Page 77 of The Man in the Cottage

"Tell Dad I said goodbye. And tell Savannah that if she contacts Kelly again—if she even thinks about it—I'll make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of person she is."

"That's a threat."

"It's a promise."

I walk to the front door. My mother follows me, her heels clicking on the hardwood.

"You're making a mistake," she says. "That woman has you wrapped around her finger. When she leaves you—and she will leave you, Travis, they always do—you're going to wish you hadn't burned this bridge."

I turn to face her one last time. She's standing in the hallway, backlit by the kitchen light, looking smaller than I remember. For a moment I feel something that might be pity. She's lost, and she doesn't even know it. She's spent so long manipulating people that she doesn't know how to have a real relationship anymore.

But pity isn't forgiveness. And I'm done pretending otherwise.

"Goodbye, Mom."

I walk out the door and close it behind me. The click of the latch feels final. Definitive. Like the end of something that should have ended years ago.

The drive back is easier than the drive there. I stop for coffee at a gas station, call Dave to update him, let him know the family situation is officially resolved. He says something about damage control and media strategy, but I'm barely listening. My mind is already in Longshore, already at Kelly's house, already thinking about what comes next.

I get home around four. Kelly's on the porch when I pull in, wrapped in a blanket, her laptop open beside her. She stands up when she sees my truck, her face uncertain.

"Where have you been?" she asks as I climb the porch steps. "I've been texting you all day."

"I know. I'm sorry." I pull her into my arms, holding her tight. "I went to see my parents."

She goes still. "You what?"

"I ended it. For real this time. Told my mother I was done, that I didn't want to see her or hear from her again."

Kelly pulls back to look at me. "Travis. That's... are you okay?"

"Yeah." I realize, as I say it, that it's true. "I'm more than okay. I feel like I just put down something I've been carrying for twenty years."

"What did she say?"

"That I was making a mistake. That you'd leave me eventually." I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "She's wrong. About all of it."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you. And I know what we have." I kiss her forehead. "They don't get to touch this anymore. They don't get to poison it. Whatever happens next, it's just us. You and me."

Kelly's eyes are bright. She blinks, and a tear slides down her cheek. I brush it away with my thumb.

"I love you," she says.

It's the first time either of us has said it. The words hang in the air between us, fragile and enormous.

"I love you too," I say. "I should have said it sooner. I've been feeling it for weeks."

"Me too." She laughs, a little breathless. "This is crazy, right? Two months ago, I didn't even know your last name."

"And now you're stuck with me."

"I'm not stuck. I'm choosing." She rises on her toes and kisses me, soft and slow. "I'm choosing you, Travis. All of you. Even the messy parts."

We stand there on the porch as the sun starts to set, wrapped around each other, the last of the winter cold biting at our edges.

Chapter Twenty-Three