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 on the lighthouse steps, the April wind tugging at her hair, a clipboard in hand. The council's vote had bought them six months—until October 12th—to prove the tower could pay its way. Tourism, events, something to keep it off the chopping block. The ink on the conditional approval was barely dry, and already the clock felt loud.

Elias was inside, rigging lights for a night tour Meg had pitched—$10 a head, ghost stories included. He'd been quiet since the vote, focused but distant, and it gnawed at her. They'd won, but the fight wasn't over, and she wondered if he felt the weight like she did.

"Hey," she called, stepping in. The tower smelled of fresh paint, the west wall smooth now, a scar hidden under plaster. He looked up from a tangle of wires, his flannel sleeves rolled to his elbows.

"Hey," he said, wiping his hands. "Tour's set for tomorrow. Meg's got twenty signed up."

"Good," she said, checking her list. "I've got a grant renewal due—small, but it'll cover maintenance. And the café's doing a 'Lighthouse Blend'—proceeds split."

He nodded, but his eyes didn't meet hers. "Sounds solid."

She set the clipboard down, crossing her arms. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he said, too quick. "Just tired."

"Bullshit," she said, stepping closer. "Talk to me."

He sighed, dropping the wires. "It's not over, Nora. We've got six months, and if it flops—if the town doesn't show up—I'm the one who's gotta tear it down. Again."

Her stomach twisted. "You won't. We'll make it work."

He looked at her then, raw and unguarded. "I want to believe that. But I've got crew depending on me, bills piling up. This—" he gestured at the tower—"it's everything, but it's a hell of a risk."

She took his hand, squeezing. "We're in this. Together. I'm not running this time."

His jaw softened, and he pulled her in, kissing her—brief but fierce. "Okay," he said, voice rough. "Together."

The next night, the tour kicked off, the lantern room glowing soft against the dark. Meg spun Amos and Mary's tale, her voice echoing, while Nora and Elias lingered by the stairs, watching the crowd—tourists, locals, kids wide-eyed. It wasn't packed, but it was a start, $200 in the jar by the end.

After, they sat on the cliff edge, the sea black below, sharing a thermos of coffee. "Not bad," she said, leaning into him.

"Yeah," he said, arm around her. "First step."

She kissed him, slow and warm, the night wrapping around them. It wasn't a fix, but it was progress, and they held it tight.

Days blurred into weeks—tours twice a month, a school field trip, a photographer renting the tower for shots. Money trickled in, enough to pay Jimmy's crew and keep the lights on. Elias relaxed some, his laugh coming easier, and Nora felt it—them settling, the lighthouse rooting them.

But the town wasn't all in. Tom and the fishermen grumbled at every meeting, pushing for docks, and whispers about "wasted cash" followed her at the café. She ignored it, head down, until Meg flagged her down one afternoon, face tight.

"Problem," Meg said, sliding into a booth. "Council's sniffing around. Tom's got a petition—says the tower's a drain. Wants a revote."

Nora's heart sank. "They can't. It's conditional—"

"They can push," Meg said. "If they prove it's not viable by October, you're done."

She drove to Elias, finding him at the lighthouse, patching a window. "Tom's at it," she said, breathless. "Petition. Revote."

He cursed, dropping his hammer. "Bastard. We've got numbers—show 'em."

"Not enough," she said. "We need more—events, crowds. Something big."

He nodded, pulling her close. "We'll figure it. We always do."

She clung to him, the fight flaring again, and prayed he was right.

Chapter 22: The Proving Ground