Page 14 of Belonging: KT & Lolo (Good Hope: The Next Generation #2)

CHAPTER NINE

When KT parked the Jeep in front of his cabin, Lolo unbuckled and slipped out. She turned back toward him with a warm smile.

“Thanks for driving. And for going with me.”

He came around the front of the vehicle, then fell into step beside her.

She stopped and turned, eyebrow lifted. “Your cabin is that way.”

He gestured to hers in return. “And yours is right here. I’m walking you to the door.”

She narrowed her eyes, teasing. “Playing the gentleman card?”

“Maybe.” His fingers brushed hers, then linked. “Or maybe I just want a little more time with you.”

The contact sent a current through her, startling in its intensity. Such a simple touch, and yet, it grounded her, soothed her, stirred something at her core.

He was strong, steady, self-assured, but never pushy. Not like Jared, who always needed to be the smartest man in the room. Jared wielded charm like a tool. KT made her feel…seen. Wanted. Without artifice.

Her thoughts jumbled as they approached her door, her heart doing a quiet stutter step beneath her ribs. Did they have something real between them? Was it too soon to call this a relationship?

She unlocked the door and flipped on the light. When she turned, he was standing close—so close she could smell the warm, subtle notes of his cologne. Earth and spice and something purely him.

His hand lifted slowly, his finger tucking a loose curl behind her ear. His touch lingered for the briefest second.

“Invite me in,” he murmured.

She smiled. “Would you like to come in?”

“I would.”

Inside, the room felt quieter than before, like the air had shifted.

“I had fun tonight,” she said, closing the door gently behind them.

“The night’s not over.” His voice was low, his gaze steady.

When his arms came around her, it wasn’t rushed or expectant. He simply waited, letting her meet him in the middle. When her fingers found his cheek, the charge between them ignited.

His lips brushed hers once, then again. Gentle. Teasing. Unhurried.

She rose onto her toes, winding her arms around his neck, fingers threading into the soft hair at his nape. His hands moved to her waist, then her back, drawing her in.

“I wanted to kiss you all night,” he whispered against her mouth. “I almost did when you had that bit of frosting on your lip.”

She smiled, pressing a kiss to the base of his neck. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I wanted more than one kiss.”

His hand at the small of her back brought her flush against him. His mouth claimed hers again, deeper this time. Hungrier. The kiss built in intensity, breath and want mingling, until her thoughts scattered completely .

When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard.

She touched her lips, dazed.

“I should go,” he said, though he didn’t move.

She nodded slowly. “It is getting late.”

He took a step toward the door.

She could’ve let it end there. But she didn’t.

“I seriously considered asking you to stay.”

His eyes held hers, warm and full of something that made her insides flutter. “If you’d asked,” he said softly, “I’d have said yes.”

He kissed her once more—tender and lingering—then opened the door and stepped outside, closing it quietly behind him.

On Monday, Lolo met Zoe for lunch at Driftwood, a small café tucked inside the Bayshore Hotel.

“I’m sorry you had to meet me here.” Zoe speared a piece of endive with her fork. “I only get an hour for lunch. Sometimes I can stretch it, but today I’ve got a bride and her mom at one.”

Zoe had been an event coordinator in Austin. After her engagement had abruptly ended, she’d returned to Good Hope to regroup. Even though she saw her job at the Bayshore as temporary, she gave it everything she had.

“It’s not a problem.” Lolo took a sip of her iced tea and looked around. The café was more coffee shop than bistro, but it had charm in spades. “I’ve never eaten here. It’s super cute.”

The space reflected the calm of Green Bay, with reclaimed-wood tables, porthole mirrors and soft lighting reminiscent of a lighthouse’s glow. Navy, cream and sand tones set the mood, with rope accents and miniature sailboats scattered along the shelves.

The limited menu offered freshly baked pastries, locally roasted coffee and seafood-inspired light bites. Signature drinks like the Salted Caramel Wave Latte and Seafarer’s Cold Brew added to the ambience.

Lolo had gone with a mini clam chowder bread bowl. Zoe had chosen a salmon-topped salad.

“How did the caricatures go?” Zoe asked. “I swung by your booth, but the line was insane.”

“It was wild.” Lolo smiled. “I was nervous at first, but it turned out to be fun. Everyone was so kind. And with the ice cream back to costing only a free-will donation, the vibe was just…better.”

“That totally caught me off guard,” Zoe said. “I pulled out cash, and the volunteer pointed to a donation can. I still paid what I planned, but I was surprised. I thought the church had to charge now.”

“KT donated,” Lolo said quietly. “Covered everything. This year and going forward.” She lowered her voice even more. “He’s not making a big deal out of it, so please keep it quiet.”

“That’s incredible.” Zoe blinked. “Why would he?—”

“I think the event meant a lot to him growing up.” Lolo didn’t add more. She knew about the financial struggles in KT’s family, but it wasn’t her story to tell.

“I don’t know KT or his brother well,” Zoe said, thoughtful. “They were kind of in their own orbit when we were kids. KT was always sketching. Braxton was this quiet computer genius. I don’t think either of them did sports.”

“I don’t really know much about his life back then,” Lolo admitted. “We connected through art.”

“Well, he’s certainly made a name for himself.” Zoe tilted her head. “Are you still sketching?”

“More lately.” Lolo thought of the drawings she’d started for Stillwell’s project, and the ones sparked by the fairgrounds. “It feels good to get back to it.”

“Good. You’ve always been crazy talented.”

“Thank you,” Lolo said, genuinely touched.

“I still have the one you drew of me, you know.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Then Zoe leaned in, curiosity lighting her face. “Now. Tell me what’s going on with you and KT.”

Lolo hesitated. She wanted to talk about it, but putting what she felt into words wasn’t easy.

“When we got back to our cabins, he walked me to my door. I invited him in.”

“It would’ve been rude not to.”

“Exactly.”

Zoe grinned. “Let me guess. Cozy cabin in the woods. Two people clearly into each other. Total rom-com energy.”

Lolo laughed, her cheeks flushing.

“Did he stay the night?” Zoe asked, waggling her brows.

“No.” Lolo laughed again, a little flustered. “He didn’t.”

Zoe let out an exaggerated sigh. “Shame.”

“But we kissed.”

Zoe set down her fork. “And?”

Lolo searched for the right word. “Amazing,” she finally said, voice soft. “It felt…real. Electric. He would’ve stayed if I’d asked.”

Zoe was quiet for a moment. “And you didn’t because…”

“I got scared,” Lolo admitted. “It’s moving fast.”

“You’re afraid he’s like Jared.”

It wasn’t a judgment—just understanding. Zoe had walked beside her through the worst of that betrayal.

“KT is nothing like Jared.” Lolo’s voice firmed. “He’s kind. Present. He listens. He sees me.”

Zoe rested a hand gently on her arm. “I believe you. I’m not saying rush anything. Just…don’t let fear decide for you.”

Lolo stared into her chowder, then looked up with a shaky smile. “I’m trying not to.”

Zoe smiled back, soft and sincere. “Good. Because you deserve something real. We both do.”

By the time Lolo returned to the cabin, the sun had dipped low enough to cast long shadows across Paintbrush Lane.

The late afternoon light filtered through the trees, dappled and golden, brushing everything in sight with softness.

It reminded her of what KT had said about how light could soften the hard edges of the world if you looked at it right.

Inside, the cabin was still and quiet. She slipped off her shoes, padded over to the artist’s nook and clicked on the floor lamp. The soft hum of electricity filled the silence as warm light bloomed over her supplies. Pencils lined up neatly. Sketchbooks stacked beside the easel.

She didn’t sit right away.

Instead, she stood there for a moment, her hand trailing over the edge of the table. Zoe’s words at lunch floated back. Just don’t let fear decide for you.

Easier said than done.

But maybe, just maybe, she could stop trying to figure everything out and start trusting herself again. Trusting her instincts. Her art.

Lolo lowered herself onto the stool, flipped open a fresh page in her sketchbook and let the pencil rest lightly in her hand. No firm plan. No client expectations. Just feeling.

She let the memory of KT’s face rise in her mind. Not the version she’d known years ago, but the man from last night. Lit by moonlight. Guard down. Open.

She began with a few sweeping lines, broad strokes that shaped the angle of his jaw, the tilt of his mouth when he smiled.

Her pencil moved with increasing certainty as she added the slight furrow in his brow when he was thinking, the curve of his lashes, the way his eyes held both light and something deeper beneath.

It wasn’t a perfect likeness .

It wasn’t meant to be.

It was an impression. A feeling. The way he made her feel—seen. Grounded. Wanted.

The lines flowed, one after another. With every mark on the page, she felt her tension ease. Not disappear entirely, but ease.

By the time she set the pencil down, she was breathing a little easier.

Lolo leaned back and studied the sketch. There he was.

KT Slattery.

Not just as he was. But as she saw him.

She smiled faintly, reached for a clean page and began again.

KT stared at the blank canvas while the heavy bass of a rock classic thumped through the cabin, vibrating the floorboards and his rib cage. The chaos of the music matched the turbulence inside him.

He’d always drawn from emotion. That had been true since the mural of screaming faces that had won him first place at the Alley Arts competition back in middle school, a visceral outpouring of powerlessness during his family’s hardest years.

Back then, art had been survival.

Abstract expression had given him language when words failed—lines for confusion, color for rage, texture for the ache of hope.

Even after things had gotten better at home, the instinct had remained. Feeling was the engine, the canvas the release.

But lately, the engine had stalled.

Corporate commissions had fattened his bank account, sure. But they’d also siphoned the wild, messy joy that had always ignited the first brushstroke. He missed that. Missed himself .

He paused the classic rock and scrolled to a more experimental playlist—Meredith Monk, John Cage, Laurie Anderson. Something discordant. Something to wake the muse.

Five minutes later, the canvas was still empty.

Frustrated, he hit the FaceTime app on his phone.

Braxton’s face lit up the screen. “If you’re calling to tell me it’s snowing in August, I’m hanging up.”

KT cracked a grin. “Nah. It’s sunny and deceptively peaceful.”

Braxton chuckled. “So what’s up?”

KT shrugged. “I’ve got all this…energy inside me. Emotion. But I can’t get it on the canvas. Nothing’s coming out.”

His brother’s expression sobered. “Any idea why?”

“I think I need to loosen up. Stop overthinking it. Remember why I started painting in the first place.”

“Is this about Sonya?” Braxton asked gently. “You were with her a long time.”

KT shook his head, firm. “It’s not her.”

“You sound pretty sure.”

“Because I am. I don’t miss her.” He leaned back, eyes drifting to the window.

There was a pause. “Because of Lolo.”

KT couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his mouth. “She’s…she’s incredible.”

“Still staying next door?”

“Still. It’s convenient.” He chuckled. “We’ve gone out a few times.”

Braxton didn’t speak right away. When he did, his voice was cautious. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t know her. But you went through a lot with Sonya. She had…plans for you.”

“I know,” KT said, his voice quiet. “I’m not blind. Lolo isn’t like that. She isn’t trying to mold me or steer my career. If anything, she’s nudging me back to who I was before all the noise.”

Braxton gave a small nod. “Sounds like you’re falling for her.”

KT smiled again, softer this time. “Yeah. I think I am. ”

“I wish I could meet her.”

“Me, too.”

Braxton leaned in. “Just keep your eyes open, okay? Don’t get lost in it.”

“I won’t,” KT promised. “But for the first time in a long time, I’m starting to feel like myself again. That has to mean something.”

After ending the call with Braxton, KT sat in silence.

Not the frustrated kind, but the kind that hummed, like a still lake holding something beneath the surface.

He saw color first. Not lines, not shapes. Just a wash of feeling that clung to him like heat after a storm.

The way Lolo’s voice lingered after a laugh. The steadiness behind her teasing. The way she’d touched his cheek last night as if it was natural. As if it belonged to both of them.

He reached for a brush.

No plan. No sketches. Just instinct.

He loaded it with cerulean and pulled a single, deliberate streak across the canvas.

Then another—deeper, almost cobalt—layered beside it like a second breath. A rhythm was forming. Not chaotic, but deliberate. Emotional. Alive.

The blues built slowly, sharp in some places, blurred in others, forming movement more than mass. Not a figure, not a face. But something… beating.

A visual heartbeat.

He paused only to add contrast, warmth pushing back against the tide of cool. A flick of crimson. A rush of gold. Not balance, but tension. Like the way she challenged him without even trying.

KT stepped back, chest tight, brush loose in his fingers .

It was only the beginning. But he could already picture the finished piece.

Vibrant. Layered. Pulsing with life.

He would never say it aloud—not yet. Maybe not ever.

But anyone who knew what to look for…would see her there.

He wiped his brush clean, added a final wash of sapphire to the lower corner, then leaned the brush in the jar.

The painting wasn’t done.

But it had started.

Just like something else in his life.

And for the first time in too long, he couldn’t wait to see where it would go.