Page 33 of Redeeming Melodies

"Goodnight, Elliot." I watched him climb the inn's steps, fighting the urge to follow, to make sure he made it to his room okay. Since when was I so damn protective?

He paused at the door, looking back. "Hey Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For..." He gestured vaguely between us. "Whatever this is."

Before I could respond, he disappeared inside, leaving me standing in the quiet night with too many questions and no answers I was ready to face.

The drive home was a blur of confusion and denial. I told myself I was just doing my job - looking after a newcomer, maintaining peace in my town. But the memory of his eyes meeting mine, of that genuine smile breaking through his defenses, suggested something else entirely.

Something that made my chest tight and my thoughts scatter. Something I definitely wasn't equipped to handle.

Professional distance, Thompson. That's all this needs to be.

But as I pulled into my driveway, I couldn't shake the feeling that professional distance was already a lost cause.

Fuck.

SOMETHING NEW

My hangover wasn't nearly as bad as it should've been, probably thanks to all that water Jake kept pushing at me last night. Jake. The memory of his steady presence, of those concerned looks he thought I didn't notice, made something warm stir in my chest.

Coffee. I definitely needed coffee.

Sarah's Diner glowed invitingly in the morning light, already half-full with the breakfast crowd. The bell chimed as I pushed through the door, and Sarah herself looked up from behind the counter.

"Well, look who's up bright and early," she called out, already reaching for a coffee pot. "Nina said you might need the strong stuff this morning. Jake made sure you got back to Clara's okay?"

There it was again - that weird flutter at the mention of his name. Must be embarrassment about needing a police escort. "Yeah, he was professional about it."

"Jake's professional about everything." Sarah's smile held something I couldn't quite read. "Except maybe when he's watching certain newcomers through the diner window."

I glanced out automatically. The patrol car sat across the street, Jake visible in the driver's seat, apparently focused on some paperwork. Probably just keeping an eye on the town troublemaker. That's all it was.

"French toast?" Sarah asked, pulling me back from thoughts I didn't want to examine. "Or are you more of a bacon and eggs man?"

"Just coffee," I started to say, but she was already writing on her pad.

"French toast it is.”

The coffee was perfect - strong and hot, exactly what I needed to face whatever the day would bring. Through the window, I watched Jake climb out of his cruiser, straightening his uniform with practiced efficiency. He moved with an easy confidence that made something in my chest tighten. Probably just instinctive respect for authority. Or gratitude for his help last night. Nothing more complicated than that.

"More coffee, hon?" Sarah appeared with the pot and a knowing look I chose to ignore.

"Thanks." I turned away from the window. "Is it always like this here? Everyone knowing everything?"

"Only the important things." She topped off my cup. "Like when someone might be worth keeping around."

I neededto clear my head, so instead of heading back toward the city and all its chaos, I found myself cruising through Oakwood Grove's quiet streets.

That's when I saw a house that looked like it could some care just along the coast. The realtor's sign swayed gently in the morning breeze, sunlight catching the "For Sale" letters in a waythat made my heart clench unexpectedly. I looked into the sign more and it was said to be owned by the Millers.

"Well, shit," I muttered, pulling over to get a better look.

The house sat back from the road, all classic lines and wraparound porch, the kind of place that actually looked lived-in rather than staged for magazines. The yard stretched forever, dotted with ancient oak trees perfect for climbing. Tommy would love that - he'd been begging for a treehouse since he could talk.

Tommy.

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