Page 137 of Fixing to Be Mine

She tilts her head. “Like, how much money?”

“A couple million.”

She looks surprised but also impressed.

“I invested some too,” I explain, grabbing her hand. “So, we don’t need your money.”

“It’s a cherry on top then,” she says with a laugh. “I plan to give a lot away. Maybe start a nonprofit that restores homes for those who need extra help.”

“You’d do that?” I ask.

She smiles wide. “I found myself surrounded by half-finished walls, Colt. I rebuilt my life here, and I have more than enough funds to make a huge difference. More than either of us could ever spend.Billions.We have the ability to positively change lives and living situations by remodeling homes, so why not?”

I place my hands on her cheeks and kiss her like tomorrow might never come. “You’re incredible. I’m so damn lucky to have someone so generous and caring by my side.”

“I’m the lucky one,” she whispers.

I take her hand and lead her past the living room, down the short hallway, toward the front half of the house.

We stop at the door of what used to be the main storage room for extra wood and supplies. She raises an eyebrow, waiting.

I push it open.

The space is brighter than it used to be. Inside is a hand-carved wooden desk, a nice chair, and a lamp. I had my brothers move the furniture in while we were gone. There is even a fluffy rug beneath our feet.

Stormy steps inside slowly, her fingertips grazing the edge of the window trim. “You did this?”

I nod. “Figured you might need a place to plan your dreams. We could also make it a partial art studio. Set an easel by the window. If you were serious about learning to paint.”

She turns back to face me, eyes wide, like she’s still in shock. “You did this for me?”

I shrug, suddenly a little self-conscious. “Of course.”

She throws her arms around my neck. I catch her instinctively, lifting her just enough off the ground that her toes skim the floor.

“This is perfect. Thank you,” she whispers into my shoulder. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

I’ve never been thanked for anything that felt this simple. But her voice? It makes me want to build her a hundred more rooms.

This isn’t just a space for her to call her own. It’s the beginning.

We linger in the office for a few minutes after she pulls away, neither of us saying much. We stand in that sunlit room, knowing it will hold pieces of the life we’re building.

Eventually, I nod toward the porch. “You want to sit out for a bit?”

She smiles. “Always.”

We make our way to the front door, her hand tucked lightly in mine. The morning breeze is mellow. We step outside, and the boards creak beneath our feet.

She sinks into the swing first, and I drop beside her and stretch one arm along the backrest. She leans into me automatically.

The air smells like fresh-cut grass, and in the distance, I can hear the horses.

I’m about to speak when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Stormy looks up at me, eyebrows raised.

It’s a text from my mom.

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