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

“I told her I wouldn’t say anything until my parents get back. When I do, I won’t mention her name.”

“I still don’t like it,” Kyle said.

“Which part?” Lolo asked, managing a wry smile. “There’s so much not to like.”

“You’re really not going to tell Dad about Sloane?”

“I promised her.”

“She’s young, Lolo. And Jared is powerful. This is textbook workplace imbalance.”

“She says it was consensual. So, if she doesn’t want to lodge a complaint, is it my place to do so?”

“I respect your choice.” Kyle sighed. “I just think it needs to be reported.”

“The last thing I want to do is to make my job about my sex life. And I won’t let Sloane become the scapegoat.” Lolo thought of the pleading look on the young woman’s face. “Right now, I just want to move forward. Forward from him, forward from all of it.”

“You came to the right place.” Eliza offered a reassuring smile. “Good Hope is the perfect place to heal. ”

“I’m not here to lick my wounds,” Lolo said, sitting straighter. “While I’m here, I’m reworking the Stillwell design.”

“Malcolm has waited this long,” Kyle said, “he can wait a little bit longer.”

Lolo smiled faintly. “That’s what Dad said.”

“Take time.” Kyle met her gaze. “For you.”

For the first time in a long time, something steady and sure flickered in Lolo’s heart.

Maybe she was broken right now.

Maybe she’d made mistakes.

But here, surrounded by the people who loved her, she had a chance to rebuild.

And this time, she’d build something stronger than before.

Lolo stayed with Kyle and Eliza for two nights, wrapped in the warm, bustling rhythm of their family life.

Their home was spacious and full of light, but it was the easy closeness—the shared meals, the quick hugs, the way laughter drifted up the stairs—that she cherished most after so many years away.

Her niece, Ava, counting down the days until she returned to college, was always rushing in and out, her life a whirlwind of friends and future plans.

But somehow, they’d carved out pockets of time to reconnect.

Austin, at sixteen, now stood eye-to-eye with Lolo and had inherited his dad’s easygoing charm—and a killer chess game that left her wincing at each swift defeat.

It was a busy, happy household, and Lolo had insisted they not change a thing on her account. She promised she’d use the time to settle in, maybe text a few old friends now scattered around Good Hope.

Even though Kyle and Eliza protested—loudly—that they wanted to spend every spare minute with her, they eventually honored her wishes. Still, they popped home throughout the day, bringing coffee, sandwiches and the kind of easy company that didn’t ask for anything in return.

By the third day, though, the realization hit her hard: She hadn’t texted a single friend. Instead, she found herself yearning for something quieter. Something slower. Not a hotel, with its impersonal walls and endless noise, and not a rental she’d have to explain later.

What she needed was peace.

The idea came to her, sudden and bright, while she stood under the hot spray of the shower that morning. By the time she toweled off and dressed, it felt less like an idea and more like a lifeline.

She broached her plan over breakfast, sitting at the well-loved kitchen table while sunlight slanted through the windows. The kids were already off—Ava to her summer internship, Austin to basketball practice—and it was just her, Kyle and Eliza.

“Do you know if there are any cabins available at Paintbrush?” Lolo asked as Kyle got up to grab the coffeepot.

“Paintbrush?” He lifted a brow, pouring her a generous splash before moving on to Eliza’s cup. “Why?”

Eliza peered at Lolo over the rim of her mug, sharp-eyed and curious.

Kyle dropped back into his seat with an easy grin, clearly waiting for her answer.

“I’ve loved being here,” Lolo said quickly, the words tumbling out before they could stop her. “You’ve both been wonderful. But after everything that happened with Jared, I realized I need…space. A little solitude. Just a place to think about my life, where I’m going.”

She twisted her hands in her lap, feeling vaguely ridiculous for admitting it aloud. “I thought maybe if one of the cabins was open, I could stay there for a while.”

Paintbrush Lane was a piece of local history she only half remembered, a collection of rustic cabins tucked away in the woods outside of town.

It was built in the 1920s by one of Eliza’s great-grandmothers, an artist who had created the camp to offer healing and hope to shell-shocked soldiers returning from World War I.

In the decades since, the cabins had evolved into summer rentals. About twenty years ago, Eliza’s brother, Ethan, had bought the property from their father, lovingly restoring the cabins and turning them into retreats for visiting artists.

Lolo had been inside the Shaw cabin—the family’s private one—only once or twice.

It was easily recognizable by its seven gables and the cheery bright blue door.

But what she remembered most vividly was the hush.

The way the wind whispered through the pines.

The way time seemed to slow, as if the outside world couldn’t quite reach you there.

“We want you to stay here,” Kyle said, glancing at Eliza, “but we get it. Whatever you need, Lo. We want that for you.”

Eliza studied her thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against her mug. “I know some of the cabins are rented out for the season, but Ethan always keeps the family cabin open. I’ll text him.”

“Would you?” Lolo tried to keep the eagerness out of her voice—and failed. She wasn’t unhappy here. She was just tired. Tired all the way down to her bones.

Eliza was already pulling out her phone. “I’ll text him now.”

Kyle reached across the table, his big hand enveloping Lolo’s in a warm, grounding squeeze. “If we can’t keep you under our roof,” he said with a smile, “at least you’ll be close by.”

“There.” Eliza set down her phone with a decisive click. “It shouldn’t take?—”

The phone dinged.

Kyle chuckled. “Your brother doesn’t waste time.”

Eliza read the message, her face brightening. “He says the cabin is yours. He’ll drop off the key this morning. You can move in whenever you’re ready.”

Relief surged through Lolo, almost dizzying in its intensity. “Thank you.” She looked from Eliza to Kyle, her throat tightening. “For understanding. And for being here for me.”

Kyle’s eyes softened. “We’re family, Lo. You can always count on us.”

The words, simple and sure, wrapped around her like a balm.

Maybe everything had fallen apart. Maybe her heart was bruised and her future uncertain. But here, with them, she wasn’t broken. She was just…rebuilding.

Maybe, for now, that was enough.