Page 33 of Kellan & Emmett
The question wasn’t light. Wasn’t casual. It landed between us like he was testing the ground before stepping onto it.
I swallowed, my tongue thick in my mouth. “Yeah,” I said finally. “I mean it.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just stood there, shoulders tense, like he couldn’t quite believe I wasn’t about to yank the offer back. The silence stretched long enough that I had to fight the urge to fill it, to take it back before it turned into something I couldn’t live with.
“Are you sure this isn’t you just… being polite?”
My laugh was short, rough in my throat. “Polite would’ve been handing you a bill and wishing you luck.”
His mouth curved—small, almost reluctant, but real.
And damn me, my chest eased at the sight.
That almost-smile flickered and my chest clenched hard, traitor heart lurching like it remembered exactly how it used to feel to put it there.
Idiot. Don’t go soft now. This is the same man who left without a word, who stayed gone for twenty years.
I dug my nails into my palms, tried to remind myself what I’d already decided a hundred times: this is temporary. A summer, maybe less. He’s not staying.
But even as the warning repeated in my head, another voice cut through, quieter, meaner:Then why does it feel so damn good to have him standing here, looking at you like he wants to believe you?
My throat worked, dry as dust. I forced myself not to look away.
His gaze lingered on me, steady enough that I had to fight the urge to shift under it. For a second, I thought he might brush it off, make a joke, pretend he didn’t hear me.
“Do you really mean that?”
I swallowed, pulse hammering. “Yeah, I mean it.”
A beat passed. “Then… alright,” he said at last. “I’ll stay.”
Relief flared sharp in my chest, loosening something I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. But fear came right on its heels, cold and tight, hissing that I’d just opened the door to getting gutted again.
A part of me wanted to believe that his time here wouldn’t be temporary.
My mouth was dry, but I managed a nod, small, measured. “Good,” I said, even though my voice didn’t carry half of what tangled inside me.
Because the truth was, nothing about this was simple. Not the relief, or the fear, or the way just standing here with him, made it feel like twenty years of silence hadn’t burned us all the way down.
June 1st
There’s a difference between being adrift and being anchored. I thought I knew which one I was, but maybe I’m somewhere in between.
It’s strange, how one honest word can shift the ground beneath you. For years, I’ve carried the weight of silence, convinced it was safer than admitting I was lost. Yesterday I said it out loud. Today, the air feels different—lighter in places, heavier in others. I don’t know if that’s hope, or just the danger of letting myself want something I’m not sure I deserve.
—K
Chapter 18
Kellan
First morning on the job—if you could even call it that because there was no paycheck. Just me pulling my weight in exchange for a roof over my head. It was Emmett’s idea, though the way he’d said it—calm, measured—made it sound less like a suggestion and more like another line in the sand.Stay, but prove you belong here.
And maybe I wanted that. Maybe I needed someone to hold me to something, because for months now, I hadn’t belonged anywhere.
The morning started quieter than I expected. No kids tearing across the grass, no reunion chatter spilling from the dining room. Just the soft creak of old wood and the faint clink of dishes from the kitchen where Heather and Sophia were already at it.
Emmett didn’t waste time with greetings. He gestured toward a broom as soon as I came down the stairs, his expression steady but not unfriendly.
