The road narrows into something more like a track, hedges closing in on either side, fields stretching out beyond them. Sheep dot the hills, lazy and unbothered, and a low stone farmhouse comes into view, tucked back from the road like it’s hiding.
I cut the engine and remain seated for a second, with my helmet still on, taking it all in.
This is . . . perfect.
Quiet. Remote. Close enough without being intrusive. Somewhere I can breathe. Somewhere I can wake up every morning knowing my kid won’t be in danger.
I pull my helmet off and swing my leg off the bike. I walk up the short gravel path and knock.
Footsteps sound almost immediately.
The door opens, and my stomach drops straight through the floor.
Peter.
He blinks when he sees me, surprise flashing across his face before it smooths into something carefully neutral.
“Kade,” he says.
“Peter,” I reply, my jaw tightening before I can stop it.
For a split second, neither of us speaks.
This is Eden’s Pete. Herboyfriend. The man I’ve been picturing in her bed, in her life, stepping into the space where I should be.
My grip tightens on the strap of my helmet as I talk myself down because Martha never answered my question, she never confirmed they were really a thing, or at least, nothing serious.
“I didn’t realise this was your place,” I say eventually, keeping my voice even.
He glances behind him, then back at me. “My farm. My farmhouse. And call me Pete,” he says gruffly before pushing the door wider. “Come in.”
He steps aside, and I hesitate before going in. This is for my kid, and pride doesn’t have a place here.
The house smells like fresh bread and wood polish. It’s warm, lived-in. The kind of place Eden would like. The kind of place that makes my chest ache because I can already picture her here, laughing, comfortable, safe.
Pete gestures towards the kitchen table. “Mrs. Wainwright said you might stop by.”
“Yeah, well, she forgot to mention it was you,” I mutter. Silence stretches again. I clear my throat. “Look, I know this is awkward.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “You could say that.”
I glance around, forcing myself to focus. “I’m looking for somewhere short-term. Quiet. Close by.” I meet his eyes again. “I won’t be any trouble.”
His gaze sharpens, not hostile, but assessing. Like he’s weighing me up. “To be honest, I’m hardly around myself. I work long hours on the farm.”
“And I assume Eden takes up your evenings,” I say, eyeing him.
“Is she the reason you’re sticking around, or have you developed a sudden love for the place?” he asks with a smirk.
“I need to be around for my kid,” I say firmly. “But I won’t sit here and lie to your face. I want her back. I love her.” The words feel like a weight lifting. “I fucked things up really badly.” I exhale slowly. “I’m trying to fix them. Properly. Not by forcing my way back in.”
He studies me for a long moment. Then, to my surprise, his shoulders relax. “The room’s yours if you want it,” he says. “Month by month. No pressure.”
I blink. “You sure?”
He nods. “Farm’s big enough for the both of us.”
Relief hits me so hard I almost sway.
