Page 68 of The Man in the Cottage

Instead I got Travis. And with Travis came his family, his scandal, his complicated past. All the things that are now exploding across the internet with my name attached.

But I also got him. The quiet mornings. The easy conversations. The way he looks at me like I'm the only thing in the room that matters.

Is it worth it? All this pain, all this exposure, all this chaos—is it worth it for him?

I think about walking away. Really think about it. Going back to New York, getting a job, pretending the past few months never happened. It would be easy. Safe. No one would blame me for choosing self-preservation over a relationship that's barely two months old.

But I'd know. I'd know I ran when things got hard. I'd know I let his family win.

And I'd lose him. The best thing that's happened to me in years.

I pick up my phone and call my mother.

"Hey, Mom. I need to tell you something before you hear it somewhere else."

The conversation is long and painful and ends with my mother crying, which makes me cry, which accomplishes nothing but at least we're crying together. When I hang up, I feel wrung out, exhausted in a way that goes deeper than sleep can fix.

But I also feel something else. Something harder, fiercer.

I'm not running. I'm not giving up. I'm not letting his family define who I am or destroy what we're building.

They want a fight? Fine.

Let's fight.

Chapter Twenty

Travis

I've never hated my family more than I do right now.

It's Sunday, the day after the story broke, and I'm sitting at Kelly's kitchen table with my laptop open, scrolling through the wreckage. The story has spread overnight—picked up by more outlets, shared on social media, commented on by people who don't know either of us and never will. Kelly's name is trending in certain corners of the internet. There are threads dissecting her social media presence, her old work history, her connection to me.

She's in the shower. I told her I'd handle the research, figure out how bad it was, so she didn't have to look at it anymore. But I'm starting to wish I hadn't offered. Every headline makes me angrier. Every comment section makes me want to put my fist through a wall.

Gold digger Kelly Dawson living her best life on Travis Howe's dime.

Classic case of a woman taking advantage of a vulnerable man.

That last one makes me close the laptop before I do something I'll regret.

This is my fault. All of it. If Kelly had never met me, she'd be in that house right now, writing her book in peace, anonymous and unbothered. Instead she's trending on Twitter and getting hate from strangers because she made the mistake of falling for someone with a toxic family and a complicated past.

I should have warned her better. I should have cut my family off completely, years ago, before they had the chance to do something like this. I should have—

"Stop."

I look up. Kelly's standing in the doorway, hair still damp, wearing sweatpants and one of my t-shirts that she stole last week. She looks tired, but her eyes are clear.

"Stop what?"

"Spiraling. I can hear you thinking from the bathroom." She crosses to the table and sits down across from me. "What did you find?"

"Nothing good."

"Specifics."

I take a breath. "The story's been picked up by about a dozen more outlets. Most of them are just rehashing the same quotes, but a few have added their own commentary. Your social media is being picked apart. Someone found your LinkedIn and is speculating about why you quit your job."