The rain had settled in for the weekend — soft, steady, and relentless. By late afternoon, Willow Harbor had gone quiet. The sound of it against the windows was the only thing keeping Emma company as she worked at the kitchen table, surrounded by half-finished sketches and coffee gone cold.
She didn't hear the knock right away. When she did, it was so faint she thought she'd imagined it. Then it came again, a gentle rhythm against the door.
Emma opened it to find Hannah standing on the porch, rain clinging to her hair and the shoulders of her gray coat.
"Hey," Hannah said, almost sheepishly. "I was in the neighborhood and saw your lights on. Thought I'd check in. The storm's getting worse."
Emma leaned against the doorframe, trying not to smile too obviously. "You came to make sure I wasn't being blown away?"
"Something like that," Hannah said, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. "Can I come in?"
"Of course."
Hannah stepped inside, bringing with her the scent of rain and cold air. She took in the cluttered table, the stacks of sketchpads, the half-open boxes. "You've been busy."
"Trying to be," Emma said. "It's easier than unpacking memories."
Hannah's eyes softened. "I know the feeling."
Emma gestured toward the kitchen. "Tea? Coffee? Or something stronger, if you're off duty."
"Tea's fine," Hannah said. "Though the last option's tempting."
While Emma filled the kettle, Hannah wandered to the old oak table, her fingers tracing the edge of one of the sketches — a rough pencil drawing of the harbor, the clouds low and brooding. "You've always been good at capturing the in-between moments."
Emma turned from the counter, surprised. "You remember my drawings?"
Hannah smiled faintly. "I remember you used to sit behind the gym after school, sketching instead of going to class."
"Caught me," Emma said with a small laugh. "I always thought nobody noticed."
"I noticed," Hannah said quietly. Then, realizing what she'd admitted, she added, "I notice people. It's part of the job."
Emma didn't call her on it. She just handed her a mug and sat across the table. The rain kept falling, steady as breath.
For a while, they talked about ordinary things — work, the town, the strange comfort of familiarity. But beneath the small talk, there was something else: the feeling that both of them were speaking around something they weren't quite ready to name.
When Hannah finally looked up, her expression had changed — softer, more open. "Can I tell you something?" she asked.
"Always."
"I thought I had my life figured out here," Hannah said. "The job, the house, the reputation. I used to think that was enough. But lately…" She hesitated, searching for the words. "Lately I've been wondering what it would feel like to want something just for myself again."
Emma felt her chest tighten. "That's not selfish, you know."
"It feels like it is," Hannah said, her eyes on her tea. "People in this town expect certain things. From me. From everyone."
Emma reached across the table, her hand brushing Hannah's wrist. The contact was light — barely there — but it stilled them both.
"Then maybe it's time someone surprised them," Emma said softly.
For a heartbeat, neither moved. The air between them was warm and fragile, the kind of moment that could tilt either way — toward retreat or toward something truer.
Hannah drew a slow breath, then smiled — small but real. "You make it sound easy."
"It's not," Emma said. "But you don't strike me as someone who hides forever."
Hannah laughed under her breath, shaking her head. "You don't know me as well as you think."
"Not yet," Emma said. "But I'd like to."
The rain intensified, drumming against the windows. They sat like that for a long while — two women surrounded by the sound of the storm, neither needing to fill the silence.
When Hannah finally stood to leave, she paused at the door. "Thanks for the tea," she said. Then, more quietly, "And for listening."
Emma smiled. "Anytime."
As the door closed behind her, Emma found herself staring at the empty chair across the table. The house didn't feel so hollow anymore. And for the first time since she'd come back, she wasn't sure if she wanted to leave.