The Lakehouse Tetralogy: Book N
Act I — Arrival
She moved in on a Thursday.
Lakehouse beside his.
Same dock layout.
Same forest behind.
Same quiet stretch of water in front of them.
Price watched from his porch, beer in hand, pretending not to notice the way she unloaded boxes with ease, the way her dog followed her like a shadow, the way she smiled at the silence.
She was younger.
Beautiful.
Capable.
The kind of woman who didn’t need saving—but made you want to anyway.
Her house was warm.
Wood-paneled.
Herbs in the windowsill by Sunday.
Dog house by Monday.
By Tuesday, Price had memorized her routine.
Act II — First Contact
It started with a wave.
She was on her dock.
He was on his.
She waved.
He nodded.
Next day, she brought lemon bars.
Said she baked too many.
He said he grilled too much.
They traded food.
Stories.
Walks through the woods.
She asked him to walk her to the city once.
He said no gentleman lets a lady walk alone.
She laughed.
He didn’t.
Act III — The Drift
They became friends.
She asked for help fixing her porch light.
He brought tools.
She made coffee.
He stayed longer than he needed to.
She planted basil.
He built her a trellis.
She baked bread.
He fixed her fence.
She called him “Price.”
He called her “Bloody adorable.”
But in his head?
She was more.
She was warmth.
She was rhythm.
She was his.
She was the kind of woman who could cradle a kitten and shoot a coyote in the same breath.
He started wondering—
Is this what marriage feels like?
The quiet kind.
The earned kind.
The kind where you don’t need words.
Just presence.
Act IV — The Shift
He started fixing things that weren’t broken.
Just to be near her.
Just to be inside.
He noticed what she left behind.
A sock.
A hair tie.
A note.
He started taking them.
Little tokens.
Little pieces.
She never noticed.
He placed cameras.
Just a few.
Just enough.
He told himself it was for safety.
For protection.
But really?
It was possession.
She was his.
She just didn’t know it yet.