Page 10 of Timber Ridge

I give her hand a reassuring squeeze back, my role as the protective big brother never fading, no matter how much I grumble. “Just take care of yourself, okay?”

With a plan reluctantly in place, I turn to Timber and say in my friendliest tone, “Ready to see the town?”

I reach for the check while Eliza gathers her things, still pressing a hand to her belly. “Remember to call if you need anything,” I tell her.

Eliza gives me a slight nod. “I will.”

“I’ll pay for mine,” Timber says.

I shake my head. “I’ve got it. It’s the least I can do since I was late yesterday.”

I sense that she wants to argue, but she doesn’t. She nods and says, “Thank you.”

After paying, we say goodbye to May and step outside. The brisk air hits us with the subtle bite of reality. Eliza heads to the ATV, her steps slow but steady. I watch for a moment, making sure she’s settled before turning to Timber, who’s looking up at the blue sky with a tourist’s wonder.

There’s an awkward silence. I shove my hands into my pockets, sensing the weight of what lies ahead.

“I didn’t tell her you weren’t pretty,” I whisper, almost against my will, as we start walking.

Timber turns in my direction with a teasing sparkle in her eyes. “Oh, so you think I am?”

The corner of my mouth twitches up despite my efforts. “You’re okay for a city girl.”

We walk side by side now, with Hailey skipping ahead as if she’s the tour guide. I let it happen because when Hailey thinks she’s helpful, she’s happy, and I only want her to be happy.

Hailey’s chatter is as constant as the waves lapping the shore, filling the space between us with innocent observations and questions. Her small hand finds mine, tugging me along as she skips toward town.

“Uncle Rhys runs everything on the dock, and when I’m super good, he gives me a lollipop!” Her voice is full of pride, eyes wide with the importance of this grown-up transaction.

“Is that so?” Timber engages her with a warm expression, clearly charmed. “I’d love to meet this generous uncle of yours.”

Hailey beams at the prospect, but I’m quick to temper her enthusiasm. “Not today, Noodle. We’ve got a job to do.”

Hailey’s shoulders slump briefly before she’s off again, resilient as only a child can be, skipping ahead to the next point of interest.

“You call her Noodle. Why that nickname?”

“From the second she was born, she was all floppy, just a wriggly little thing in my arms,” I explain. “Couldn’t hold her head up, limbs waving around ... I called her Noodle right then and there. And it stuck.”

“I see that it’s just you and Hailey today. Will I have a chance to meet Hailey’s mother? Will she be dropping off or picking Hailey up from school?”

Timber asks in a way I imagine a teacher would at a conference when a parent is missing, but it still irks me. I hate making excuses for Amanda. “No, she doesn’t live here.”

Timber nods, but she doesn’t press for more information and walks forward.

Hailey points to the communal showers by the water station. “Since you’re staying in Grandpa’s old cabin, you’ll have to shower here. Or you could come to our house?”

Before Timber can respond, I’m shaking my head. “No, no, these showers are closer and more convenient for you,” I say too quickly. I don’t need Timber looking all ... well, looking like she does, showing up at my doorstep for a shower. The thought lingers, unbidden and unsettling. I stare at her, taking in the way she’s talking with Hailey, the easy set of her shoulders, the softness of her laugh.

And that’s when it hits me—against all my resistance, I find her ... nice looking. It’s more than nice looking, if I’m honest. It’s a realization that clings like a snagged net, something I can’t quite shake free of.

I tuck the thought away, somewhere deep and out of sight, and focus on the path ahead. For now, the showers by the water station are just showers, and Timber is just the woman who will help us through the summer. That’s all.

We round a corner, and Hailey races ahead to a weathered sign standing guard at the entrance of the town. The wood has turned silver with age, but the words are still legible, carved deeply and backfilled with black paint that resists the relentless kiss of the sun and the bite of winter’s chill.

“The port’s promise,” Hailey reads aloud, her fingers tracing the carved letters. “We vow to create a community where every hand is extended in support, and no one stands alone.”

“Good job, Hailey,” Timber says.