Page 63 of The Man in the Cottage

Savannah makes a sound—a scoff, maybe, or a choked laugh. "So that's it? You're choosing some random woman over your family?"

"I'm choosing someone who actually cares about me. Yeah." I turn back to face the room. "And I'm done, Savannah. With you, with Mom, with all of it. Don't contact Kelly again. Don't show up at her house. Don't send emails trying to sabotage my relationship. If you do, I'll cut you off completely. No more money, no more favors, nothing."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The line goes quiet. I can hear her breathing, can practically feel her calculating her next move.

"Fine," she says finally. "Have it your way. But don't come crawling back when she breaks your heart."

"Goodbye, Savannah."

I hang up before she can respond.

The kitchen is very quiet. Kelly is still standing by the table, her arms wrapped around herself, her face unreadable.

"Well," she says. "That was intense."

"Yeah." I set the phone down and lean against the counter, suddenly exhausted. The adrenaline is draining out of me, leaving something hollow behind. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"Don't be. I'm glad I did." She crosses to me and takes my hands. "You defended me. You defended us."

"Of course I did."

"It wasn't a of course. Most people wouldn't have done that. Most people would have tried to keep the peace, smooth things over." She squeezes my hands. "You chose me."

"I'll always choose you."

The words come out before I can think about them. But I mean them. I mean them more than I've meant anything in a long time.

Kelly's eyes go soft. "Travis."

"I know it's fast. I know we've only been doing this for a few weeks. But I'm not confused about how I feel." I pull her closer. "You're it for me, Kelly. Whatever happens with my family, with hockey, with any of it—you're the thing I'm sure about."

She rises on her toes and kisses me, her hands sliding up my chest to curl around my neck. It's soft and fierce at the same time, a promise and a question wrapped together.

"I'm sure about you too," she says against my lips.

We stand there for a moment, just holding each other. Then she pulls back and looks up at me.

"Are you okay? That was a lot. The stuff about your grandmother, the meeting..."

"I'm okay." I'm not sure if it's true, but I want it to be. "It felt good, actually. To say all of it out loud. I've been carrying that around for months."

"She really said you weren't there for your grandmother?"

"Yeah. And the thing is, she knows the truth. She knows I was there every day. But she doesn't care about the truth—she cares about winning." I shake my head. "That's how my family operates. Everything is a competition. Everything is about leverage."

"That sounds exhausting."

"It is. That's why I stopped playing." I guide her back to the table, to the cold pasta and the candles that have burned halfway down. "Sit. Let's eat. I don't want to let her ruin our dinner."

"It's probably cold by now."

"I don't care. You made it. That's what matters."

We sit and eat the lukewarm pasta, and somehow it tastes better than anything I've had in years. Maybe because Kelly made it. Maybe because we're on the other side of something hard and we made it through. Maybe both.