Chapter 21
Kelly
“How is he?” J.T. asks when I slip out of Evan’s temporary bedroom in the tiny log cabin we’re renting for the season.
“He’s asleep.”
The words come out softer than I intend.
Relief washes through me first.
Then anxiety follows right behind it like a shadow I can’t shake.
Because now that the house is quiet—now that my son isn’t crying and clinging to me—I have space to think.
And thinking is dangerous.
I love Evan more than anything in the world. No question. No comparisons.
My son means everything to me.
And this fight with my ex and his family? Well, it’s getting complicated.
I look at J.T. standing there in this small, rented space that feels nothing like his sprawling mountain mansion, and I wonder if I’m doing the right thing.
If dragging him into my chaos is fair.
If he really understands what marrying me means.
A custody fight.
Courtrooms.
Accusations.
Mike’s bitterness.
His parents butting in.
And Evan’s fear.
“Made you some tea,” he says, pulling me out of my spiral.
That’s when I notice it.
The tray set up in front of the fire like something out of a damn magazine.
A steaming teapot.
Jar of honey.
Bowl of sugar.
Sliced lemons.
A tiny creamer filled to the brim.
My throat tightens.
Evan is big for his age, tall and strong like his uncle, but ten is still so young. Young enough that the world should feel safe. Young enough that he shouldn’t have to carry fear in his chest the way he clearly does.
And I would never—never—do anything that might hurt my son.
But standing here now, watching the storm of emotions on his face, I can’t help wondering if I’m making a mistake.
Maybe I’m wrong to think I can just step into another relationship and somehow fix the damage Mike left behind.
Maybe I’m wrong to involve J.T. in this at all.
The thought twists in my chest because when I think about the weekend we just spent together… it felt so right.
And I don’t just mean the sex—though, God, that part alone would’ve been enough to make my head spin for a week.
It’s everything else.
The quiet moments.
The way he seemed to know when I wanted to talk and when I just needed to be held.
The way he’d pull me against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world to keep me there.
How he made coffee in the morning before I even climbed out of bed.
How he cooked for me. Brought me drinks. Checked to see if I was warm enough when the mountain air got chilly.
Took care of me.
It’s such a simple thing, but it feels enormous after years of doing everything alone.
After years of being told I was too much. Too emotional. Too needy.
J.T. doesn’t treat me like that.
With him, I feel… Steady. Wanted. Safe.
He’s a really good man.
No, he’s a great one.
And the truth I don’t quite know what to do with is that I care about him.
More than I should.
More than makes sense after such a short time.
It’s too fast. Anyone with half a brain would say so.
But my heart didn’t get the memo.
Still, caring about him doesn’t mean I get to ignore the reality standing right in front of me.
Evan. My son comes first. He has to. Always.
And I can’t let him feel like he’s losing me too. Not after what his father’s done.
At the same time, the thought of walking away from J.T.—of shutting the door on what we’ve started—makes something inside me ache.
Because he doesn’t deserve that either.
He’s done nothing but show up.
Nothing but offer us a future.
Which leaves me stuck right here in the middle of two things I care about more than I ever expected to at the same time.
I swallow hard, drawing in a breath that feels like it scrapes my lungs on the way down.
I can’t keep standing here frozen.
I need to talk to him. Really talk.
So I gather my nerve, lift my chin, and turn toward J.T. before I lose it again.
He’s standing on the other side of the tiny log cabin, framed by the soft glow of the fire and the last wash of daylight slipping through the window.
Beyond that glass, the mountain is alive. Spring has taken over completely.
The snow is gone from the lower slopes, replaced by stubborn green pushing up through the earth. Pine trees stand dark and steady against a sky streaked with lavender and gold. There’s a soft mist rising from the valley, and somewhere in the distance, a bird calls—sharp and clear.
The air feels new. Like everything is waking up again.
And inside this cabin, so am I.
My heart starts pounding as I take him in.
He just exudes power. He’s big. Broad. Solid as the mountain itself.
And I don’t give a shit what anyone says about age. I know he’s older—but J.T. is every bit as fit and fine as men half his age.
More so if you ask me.
There’s something about a man who knows exactly who he is.
A man who doesn’t preen. Someone who doesn’t posture and beg for attention. Or chase approval like a dog chasing an ambulance.
God, Mike was like that. Looking for anyone and everyone to qualify and validate his behavior. Even with the divorce, it was all my fault, according to him.
If only I hadn’t been so—me.
Mike wouldn’t have needed to stray. Or lie. Or steal.
What a fucking prick.
I didn’t deserve any of what Mike did to me, and I know that. Neither did Evan.
And J.T. doesn’t deserve to have to deal with all my shitty baggage either.
But he seems to want to. And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to walk away from everything he’s offering.
Everything about J.T. screams power and control. But he’s not a bully. He doesn’t shrink himself. And he doesn’t ask me to shrink either.
This man could be at home in his glass-and-iron palace, looking down over the valley like some rugged king surveying his kingdom.
Instead, he’s here.
In this tiny, slightly drafty cabin with mismatched furniture and creaky floors, waiting for me with tea.
That hits me harder than anything else tonight.
I nod and move toward him, lowering myself into the worn armchair across from the fire.
He pours without asking if I want it.
Like he already knows I do.
I add honey. A splash of cream.
He tilts his head, watching me with that quiet curiosity he gets when he’s trying to figure me out.
“Don’t knock it till you try it,” I murmur, my voice softer now.
“Fair enough,” he murmurs, and his sexy gravel voice rolls through me like a siren’s song.
He copies me exactly.
I watch him take a sip—and I have no idea why but the movement of his throat as he swallows is enough to make my panties soaked.
Then, he raises his eyebrows like he’s genuinely surprised.
Outside, the wind stirs the budding branches. The mountain smells like thawing earth and pine, and possibility.
Inside, it smells like wood smoke and citrus and him.
He takes a sip and raises his brows in mild surprise.
I almost smile.
Because even in the middle of legal threats and custody fears and my son’s heartbreak—there’s this.
Compassion.
Companionship.
Warmth.
Tea.
A real man who stayed.
And I realize the mountain isn’t the only thing that’s changing with the season. So am I.
“This really is good,” he says, interrupting my thoughts as he sips his honey cream tea one more time.
I snort softly.
“I didn’t earn my size sixteen ass by not knowing when things taste good.”
His gaze drops to said ass for half a second and darkens, but he doesn’t comment.
That restraint? It’s almost impressive.
“J.T., I think we need to talk.”
His green eyes narrow.
“No.”
I blink. “What?”
“No,” he repeats, calm but firm. “We don’t need to talk. Wedding’s in three weeks, Honey. You signed the papers. It’s as good as done.”
My stomach flips. “But J.T., this legal battle is going to be a mess.”
I hate how my voice wobbles.
“So? I can handle it.”
“You say that, but it’s going to be a lot. And I don’t want you caught in it. I don’t want your name dragged through mud because of me. Because of Mike. I don’t want you waking up one day and thinking—”
“And thinking what?” he asks quietly.
“That I’m too much trouble,” I whisper.
There it is.
The ugly thought I’ve been chewing on since Evan shoved him.
Maybe I am too much.
Too loud.
Too emotional.
Too complicated.
Single mom with baggage and drama and an ex who fights dirty.
“Kelly, look at me. It’s gonna be fine,” he says, like it’s not even a question.
Then his tone shifts, softer but unyielding.
“Now get your fine ass out of that seat and come over here where you belong, Honey.”
I hesitate.
Just for a second.
Then I stand.
Because how can I not?
He tugs gently, guiding me down onto his lap. His arms wrap around me—big, and warm, and solid.
I melt into him.
I allow myself this space, this time to simply be, and it’s everything.
J.T.’s heartbeat thuds between us—strong, steady, constant.
And I press my face into his shoulder and breathe him in.
He smells like pine trees and Ivory soap. And something else that’s masculine and sexy and entirely him.
He doesn’t demand anything.
Doesn’t kiss me.
Doesn’t turn it sexual.
Not yet.
He just holds me.
Like I’m not a problem to solve.
Like I’m not an inconvenience.
Like I’m worth protecting.
“You think I don’t know what I’m signing up for?” he murmurs against my hair.
“I think you’re used to winning,” I admit. “But I’m not sure this is something you can just bulldoze.”
He huffs softly.
“Maybe and maybe not. But I’m not afraid of a fight.”
“I am,” I whisper.
His grip tightens just slightly.
“I’ll protect you, Honey.”
“But who will protect you? J.T., really, this might be too much even for you,” I confess.
And for some reason, it feels like my heart is breaking.
“Kelly, all this stuff, you, none of it is too much,” he says, voice low and steady. “You’re exactly enough. And your son? He’s scared. That’s not drama. That’s a kid who loves his mother. A kid who needs stability.”
Tears sting my eyes.
“I don’t want to ruin your life, J.T.,” I confess.
He leans back just enough to look at me.
“Kelly,” he says firmly, “you are not ruining anything. You’re building something new. With me. And it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”
My chest aches.
Because I don’t know if I believe I deserve that.
But sitting here in his lap, wrapped in his arms, feeling his heartbeat steady under my ear—for the first time since this whole mess started—I feel like maybe I’m not dragging him into chaos.
Maybe we’re walking into it together.
And the way he’s holding me right now?
This absolutely perfect hug we’re sharing?
Well, it just might be the sexiest thing we’ve done yet.
Because it feels like staying.
Not just passion.
Not just heat.
Staying.