Chapter 21 #2
“You didn’t do all that because you’re not in this for the long haul,” Gabe continues, his voice gruff but certain. “You love her, Colt. You love her kid. So what are you waiting for?”
All the air leaves my lungs.
I love her?
I love her.
Shit. He's right. But I’ve spent my whole life performing love. Saying the right things, making the gestures, charming parents and friends.
But I’ve never felt it.
I've never loved anyone before. Let alone been loved by someone.
But Gabe’s right. That’s exactly what it is.
I love Zoey Morrison. I love her strength and her stubbornness and the way she fights for everyone but herself. I love the soft sounds she makes when she sleeps. I love the food in her hair and the fire in her eyes when she talks about her bakery.
And I love Morgan. Christ I love that kid.
I love her curiosity and her bluntness and the way she trusts me with her crayon drawings and her card tricks.
“Yeah,” I say, the word rough. “Shit… I do. I do love her.”
Samuel claps a hand on my shoulder. “Then what are you still doing here?!”
Cade practically launches me off the seat like I'm a human catapult.
"Go get 'em, tiger," he says, giving me slap on the ass for good measure.
I race through the building and slide back into my SUV, making one stop on the way at a little framing shop at the top of Main Street. The old wooden door squeaks as I walk in, and an elderly woman with glasses on a chain looks up from her workbench.
“Can I help you?”
“I need this framed,” I say, pulling Morgan’s drawing from inside my jacket. “Today. Now, if possible.”
I bat my lashes and she takes it with an eyeroll.
“You're lucky this is so precious,” she says, getting to work. Her eyes soften as she studies the three stick figures, the big red heart, the careful, childish writing that was added last night: Me, Mom, and Buddy.
“Damn right I'm lucky.”
Thirty minutes and a truly absurd amount of money later, I walk out with the drawing sealed in a beautiful walnut frame. I stop at my apartment next, seeing it the cold, empty showroom I’ve barely lived in for what it really is now… nothing.
I grab the one thing that matters, then head to the bakery.
Pulling up out front, I kill the engine and see the door has been propped open with a brick. What the hell? I unbuckle and grab the frame, racing into the bakery where the conversation instantly dies the second I step inside.
Morgan is at the counter, still wearing her pajamas, swinging her legs as she devours a raspberry tart. She's clearly enjoying her free day off school, and Quinn Reyes is leaning on the other side, sipping a latte and telling a wildly inappropriate story.
"—and so Tommy Brecker had absolutely no idea what he was doing… he'd never kissed a girl before. But points for enthusiasm, right? Anyway, the general store owner comes outside, and I swear, Morgs, I have never run so fast in my—"
Quinn's eyes land on me first.
Morgan spins around on her stool.
"Buddy!"
The room goes quiet. All eyes turn to me.
Mason is loading a cardboard box behind the counter with an assortment of pastries, probably for the drive back to the airport. Beck is on his phone near the window, talking to what sounds like their coach.
And Declan… Declan is leaning against the wall by the kitchen door, his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on me like he’s been waiting to watch the moment I fuck this all up.
Zoey comes out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Her guarded expression is still there, but I see a flicker of something else beneath it. Hope? Fear?
“Colt?” She glances at the clock as I set the box in my arms on the counter. "You were… quick."
I take a breath, then blurt it out before I can't stop myself. “I turned down the trade.”
Morgan stops chewing, her eyes growing huge. Quinn’s mug hovers halfway to her lips. Mason freezes, a croissant falling from the tongs. Beck ends his call and Declan doesn’t move.
Zoey’s breath hitches. “That’s… you shouldn’t have—”
“But there’s something else, Zo.” My heart is still hammering against my ribs, but I open the box to reveal, resting on a bed of tissue paper, the framed drawing. The three of us, forever captured in crayon and childish love.
And beside it, a single set of keys.
Zoey stares as she slowly steps in front of me. “What is this?”
“Keys to my apartment.” I pick them up. “Well, my old apartment. I’m terminating the lease.”
Her brow furrows. “Why?”
“Because you know what I realized this morning? After last night, after everything that's happened… I don’t want to be anywhere except wherever you are.”
I move in closer, holding her eyes.
“Zoey, I don’t care what that means. You had a whole damn notebook of dreams once upon a time. Pages and pages of what you wanted to build. And you know what I had?”
I have to swallow before I can continue.
“I had a heart that was desperate to be loved."
Zoey blinks around the room. "Colt—"
"It's true, Zoey. I had parents who taught me that affection was a reward to be earned. I had a childhood of practices and empty promises.” I look over at Morgan, who’s watching me with solemn, understanding eyes. I wink at her, and she gives me a tiny, wobbly smile.
“I never had what you guys had,” I say, glancing at her brothers too. “The chaos, the inside jokes, the certainty that someone would be there. But it's all I ever wanted, and you know what? With you… I’ve got it now."
"And if that means following you across the country just to see you achieve your dreams, then I’d give everything away. Every contract, every spotlight, every pay check. Just to see that gorgeous smile on your face every damn day.”
Her eyes start to well up.
“I love you, Zoey.” A smile spreads across my face. “I’ve never said that to anyone. Not my parents, not anyone. Because I didn’t know what it meant until now… until you.”
My own eyes are burning. I don’t care.
“I’m yours. And whatever you decide about the franchise, wherever it takes you, I’ll be there. I'll be right there with you.”
The silence that follows is so profound, but then a small scraping sound echoes as Morgan slides off her stool. Her eyes are enormous, her bottom lip trembling.
She takes two hesitant steps, then breaks into a full blown run.
She launches herself at me so hard I stagger back, catching her automatically. Her small arms wrap around my neck, holding on with all her strength.
“I love you, too, Buddy,” she whispers, her voice muffled against my chest as everyone laughs and coos around us.
The dam inside my chest breaks.
I sink to my knees right there on the bakery floor, bringing us eye to eye. She doesn’t let go. She just holds on tighter, her face buried in my shoulder, her small body shaking… but this time, I think it’s with relief.
I hold her, one hand cradling the back of her head, my own tears slipping free.
Over Morgan’s shoulder, I see Zoey watching us, one hand pressed to her mouth. Her tears are falling freely now. Declan catches her eye from across the room and gives her the smallest nod.
She comes around the counter, then she kneels and puts her arms around both of us, sobbing against my shoulder. She holds on like she’ll never let go.
“You know I love you too, right? And I’m not going anywhere,” she says softly. "I'm not going anywhere, Colt."
My heart stutters. “What?”
“I called the investor this morning. While you were at the arena.” She takes a deep breath, stepping closer. “I told them I’ll take the deal. The franchise, the expansion, all of it.”
A knot of dread tightens in my stomach. “Zoey, that's great—”
“But,” she interrupts, a small, triumphant smile touching her lips.
“Only if the headquarters stays in Chilmore. The first expansion location can be wherever they want. New York, L.A., Timbuktu. I don’t care.
But this bakery—” she gestures around us, at the pastry cabinet, the coffee machine, the kitchen “—my bakery—stays right here. On Main Street. Where it belongs.”
She releases me and Morgan, holding us close as she looks at me, her eyes shining.
“Where we belong.”
The relief that crashes over me is so profound it nearly buckles my knees. I reach for her, my hands framing her face, my thumbs brushing away the last traces of tears.
“You’re sure?” I whisper.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” She rises on her toes, her lips brushing mine. “You were right. We write our own story.”
I kiss her then. Not gentle, not careful. I kiss her with all the desperate, grateful, overwhelming love that’s been building inside me for weeks. I kiss her until we’re both breathless, until we stumble back against the counter, knocking a tray of freshly glazed scones to the floor with a crash.
We break apart, panting, staring at the mess of pastries and porcelain scattered across the tiles.
Zoey lets out a breathless laugh. “Well. There goes the morning rush.”
“I’ll buy them all,” I murmur, dipping my head to kiss her again. “I’ll buy the whole damn bakery.”
“You already have,” she whispers against my lips, her arms tightening around my neck. “You bought it with secret handshakes and pancake breakfasts. You bought it the moment you stayed.”
And as I hold her there, in the warm, buttery heart of her dream, with the sound of Morgan’s laughter drifting in from the front of the shop, I know one thing for certain.
I’m not just staying.
I’m home.