Page 87 of Saving Her Heart
"Never," I confirm, wrapping my arm around her. "But would we want them to?"
She considers this. "No. I guess not."
As we walk to my truck, past the news vans and reporters, I feel something settle into place. Justice was served. The town is rebuilding. And Kendall and I have our second chance.
"Hey," I say, stopping her before we get in the truck. "It's over. Really over."
"I know," she says, and for the first time, she looks truly at peace.
"So what now?" I ask.
"Now?" She grins. "Now we go home. Our home. And figure out where to hang that neon sign."
"Really?" I ask, shocked.
"No," she laughs. "It's still hideous. But I love you for trying."
I kiss her right there in the courthouse parking lot, not caring who sees. We've earned this moment, this peace, this future.
Tomorrow, Building 3 construction continues. The residents will slowly return. Life will go back to normal, or as normal as it gets in Hibiscus Harbor.
But today, we won. And that's enough.
Chapter 17
Kendall
Three months after the trial, I'm sitting across from Charli at The Greenhouse Café, watching her demolish a stack of pancakes while somehow maintaining perfect lipstick. It's seven-thirty in the morning, and she's already put together like she's heading to a photo shoot instead of the kitchen at Hooplas.
"So," she says, pointing her fork at me, "are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?"
"What elephant?" I ask, taking a sip of coffee.
"The one where you and Jax have been living together for three months and there's no ring on that finger," she says bluntly.
I nearly choke on my coffee. "We just moved in together. Why would there be a ring?"
"Because you've been in love with each other since you were sixteen?" she suggests. "Because you lost ten years and aren't getting any younger? Because that man looks at you like you hung the moon?"
"It's complicated," I say, pushing my eggs around my plate.
"No, it's not," Charli counters. "You love him. He loves you. What's complicated about that?"
"We're still figuring things out," I tell her. "Learning how to be together again."
"Bull," she says. "You're scared."
I look up at her, ready to argue, but she's right. She's always right when it comes to reading me.
"Maybe I am," I admit quietly.
"Of what?" she asks, her voice gentler now.
"Of rushing things. Of ruining it. Of..." I pause, trying to find the right words. "Of wanting it too much."
Charli reaches across the table and takes my hand. "Kendall, honey, you can't want love too much. That's not how it works."
"Isn't it?" I ask. "What if we get engaged and then realize we moved too fast? What if we're trying so hard to make up for lost time that we're forcing something?"
