknowledgment that she was familiar.
“Storm's coming,” he said, returning to his packing. “Need to get supplies to the shelter.”
“The storm already passed, Pop. Three days ago.”
“No.” His voice was firm. “Elizabeth called. Said the church needs donations. Big storm coming.”
Kate's heart sank. Elizabeth had been dead for years, but in Pop's mind she was still making phone calls, still organizing charity drives. Kate watched him carefully wrap a can of soup in newspaper, the movements precise despite his confusion.
“Okay, Pop. But it's too early to go to the church. Why don't we wait until morning?”
“This is morning.”
“Later morning. When the sun's up.”
