Chapter 31
Kelly
My heart is racing so hard I can hear it in my ears.
The Lunchroom still smells like coffee and fresh muffins and sawdust drifting in from the yard. Outside the big front windows, I can see the stacks of timber lined up neat and proud, the mountains of Woodhaven rising behind them like they’ve stood watch over my entire life.
This place.
The mill.
The mountain air.
The sound of trucks rumbling over gravel and the steady hum of machinery cutting through pine.
It’s home.
It has always been home.
And for a while there, Mike tried to take that from me.
Not just the money. Not just the house.
He tried to take my footing. My sense of belonging. He made me feel like I was small and foolish and lucky to be chosen. Like without him I’d be adrift.
Standing here now, with the mountains visible through the window and the mill running smooth behind me, I realize something sharp and clear—I was never adrift.
He was.
And when he left, he didn’t just abandon us.
He tried to strip me of this place too. He tried to make me doubt that I deserved it.
The very thought of him marching into my Lunchroom, using Evan’s name like a weapon, criticizing my life as if he still had a say—it makes my stomach churn.
He doesn’t want Evan.
Not the way he claims.
He wants control. He wants to matter again.
But the thing is, he doesn’t.
Not here.
Not anymore.
He has no claim on me whatsoever, and he knows it now too because J.T. Lawrence walked through that door and he laid it all out for him.
Like the protector he is.
And the second J.T. showed up like that, something inside me steadied.
He didn’t shout or posture for show.
He stood there like a wall. Like the mountain itself had grown legs and decided to stand guard.
I probably shouldn’t like the way he handled it. I shouldn’t get all hot and bothered by the way he stepped in front of me or the way his voice dropped low and dangerous when he warned Mike off.
It was heavy. Possessive.
A little terrifying.
But the truth?
I loved it.
Because for once, someone didn’t make me feel like I was this albatross. Like I was a crutch, or worse, just something they settled for.
J.T. didn’t take my voice. He didn’t silence me.
He simply made it clear that I am not alone anymore.
And, Jesus Christ, that feels incredible.
When his hand closes around mine, it’s not a cage.
It’s an anchor.
Solid.
Warm.
Steady.
I trust him.
Not because he’s loud. Or big. Or rich. And not because he’s powerful.
But because when he looks at me, I feel restored.
Whatever Mike tried to break in me? That’s all been put back together. And it’s tougher. Stronger. No longer available to him.
Because it’s not Mike’s anymore. It’s mine. And I have J.T. there to make sure it stays mine.
So, when J.T. asks softly if I’m okay, I nod—but the emotions are still flying through me.
Anger at Mike.
Revulsion at the thought of that teenage girl.
Protective panic over Evan.
And beneath it all, something molten and electric every time I look at the man standing beside me.
Before I can overthink it, I reach up, grab the back of J.T.’s head, and pull him down.
Our mouths collide.
The whistle that follows barely registers.
The mill hands can watch all they want.
Let them see.
Let them know.
This is my home.
This is my life.
Oh my God—I love him.
I am in love with J.T. Lawerence and I just figured that out.
“Take me home,” I whisper against his lips.
His green eyes darken, searching mine.
For hesitation.
For doubt.
He finds neither.
He nods once.
And we move.
The mountain air outside is crisp and clean, scented with pine and earth and distant woodsmoke. The sky over Woodhaven is that soft late-afternoon blue that always makes the ridgeline look painted on.
As we drive up the winding road toward his house, I watch the trees blur past and feel something settle deep in my chest.
This land. These mountains. The mill.
They are mine as much as they’ve ever been.
Mike didn’t take them.
He couldn’t.
J.T. doesn’t even try. He respects them—and me—too much for that. But he protects what matters to me.
And in doing that, he gave me back something I didn’t even realize I’d lost.
Peace.
So, when we pull into his driveway, he doesn’t hesitate. He rounds the truck, opens my door, and lifts me up like I weigh nothing.
J.T. just tosses me over his shoulder with easy strength, one big hand clamped between my legs as he moves with surety.
“J.T.!” I gasp, half laughing, half breathless.
He grunts and his hand slides higher up my thighs until they’re skimming my core, steady and sure.
“Almost there, Honey,” he rumbles.
The house rises ahead of us—glass and iron and timber blending into the mountain like it belongs there.
And maybe I do, too. Maybe I belong to this mountain, this home, this man—at least, I really fucking hope I do.
J.T. reaches for the door pad to punch in his security code and I jiggle a little on his shoulder.
“Ooh!”
“I got you. Just hold on to me,” he says.
And I do. I wrap my arms around him without hesitation.
And this time, I don’t feel like I’m being carried away from my life.
I feel like I’m being carried deeper into it.