Single mother.
I am starting over, whether or not I want to.I should feel like my life just ended.And maybe a part of it did.But as I stand there in the quiet of that room, another thought creeps in.
Small.
Uncertain.
But it’s growing.And it’s telling me, maybe there’s a silver lining somewhere in all this wreckage.Maybe after the storm, I’ll find my calm.
Maybe.
Prologue 2: J.T
Fifty-five years old, and you’d think I would’ve stopped wanting her by now.
That this ridiculous, relentless thing I feel every time Kelly McCrae walks into a room would’ve burned itself out years ago.
It hasn’t.
Hell, I’ve had my eye on her since the first time I saw her behind the counter at McCrae Lumber—blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, calculator in one hand, phone tucked against her shoulder, telling some contractor twice her size exactly why his numbers didn’t add up.
Too young.
She was too damn young.
Barely in college.
Still dating that high school boyfriend of hers—the same boy who grew into the kind of man who mistakes loyalty for weakness and kindness for something to exploit.
Even back then, I knew.
That little fucking pipsqueak didn’t deserve her.
He couldneverhandle a woman like her.
See, Kelly’s never been soft in the way people assume.
She’s not a pushover.Not a doormat.And she’s nobody’s second choice.
Kelly’s a firework.
Like the Fourth of July—bright, explosive, impossible to ignore if you’re paying attention.
And I was paying attention.
The sway of her hips when she walked across the yard in steel-toe boots and tight blue jeans.
The sharp curl of her mouth when she didn’t agree with something.
Those cobalt eyes of hers—clear, steady, unafraid to hold a man’s gaze.
Fuck.
I told myself to leave it alone.
I was older.Too old for her.
Established.
