Chapter Twenty Two
One Step from Forever
“ Y ou should come out with us,” Griff says, smiling as he leans against the hardware store counter, all giant, tattooed arms, and enthusiasm.
He’s been spending too much time with Wilder.
“Out?” Holt asks, body stalling mid-action for a beat. He blinks, brain coming back online, and drops the screws in the bag. “To where?”
“We're going to the Twisted Saddle tomorrow night to celebrate.”
“Celebrate…” Holt murmurs, brows tight. He drags his beanie lower and flicks his gaze to the old school register. “That’ll be seven flat.”
I pull a ten from my wallet, pass it over and give him an apologetic look. “Ignore him.”
“Oh,” he says, eyes flicking between us. “Alright.”
“No,” Griff drawls. “Don’t ignore him, Holt. We’re celebrating Kade finally getting his kid.”
“Griff.” I sigh, yanking my hat off. I tuck the bill into my back pocket and tug on my hair, anxiety practically strangling me. “Don’t jinx it.”
In the last few weeks, everyone in town has found out about what happened with Marlee and Aurora. It’s been impossible to keep it under wraps with all the construction going on, and the trips I’ve had to make into town for supplies.
Not to mention, Griffin and Wilder tell everyone they see they can’t wait to meet their niece.
“What?” he says, blinking innocently at me.
“You finished that entire fuckin’ checklist in record time.
Your house is perfect. Aurora’s room is done, and that stuffy social worker will be there at five to sign off on everything.
” He grins, squeezing my shoulder with a shake.
“Stop stressing. Few days from now, that baby girl will be yours. Mark my fuckin’ words. ”
I swallow hard, but don’t respond. Can’t.
“Congratulations, Kade.” Holt passes me my change and bag, flashing me a quick smile. He clears his throat, looking away again. “I’m sure it’ll all work out.”
“Thanks, man.” I tip my chin and heft the heavy mantle I custom ordered from him a few weeks ago. “And thank you again for doing this. It’s beautiful. You do damn fine work.”
“Might have to order one for myself,” Griff calls, holding the door for me. “See you at nine tomorrow, Holt.”
“Yeah, sure,” he mutters, bearded jaw ticking. “Maybe.”
The glass door sways shut gently behind Griffin and he stares down the three inches that separate us, giving me a disapproving look.
“That man has busted his ass to help you get the shit you need from other towns to finish your place. Least you can do is be polite and invite him for a fucking drink, you selfish prick.”
“I’ve invited Holt Montgomery to get a drink at least once a month since I got home. He always says maybe , and never shows.”
I carefully set the mantle on a blanket in the cab of my truck, right next to the cloud-shaped bookshelves I picked up for Aurora’s room.
They’re bright white and soft-edged— adorable, apparently—which is why I had to drive two towns over to find them today.
The Archer women are relentless when it comes to a vision.
“Let’s grab Wild and get back,” I mutter, jerking my chin toward the coffeeshop we left him at twenty minutes ago.
He nods, falling into step beside me.
Griffin’s not wrong, the house is done. But I haven’t laid eyes on Aurora’s room since my mom claimed it as her personal grandbaby project the day Georgia showed up at Honey Bea.
Haven’t laid eyes on Georgia, either.
Her showing up threw me for a fuckin’ loop.
I hadn’t seen her since that day at the store.
I figured I wouldn’t see her again at all—especially with me moving to Heart Springs and leaving Wildwood behind.
It was easier that way. Cleaner. But then she called me, said she’d been in an accident and needed my help.
I damn near lost my fuckin’ mind.
Hearing her sweet voice again cracked something open. And seeing her? Walking around my house, all sunshine and fire, red curls lit up in the morning light, freckles on display, and that damn mouth running?
It was too much. Too easy. Too comfortable .
And because it felt so fucking good, I let myself relax. Dropped my guard. Talked more than I meant to, shared things I shouldn’t have. All I could see was her in my space—smiling in my kitchen, toes curling in the hallway, laughter bouncing off the walls like she belonged there.
Wanted to kiss her, touch her, wrap her up and breathe her in.
And yeah, maybe I crossed some lines. Maybe I scared her.
But fuck, I couldn’t help myself. Something about Georgia Walker makes me feel alive.
Hopeful for shit I gave up on a long time ago.
When she’s near, I lose my mind a little bit, and fuck me, I love the way that feels.
I fixed her tire after she disappeared toward the supply shed with my mom.
Then I waited around longer than I needed to—pretending I had things to do.
Truth is, I was hoping to catch sight of her again.
Say something that didn’t come out wrapped in sex or sarcasm.
Ask her what the real reason she agreed to help with my mom’s project is.
She really just being a good, kind hearted woman, picking up the slack people like me are leaving behind, or was she secretly hoping to run into me?
Wanted to ask her more than anything else, but Georgia’s smart. And if I had to guess, she was watching too. Waiting for me to leave.
The second I got called into the bathroom reno, she slipped in, got her keys, and slipped back out without a word.
Haven’t seen her since.
But I haven’t stopped thinking about her either.
“Really is nice down here,” Griffin says, breaking the silence. “Hell of a lot nicer than back home.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, taking it in. “I’ve missed it.”
He gives me a sidelong glance. “You happy to be back?”
We cross the street, passing Slab Happy , and a laugh slips free. “Where else can you find a butcher and party supply store in one?”
“Small towns are weird as fuck.”
I arch a brow at him. “You’re the one who wants to move here.”
After three weeks, his comment to uproot his life— and Wilder’s —hasn’t gone by the wayside like I thought it would. If anything, Griff is more convinced than ever.
He’s already talking about looking for a place to live, how long it’ll take him to sell off his small plot in the country back home and get his horses here.
“Time for a change,” he says simply with a shrug. “Nothing keeping me back there anymore.”
I hear the words he’s not saying, but I don’t push for more. He’s not like Wilder—when Griffin Sterling doesn’t want to talk about something, there’s no amount of prying, alcohol or otherwise, that’ll get him to open up.
Wilder, on the other hand, needs a half a beer, a pat on the back, and a little bit of willing silence, and the floodgates inevitably spill open.
“What about work?” I ask, changing the subject. “JP was pissed when I quit. If you seriously move here, you gonna stay at Iron Shield?”
Griffin grins, green eyes twinkling. “I quit the same day as you.”
I stop cold in the middle of the sidewalk and gape at him.
“So did Wild,” he tacks on, rolling back on his boots.
I stare at the man I’ve looked up to since I was eighteen—my mentor, my brother in every way that matters, the guy who stepped in when my dad couldn’t, and for the first time in the decade I’ve known him, he’s actually managed to shock me speechless.
Griff slaps my back and chuckles. “Knew that one would short-circuit your system.”
“The fuck?” I run my fingers through my beard, brain spinning. “What the hell are you gonna do for work? You love private security.”
Like me, Griffin saved up a hell of a lot of his money over the years. But a nasty divorce left him with the farm he fought tooth and nail to keep and not much else. She got the vehicles, half the savings, and a monthly check big enough to make him cry. He needs the job.
He studies me with that long, assessing look of his—the one that always makes me feel like I’m under a microscope. “Do you love it?”
“Yeah,” I answer automatically, but the word feels wrong in my mouth. “Truth is, JP’s company is a mess of politics and power trips. I wanted to quit long before all this.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“You and Wilder,” I admit. “Didn’t wanna leave you behind.” Then I frown. “Why are we talking about me? I already quit.”
Griff shrugs. “I needed to know if you still cared about the work. Protecting people. Makin’ a difference. Just without all the red tape and ego bullshit. If the scale was smaller, would you still want it?”
“I can’t leave town, Griff.” My voice drops, rough with the weight of truth. “Not now. Not when I’m this close to bringing Aurora home.”
“You’re gonna make one hell of a dad, man,” he murmurs, grinning. “Damn proud of you.”
My throat tightens.
He lets me sit with it for a beat, then gestures down Oak Street toward the block where a couple of the bigger buildings sit empty, “What if you didn’t have to leave?”
I glance where he’s looking, then shove my hands in my pockets.
Haven’t thought much about what comes next—haven’t had time to. These last few weeks without Aurora wrecked me. After spending every day with her, not seeing her feels like losing her before she’s even mine.
I’d do just about anything to bring that little girl home, but that doesn’t mean I’m not terrified about what’s to come.
Most nights, I don’t sleep.
When I do, the nightmares come—some from my time overseas, but most about her.
My brain fills in the blanks I’ll never know—how the accident happened, what it looked like, what she remembers.
Sometimes, it’s me behind the wheel. Sometimes, she gets hurt because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with a car seat.
I wake up drenched in sweat, heart pounding, terrified I’ll fail her.
Then I remember why I’m doing this.
The way she curled into me. How her little hand fit in mine like it was always meant to be there. The trust in her eyes, and the bond we built, in just a handful of days.