The Line We Cross

<p>Jonah Hale keeps Brackenbay steady-raising his daughter answering the lifeboat klaxon and measuring love in practical tasks and lists. Ivy Hart arrives to help Maisie a bright six-year-old whose voice went quiet after loss. She brings structure and gentleness: ear defenders a fox puppet with a staff lanyard and a rule they both can live by-answer in daylight no theatre. Together they map exits practice doorbells and turn a noisy town into ground that can be trusted.</p><p>It should be simple-until a contract lands on the kitchen table with a single hard sentence stitched in the middle: no fraternization. The line between employer and something more is suddenly inked public and impossible to ignore. Ivy and Jonah choose patience: steady mornings quiet victories a fête navigated with a den of blankets and a thirty-second safety brief. But weather shifts-at sea and at home-and what begins as care becomes a way of seeing one another clearly.</p><p>When the town's noise swells-trumpets gossip a doorbell with opinions-they refuse performance and reach for presence: two squeezes of the hand four-in-six-out breaths and the courage to leave before something breaks. Love here is not a rescue; it's a routine. The question is whether they can honor the clause that protects them-and still cross the real line together in daylight. For readers who crave slow-burn consent-forward emotionally intelligent romance with UK seaside warmth found-family texture and a quietly triumphant HEA.</p>