Page 95 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

I learned how to hide things while living an outwardly normal life, but now it’s time to reveal what was going on behind closed doors. The thought of looking into the eyes of the men and women who have worked with Father and Uncle Marty for so long and telling them everything makes this tie feel more like a noose.

It chokes me, threatens to take my breath and my ability to speak my truth. I reach up and tug at it again, undoing the knot I tied so easily, even after all this time.

Muscle memory is such a strange thing—I wore so many ties and so many suits like this to so many functions in my eighteen years in that house that it all came flooding back to me as soon as my hands touched the silk.

Lyla slips around me, keeping her arms locked around my waist, and stares up, those gold flecks in her eyes shimmering with the same affection that was there last night.

She reaches up and runs her fingers through my beard. “I’m glad you didn’t shave this in your attempt to look more clean-cut.”

I smirk at her. “Why? You like the beard?”

A grin plays on her lips, and she nods. “I do very much.”

“Duly noted.”

“And I really do like the suit.” She pulls her head back slightly to examine the coat. “They got you sized pretty well.”

I nod and roll my shoulders—the fabric is tight and uncomfortable compared to what I normally work in. “Close enough that it’ll work. I should go take this off so it still looks good in the morning.”

“You want some help?”

The promise in her question makes my cock stir to life between us. “I would say yes, but I feel like this suit would end up in a pile on the floor and be very wrinkled tomorrow.”

She fights a grin and presses her hand over my heart. “You’re probably right.”

Her gaze darts to the window, and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, like she’s biting something back.

I tug her back up against me fully. “What is it?”

Lyla returns her attention to me. “I was just wondering if there’s anywhere you want to go tonight, a favorite restaurant from when you were a kid, anything you want to see? Should we drive past Bolton Steel or the mansion?”

My spine stiffens again, and the mood instantly shifts. I release a heavy sigh, which makes Whiskey push against me tighter at my side. “You know I own that house now?”

Her brows fly up. “You do?”

I nod. “The trust left the house to me, so Uncle Marty is technically a squatter.”

The green in her eyes sharpens. “So, kick him out.”

As if it would ever be that easy with him.

Staring down at her, it’s impossible not to see her determination and want to believe we will succeed. “Tomorrow.”

“As part of the meeting, you make sure it’s clear that he’s not allowed in that house anymore. I mean, hopefully, the bastard gets taken into custody, right?”

I nod again. “That’s the plan.”

“So, as soon as that meeting’s over, we go to the mansion and we clean out all of his stuff, have a fucking bonfire with it. We eliminateanyevidence he was ever there. Either he will be in jail, or he’ll have to watch all his possessionsburn.”

I contemplate her suggestion.

With everything else going on, I hadn’t even thought about going by the house. That place holds the worst memories. It isn’t home and hasn’t been for a very long time, if it ever really was.

Home is that mountain.

It’s those woods.

It’s that cabin.

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