faustinaimonmon

Nora Calder swore she’d never return to Cutler Cove, the coastal town where she left her heart—and Elias Hart—ten years ago. But when the lighthouse that holds their teenage pact faces demolition, she’s back, armed with grit and a secret that drove her away: her father’s ruinous debts. At 34, she’s got one shot to save the tower—and maybe herself—before the council tears it down.
Elias, now a rugged contractor engaged to sweet, steady Leah, didn’t expect Nora’s return to crack his world open. Their pact—if single at 35, they’d marry atop the lighthouse—haunts him as she fights for the crumbling landmark he’s hired to destroy. Old initials carved in the railing and stolen glances reignite a fire he thought was ash, but loyalty and love pull him in two.
As storms batter the coast and the town splits over the lighthouse’s fate, Nora and Elias clash, then cling—unearthing her past, shattering his future, and rebuilding more than stone. From desperate kisses in the lantern room to a festival that could save it all, they face a deadline that’s more than a vote: six months to prove the tower’s worth, and theirs. In a tangle of sweat, salt, and second chances, The Lighthouse Pact is a raw, steamy romance about love that won’t stay buried—and a promise that might just hold.

The Lighthouse Pact

Nora stood in the cottage kitchen, the clock ticking past midnight, her laptop open to a spreadsheet of numbers that refused to add up. The west wall's crack had drained the last of their cash—her savings, Elias's crew budget, every dime from the fundraiser—and the council vote was two days away, April 12th. They'd fixed the roof, braced the foundation, but it wasn't enough. The lighthouse needed more, and they were out of miracles.

She rubbed her eyes, the screen blurring, when the door creaked open. Elias stepped in, his jacket dusted with sawdust, his face drawn from a long day. "You're still up," he said, dropping his keys on the counter.

"Couldn't sleep," she said, shutting the laptop. "Numbers aren't lying—we're short."

He nodded, pulling a beer from the fridge and handing her one. "Jimmy's got a guy who'll do the plaster cheap, but it's still a grand. We've got maybe half that."

She took the beer, the cold glass grounding her. "I'll sell the Subaru if I have to. Get us over."

He laughed, short and tired. "You love that car."

"I love this more," she said, meeting his eyes. The lighthouse, them—it was tangled now, one fight bleeding into the other.

He sat beside her, their knees brushing. "We've done what we can," he said. "Roof's solid, east wall's patched. West's a risk, but it's standing. Council might see it our way."

"Might," she echoed, sipping her beer. "Not good enough."

He set his bottle down, turning her chair to face him. "Hey," he said, hands on her thighs. "You've carried this thing—grants, town, all of it. Let me take some now."

Her throat tightened. "You have. Crew, repairs—you're in this."

"Not enough," he said, voice low. "I'm calling my dad tomorrow. He's got savings—might float us the rest."

"Elias," she started, but he shook his head.

"He'll do it," he said. "For me. For this."

She leaned in, kissing him—soft, grateful, his stubble rough under her lips. He pulled her closer, deepening it, his hands sliding up her back. It wasn't like the lantern room—wild, urgent—but warm, steady, a promise they'd make it. They broke apart, foreheads touching, and she whispered, "Thank you."

"Anytime," he said, and they finished their beers in silence, the weight shared for once.

The next day was a blur—Elias on the phone with his dad, Nora rallying Meg and the town for the vote. His dad came through—$1,500 wired by noon, enough to plaster the west wall and polish the case. The crew worked fast, smoothing the crack, and by dusk, the lighthouse looked whole—scarred but proud.

They stood outside, the sun dipping low, and Elias slipped his arm around her. "Looks good," he said, voice rough with relief.

"Yeah," she said, leaning into him. "We did this."

He kissed her temple, lingering, and she felt it—the shift from fighting to holding. Tomorrow was the vote, but tonight, they had this, and it was enough.

Chapter 20: The Final Push