Chapter 20
J.T
We walk hand in hand into Thatcher’s backyard, and everything detonates at once.
First, Thatcher clocks it.
That sharp, protective gaze of his drops straight to our joined hands.
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say a word.
Second, Evan sees it.
And unlike his uncle—who just files it away for later—the kid reacts.
He charges me.
Full force.
The shove to my gut isn’t light, either.
The boy’s got size and anger behind him.
“Get away from my mom!” Evan yells, and Kelly jumps in fast, grabbing his shoulders.
“Evan! What’s come over you? Stop it right now!”
But he’s past hearing her.
He’s yelling, crying, swinging.
So I move.
Not away.
In front of her.
I plant myself between Evan and Kelly and take the brunt of the boy’s temper without hesitation.
There’s a sound behind me—Kelly’s breath catching, breaking—and something ugly twists low in my gut at the pain in it.
She tries to push past me, but I don’t budge.
Not because I’m blocking her. I’m not trying to do that.
But I am shielding her. I’m not about to let either of them get hurt.
He’s young. Ten, she said. Tall for his age. Built long and solid like Thatcher. And he’s got fire in him.
Just like his mother.
This kind of behavior? It wouldn’t fly in boardrooms or at one of my development galas.
But this isn’t a boardroom.
This is a scared kid who thinks the ground under his feet is crumbling.
So I let him swing.
The first few hits land square in my ribs. Then my stomach.
They’re not light.
The kid’s got some power behind him.
But I’ve taken worse from men twice my size on job sites.
What gets me isn’t the impact.
It’s the fury.
The betrayal in it.
The fear.
“Evan!” Thatcher shouts, already moving in hot.
“No,” I bark over my shoulder, not taking my eyes off the boy. “I’ve got it.”
This is delicate as hell.
And yeah—technically? It’s not my place yet.
But I’m not letting that kid accidentally shove Kelly to the ground in the middle of his meltdown.
“Easy, son. Easy,” I say, hands open at my sides.
Not grabbing him. Not restraining him. Just absorbing.
“I’m not your son!” he screams, another fist thudding into my gut.
“That’s fair,” I reply, steady as stone. “You’ve got a mom and a dad. I know that.”
He swings again.
I don’t flinch.
“But if you keep swinging like that,” I continue calmly, “you might accidentally hurt your mom.”
That gets through. Just a crack.
“And I don’t think you want that, Evan. Do you?”
His fist stalls midair.
His breathing is ragged. Face red. Eyes glassy.
Behind him, I can feel Kelly shaking.
And I swear to God, if Mike Stevens were standing here right now, feeding this fear into his kid—I’d break his jaw in a heartbeat.
But this isn’t about him. It’s about the boy in front of me.
I lower my voice.
“You’re mad,” I say quietly. “That’s okay. You get to be mad. But you can’t let your anger take control, or you might hurt someone. Yourself. Your mom. And I know that’s not what you want.”
He swallows hard.
“I’m not here to take anyone’s place,” I add, rough but honest. “I’m here because I care about her. And you are the most important thing to your mom, so that means I care about you, too.”
That’s when I see it.
Not just anger. Terror.
And that’s something I know how to handle.
I’ve built empires from dirt and steel. I can damn well build trust with a scared kid.
Even if I have to take a few more punches to do it.
But what I said about hurting his mom? That stops him.
Immediately.
That tightness in my chest loosens. He’s a good boy.
How could he not be?
His head snaps toward Kelly. She’s crying now, a lot. And that undoes him faster than anything.
She pushes past me then, and I don’t stop her this time. Her arms are wide open.
The boy launches at her, nearly knocking her over.
They start to fall. But I move fast. I wrap an arm around her waist, brace with my other hand, and take the impact so they don’t hit the ground hard.
“You’re my mom!” Evan sobs into her shoulder. “Mine! I don’t want you going away from me! I don’t want to live with Grams and Gramps!”
My blood runs cold.
“What are you talking about, baby?” Kelly whispers, her voice breaking. “I’m not going anywhere. Who said that? What happened this weekend?”
Thatcher and Willow stand off to the side. Willow’s hand is at her mouth.
Thatcher looks like he’s about two seconds from committing a felony.
Same.
“Grams and Gramps said Dad’s living in Arizona,” Evan chokes out. “And that he’s gonna take you to court for money for his new wife. That he doesn’t really love you or me. And they said th-that you aren’t fit to raise me and they’re gonna take me away! Mommy, I don’t want to live with them!”
Rage fills me.
Pure, nuclear fucking rage.
Mike Stevens is lucky he’s not standing in front of me right now.
Because I would absolutely put him on his ass.
That goes for Paul Stevens, too, that pompous ass.
Kelly is shaking.
“Evan, sweetheart, that’s not true. Daddy loves you—”
“No! They said you’re single now and you’ll probably find some man to keep you, and that makes you unfit! And he was holding your hand!”
He glares at me.
Same blue eyes as his mother.
And it hits me hard.
This kid isn’t jealous.
He’s scared.
Terrified because his family is falling apart around him.
And I don’t blame him.
Not one bit.
I crouch down so I’m eye level with him.
“Evan,” I say calmly. Firm. “I was holding your mom’s hand because I care about her very much. I care about you, too. And I don’t want to take her from you. That’s not my plan.”
He sniffs. “You’re not gonna take her? Then what is your plan?”
I don’t hesitate.
“I plan to marry her,” I say. “Your mom is going to be my wife. That means you’re going to be my family. And I promise you—I am never going to let anybody take her from you. And I am never going to let anyone take you from her, either.”
Silence.
He studies me like he’s trying to spot the lie.
“You’d be my stepdad then?” he asks warily. “What if you don’t like me? Stepdads never like the kids in the movies.”
“This isn’t a movie,” I say. “And I already like you.”
That earns me a squint.
“Well,” he mutters, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, “I’ll think about whether you can marry my mom or not.”
A corner of my mouth twitches.
“Fair enough,” I tell him. “I appreciate the consideration.”
Kelly lets out a shaky laugh through tears.
But inside?
Inside, I am ice.
Mike Stevens and his father have been whispering poison into Kelly’s son’s ear.
And that’s not going to stand.
Because no, I don’t just want Kelly.
I need her.
I want her steady. Confident. Untouchable.
And I want this kid to know that when I say he’s not going anywhere, it’s not some sweet line to get into his mother’s bed.
It’s a promise.
I’m old enough to know what those mean.
And I don’t half-build anything.
Not houses.
Not developments.
And not families.
Mike Stevens hurt them.
That was his first mistake.
Trying to scare that boy with court threats and bullshit?
That might be his last.
Because I don’t back down.
And I don’t let anyone fuck with what’s mine.