The Lighthouse Pact

Chapter One: The Edge of the Tide

The wind off the Maine coast smelled like salt and regret, and Nora Calder sucked it in deep as she slammed the door of her beat-up Subaru. The lighthouse loomed ahead, a gray silhouette against a sky that couldn't decide if it wanted to rain or just brood. She tugged her scarf tighter, the wool scratching her chin, and squinted up at the tower. Ten years since she'd last stood here. Ten years since she'd last seen him.

She wasn't supposed to be back in Cutler Cove. She'd built a life in Boston—lab coats, microscopes, the steady hum of research grants. Marine biology didn't leave room for ghosts. But the letter from the town council had dragged her back: Lighthouse slated for demolition. Public meeting next week. She couldn't let it go down without a fight. That tower wasn't just stone and mortar—it was her childhood, her promises, her stupid, reckless heart.

The gravel crunched under her boots as she crossed the lot, her eyes catching on a pickup truck parked near the cliff edge. Red, rusty, a dent in the tailgate. Her stomach did a slow flip. She knew that truck. Hadn't she traced her initials on its dusty hood once, laughing while Elias swatted her hand away?

"No," she muttered, shaking her head. "No way."

But then the driver's door creaked open, and there he was—Elias Hart, all six-foot-two of him, stepping out like he'd been waiting for her. His dark hair was shorter now, streaked with a little gray at the temples, but those broad shoulders and the way he moved, like he owned the ground beneath him, hadn't changed a bit. He wore a flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up, and a tool belt slung low on his hips. Of course he'd be here. Cutler Cove was too small to avoid your past.

"Nora?" His voice carried over the wind, rough and surprised, like he'd just tripped over her name.

She stopped dead, her boots skidding on the gravel. "Elias."

He took a step closer, then hesitated, hands jamming into his pockets. Up close, she could see the lines around his eyes, the faint scruff on his jaw. He looked good—too good—and it pissed her off. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Same as you, I guess," she said, nodding at the lighthouse. "Heard they're tearing it down."

His jaw tightened, and he glanced at the tower like it'd personally offended him. "Yeah. I'm the one they hired to do it."

The words hit her like a slap. "You're kidding."

"Wish I was." He shrugged, but it wasn't casual—it was heavy, like he'd been carrying something he didn't want to hold. "Town's paying me to gut it. Start next month, unless someone stops it."

"Someone like me," she said, crossing her arms. "I'm not letting this happen, Elias. That lighthouse—it's history. It's ours."

He stared at her, and for a second, she thought he'd argue. Instead, he let out a low laugh, the kind that used to make her stomach flutter. "Ours, huh? Been a while since you claimed anything around here."

Her cheeks burned, and she looked away, out at the waves crashing against the rocks below. He wasn't wrong. She'd left Cutler Cove—and him—without a backward glance. But she wasn't about to let him dig into that wound. Not yet. "Things change," she said. "Doesn't mean I don't care."

"Funny way of showing it," he muttered, then shook his head. "Look, Nora, I don't want this job any more than you want me to have it. But I've got bills. A crew. I can't just walk away."

She opened her mouth to snap back, but the glint of something on his left hand stopped her cold. A ring. Gold, simple, catching the weak afternoon light. Her throat went dry. "You're married?"

He followed her gaze, then flexed his fingers, like he'd forgotten the ring was there. "Engaged," he said, voice flat. "Her name's Leah."

Leah. The name landed like a pebble in a still pond, rippling through her. She didn't know why it hurt—ten years was ten years, and she'd had her own flings, her own near-misses—but it did. "Congrats," she managed, forcing a smile that felt like it might crack her face.

"Thanks." He didn't sound happy about it. He sounded tired.

A gust of wind shoved between them, and Nora shivered, pulling her coat tighter. She needed to get out of here, away from him, before the past came rushing back too fast. "I've got a meeting with the council tomorrow," she said. "I'm fighting this. You should know that."

He nodded, slow and deliberate. "Figured you would. You never did back down easy."

"Neither did you," she shot back.

That got a real smile out of him, small but warm, and for a heartbeat, she saw the boy she'd loved—the one who'd carved their initials into the lighthouse railing, who'd promised her forever under a starry sky. Then it was gone, and he was just Elias again, the man about to tear it all down.

"See you around, Nora," he said, turning back to his truck.

"Yeah," she whispered, though he was already too far to hear. "See you."

She stood there as his engine roared to life, watching the taillights fade down the winding road. The lighthouse loomed behind her, silent and stubborn, just like the ache in her chest. She'd come back to save it. She hadn't come back for him. But as the wind howled and the waves roared, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she'd been lying to herself all along.