Chapter 11: Leah’s Doubt

Elias slammed the truck door, the lighthouse fading in his mirrors as he peeled out. His hands shook on the wheel, Nora's face burned into his skull—those eyes, that almost-touch. He'd nearly crossed a line up there, and he hated himself for it. Leah didn't deserve this. Nora didn't either. But he couldn't stop it, the way she pulled him back, like gravity he'd forgotten how to fight.

Home was lit up, power back on, and Leah was in the living room, curled under a blanket with a glass of wine. She looked up as he walked in, her smile small. "Hey," she said. "You're late."

"Yeah," he said, shedding his coat. "Lighthouse stuff. Crew's off 'til we figure out the foundation."

She nodded, sipping her wine. "With Nora?"

He tensed, grabbing a beer from the fridge. "Yeah. She's got some grant thing going. Might work."

Leah set her glass down, slow and deliberate. "You've been spending a lot of time with her."

"She's fighting for it," he said, popping the cap. "I'm just… there."

"Right," she said, voice tight. She stood, blanket slipping off, and faced him. "Elias, we need to talk."

He froze, beer halfway to his mouth. "About what?"

"Us," she said, stepping closer. "You. Her."

"There's no 'her,'" he said, too quick. "It's just the job."

"Bullshit," she snapped, and he flinched. Leah didn't snap—ever. "I've seen you, Elias. You're different since she showed up. Distant. Running off every chance you get."

"I'm not—" he started, but she cut him off.

"Don't lie to me," she said, eyes wet. "I deserve the truth. Are you still in love with her?"

The question gutted him. He wanted to say no, to mean it, but his throat locked up. "Leah," he said, setting the beer down. "I'm with you. That's what matters."

"Is it?" she asked, voice breaking. "Because it doesn't feel like it. I'm not stupid—I know you two were something once. But if it's still there, if you're choosing her—"

"I'm not choosing anyone," he said, loud enough to startle them both. "I don't know what I'm doing, okay? She's… she's a mess I can't figure out."

Leah stared at him, tears spilling now. "Then figure it out. Because I can't keep waiting for you to pick me."

She grabbed her coat and walked out, the door slamming behind her. He stood there, the house too quiet, and sank onto the couch, head in his hands. She was right—he was slipping, and he didn't know how to stop.

Nora heard it later, at the café where she'd gone to escape the cottage. She was nursing a tea when Meg slid into the booth across from her, grim-faced. "Town's buzzing," Meg said. "Leah and Elias had a fight. Big one. She's staying at her sister's."

Nora's stomach dropped. "What happened?"

"No one's sure," Meg said, stirring her coffee. "But word is, it's about you."

"Me?" Nora's voice cracked. "I didn't—"

"Didn't have to," Meg said, blunt. "He's tangled up in you, Nora. Always has been. And Leah's not blind."

Nora gripped her mug, guilt clawing at her. "I'm not trying to take him."

"Maybe not," Meg said. "But you're not letting him go either."

She left Nora there, the tea going cold, and the weight of it all—the lighthouse, the past, Elias—pressed down hard. She hadn't meant for this, but it was happening anyway, and she couldn't outrun it anymore.