Page 77 of Saving it with My Best Friend's Brother

“They were trying to save the entire valley.” Hunter’s voice carried a thick emotion beside me.

“And they did.” Sandra raised another document, this one newer. “Their evidence didn’t die with them. It’s been building, case by case, state by state. Morrison’s arrest is just the beginning.”

Taylor wiped tears, the firelight catching moisture on her cheeks. “They knew the risks.”

“That’s why Mom left those letters.” I touched her bracelet, understanding deeper now. “Why your mom had to disappear until it was safe. They were protecting more than just us.”

Hunter’s kiss landed soft but fierce on my cheek. “Like mother, like daughter.”

“Speaking of protection,” Van interrupted gently, cradling sleeping Chad, “time to show them the real surprise.”

The sight on the front steps stole my breath. Hundreds filled Pine Haven’s grounds, holding candles that flickered like earthbound stars. Families who’d vacationed here for generations. Kids from Van’s baseball program. Local business owners. All standing together, their light pushing back the darkness.

Through tears, I watched Michael and Dad join Katherine Miller at the crowd’s edge. Three people who’d carried guilt for so long, finally stepping into light. Mountain air carried pine and possibility.

Hunter’s arms wrapped around me from behind, solid and sure. “Ready?”

I turned in his embrace, seeing my own emotions reflected in his eyes. Love, hope, and future stretching before us. “Ready.”

As we joined our family on the steps, as candlelight spread across Pine Haven’s grounds like dawn breaking, I finally understood what Mom had always said about this place.

It wasn’t just a resort.

It wasn’t just a legacy.

It was home.

And standing there, surrounded by love, light, and community, I knew whatever came next, we’d face it together.

Chapter Twenty

Hunter

Amelia directed cleanup crews through Pine Haven’s lobby, her natural leadership shining even through bone-deep exhaustion. Early morning light caught gold in her hair as she guided workers around historic beams being reinforced, somehow making dust and construction look like a dance. When she caught me watching, her smile sent a flutter through my heart. Just like that first night, we’d worked late together.

“She’s remarkable.” Claire appeared at my elbow, site reports tucked under her arm radiating warmth from the printer. Her voice carried the same pride I felt watching Amelia kneel to explain restoration details to a curious child, making complicated processes sound like fairy tales.

“The Historical Society approved emergency restoration funding,” she added, shuffling papers with efficient movements.

“Of course they did.” Pride warmed my voice as Amelia’s hands traced the weathered wood, showing the same care her mother once had. “Nobody can resist her when she’s on a mission.”

Claire’s expression softened with understanding. “Your mother’s waiting in the old reading room. Taylor and Van are already there.”

My heart stumbled. After last night’s chaos, we hadn’t had a proper moment together. Having her back still felt like a dream I might wake from. “Would you?”

“I’ll keep Amelia busy,” she promised, moving toward her friend with purposeful steps. “Take your time.”

The reading room held my earliest memories—Mom bringing stories alive from the old leather chair while Dad talked business with the Hortons by the fireplace. Fifteen years hadn’t changed the scent of books and pine, or the way morning light painted warmth across wooden shelves. Now Mom sat in her favorite chair, silver hair catching sunbeams, both achingly familiar and startlingly new.

“Mom.” The word caught in my throat, fifteen years of missing her compressed into that single syllable.

She turned, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Hunter.” Her voice carried all the love she’d held from afar.

Three strides closed the distance between us. She felt smaller in my arms than my memory painted her, but her embrace held the same fierce strength. Her perfume—the one she’d worn throughout my childhood—mixed with fresh mountain air from the open window, bridging past and present.

“My boy,” she whispered against my shoulder, tears warming my shirt. “My brave, wonderful boy.”

“Uncle Hunter’s not crying, is he?” Taylor’s voice cracked as she joined our embrace, Van beside her with Chad. My sister’s tears broke whatever control I’d been clinging to.

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