Page 4 of Belonging: KT & Lolo (Good Hope: The Next Generation #2)

CHAPTER THREE

Lolo’s stomach growled as she rinsed out her coffee mug. She glanced at the clock and winced—she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. In her rush to get to the cabin and settle in, she’d passed right by Good Hope Market, mentally assuring herself she’d come back later.

Well, later had arrived, and her only dinner option at the moment was dry granola from her carry-on bag and a bottle of water that had been rolling around in her car for a week.

She could have gone back to Kyle and Eliza’s—her standing dinner invitation was genuine and always open.

Or she could have grabbed something from one of the many cozy eateries along Main Street.

But tonight, she wanted her shelves stocked.

She wanted a kitchen that looked like someone actually lived there.

Somehow, that felt like it’d be a step toward reclaiming a bit of her life.

The drive to the market was short—one of the perks of a place like Good Hope. Nothing was too far, and everything felt like it was there for you.

By the time she pulled into the parking lot, a soft drizzle had begun to fall.

The kind that kissed your skin more than soaked it.

She stepped out and lifted her face to the sky for a moment, letting the cool droplets patter against her cheeks.

She knew what it would do to her curls—hello, frizz—but she didn’t care.

There was something soothing about summer rain. Cleansing. Quieting.

Inside the market, the scent of fresh bread and citrus greeted her.

Lolo grabbed a cart and made a slow loop through the aisles, adding peanut butter, coffee, yogurt, berries, a bunch of bananas, a block of sharp cheddar.

She threw in a loaf of sourdough, a dozen eggs, and—why not?

—four pints of ice cream in flavors she wouldn’t have to share with anyone.

By the time she reached the front, her cart was satisfyingly full. She glanced around for the self-checkout, but saw that all three stations were roped off with hand-scrawled signs reading Out of Order. Naturally.

She wheeled into the only open lane behind a tall man wearing a navy hoodie and scrolling through his phone. His chestnut hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck, and though she couldn’t see his face, something about him struck a familiar chord.

She didn’t get a chance to study him more closely, as the woman at the front of the line was engaged in a spirited discussion with the teenage cashier over the price of a box of laundry detergent.

“I know it said $13.99,” the older woman insisted, already pulling out her phone as she turned. “I’ll snap a picture and show you.”

With the brisk energy of someone on a mission, she threaded past the line. “Sorry—really. I’ll be quick, I promise!”

The man in front of Lolo stepped aside with a faint smile and a shrug.

“No worries,” he said easily, making space for her to pass.

That voice .

It struck her like a song she hadn’t heard in years, and yet, somehow, she still remembered all the lyrics.

She reached out and tapped his shoulder. “KT?”

He turned, and their eyes locked—blue meeting blue—and the years seemed to collapse into nothing.

Tall and lanky, he still wore his dark hair long, which suited his angular face. Only now, instead of looking like he’d hacked on it with rusty scissors, it reflected expert styling.

He looked…older, of course. A few fine lines creased his forehead, and his jaw was more defined. But that familiar boyish charm hadn’t faded. The smile he offered her—broad and laced with surprise—hit her like a burst of sunshine after a long gray winter.

“Lolo,” he breathed, grinning. “Omigod, what are you doing here?” He glanced pointedly at her cart. “Other than shopping like you’re preparing for the end of days.”

She laughed. “I’m visiting Kyle and Eliza.”

His brows knit. “They made you buy all their groceries?”

Lolo rolled her eyes. “No. I’m staying at the Shaw cabin for a bit. I needed a break.”

KT tilted his head. “Why not stay with them?”

There was the KT she remembered—always direct, always asking questions like he had a right to know the answers.

“They offered,” she said quickly, not wanting to leave the wrong impression. “But it’s a full house with two teenagers and a million schedules. I needed quiet. Time to think. Reset.”

He nodded slowly, clearly mulling that over. “The Shaw cabin…”

“It’s at the end of Paintbrush Lane. I don’t know if you’re familiar with?—”

“It’s the one with the blue door.”

Her eyes lit up. “Yes! That’s it. You know it?”

“I do.” He started unloading his cart onto the conveyor belt, glancing at her over his shoulder .

Lolo hesitated, not quite ready to let the conversation fade. “So, are you here visiting family? Or just soaking up a Good Hope summer?”

She tried to remember—did he still have relatives here?

“My grandma is here. As well as my Aunt Lindsay—my mom’s sister—and her family. Her daughter, Olivia, and your niece, Ava, are pretty tight.”

“That’s right!” Lolo said, the connection clicking into place. “I forgot about that.”

“I came to visit. Stayed to breathe.” He smiled as he put a loaf of bread on the belt. “Been here about a month.”

“And how long do you plan to keep breathing here?” she teased.

He shrugged. “As long as it takes.”

She cocked her head. “As long as what takes?”

Instead of answering her question, he glanced into her cart, eyes twinkling as they landed on her frozen items. “Four pints of ice cream? Expecting company, or is this a one-woman operation?”

Lolo gave a casual shrug, summoning her most unbothered tone. “I buy ice cream when I want to relax. There’s nothing like dipping a spoon into a carton of creamy goodness at the end of a long day.”

The words were out before she realized how they sounded—and judging by the slow grin spreading across KT’s face, he caught it.

Heat crept up her neck, but she lifted her chin, determined not to let him see her squirm.

“For the record, I do not eat an entire pint in one sitting.”

Not usually, anyway. That kind of indulgence was reserved for special occasions, like walking in on your boyfriend and another woman.

“I just like options,” she added, straightening a box of pasta in her cart.

KT raised a brow, then nodded. “Options are good.”

They fell into a brief, easy silence as the cashier finished scanning his groceries. He handed over a credit card, then turned back to her with a familiar smile that still had the power to unsettle her equilibrium.

“I love ice cream,” he said casually, eyes glinting. “Especially Cherry Garcia. Maybe I’ll walk over one of these days, and we can share a pint. I’ll even bring my own spoon.”

Her mouth opened, then closed again. Was he joking? Flirting? Both?

“You’d have to drive,” she managed once her brain rebooted. “Paintbrush is kind of out there.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Not if you’re in the cabin next door.”

Lolo stared at him.

His smile widened. “See you around, neighbor.”

Then he picked up his bag, gave her a wink and walked out into the drizzle, leaving her standing in line, heart thudding like she was twelve again.

KT shoved a cereal box into the cupboard and was reaching for another box when his phone rang. The Tetris theme filled the room, a ringtone a computer geek could be proud of. He didn’t have to look at the screen to know who was calling. Braxton.

Scooping his phone off the counter, he accepted the FaceTime request. “Yo.”

“Putting away groceries,” Braxton said, grinning into the camera. “So domestic.”

Braxton’s hair was several shades darker, and his eyes were brown instead of blue, but KT believed anyone paying even half attention would know they were brothers.

“If I don’t do it, they’ll just sit on the counter,” KT replied, pulling out a Coke he’d just stashed in the fridge.

He twisted off the cap, gave the counter a quick scan to make sure nothing perishable remained, then dropped into a cabin chair upholstered in a moose-and-pinecone print. “It’s kind of like being a kid again.”

“Yeah, like that,” Braxton agreed. “If you didn’t do it, it didn’t get done.”

KT took a long swig of soda as a wave of memories surged. He hadn’t been a clean freak growing up, but he’d liked some kind of order. “Back then, there wasn’t much to put away.”

“There was more when Eugene was around,” Braxton said quietly, a trace of wistfulness in his voice before he cleared his throat. “I remember the food.”

Eugene. Their biological father. Neither of them could call him Dad —not when he’d walked away from the role like it had never mattered.

Their mom had already had Dakota, her first child from a high school relationship, when she’d fallen for Eugene, an out-of-town engineer working on a habitat restoration project.

She hadn’t known he was married, hadn’t known he had a whole other life.

By the time she’d found, it was too late.

Braxton was born, and KT came along after Eugene left.

Aside from the court-ordered child support checks, there’d been no contact. No birthday cards. No explanations.

“Mom tried,” KT said, the words low but full of meaning. “She almost gave up more than once, but she had a spine of steel. Counseling, support from people here in Good Hope… She rose from the ashes, man.”

“Yeah, when Krew came back and found out he had a daughter,” Braxton said, nodding slowly. “Everything changed. For all of us.”

KT nodded, too. Still, those lean years had left their imprint on both of them. Marks that weren’t always visible, but still shaped the men they were becoming.

“So,” Braxton said, shifting the energy, “how’s the painting? Producing any masterpieces? ”

KT smirked. “No masterpieces yet, but give me time.”

There was something in Braxton’s eyes, though, a hint of concern beneath the teasing. “You ever regret not taking that Stillwell deal?”

“Not for a second. It was the right call.”

“Sonya didn’t think so.”

Sonya had been brilliant—driven, poised, a killer corporate attorney. But KT’s artist mind had always been a foreign land to her. Trying to explain his creative needs had been like arguing aesthetics in a tax court.

“She never understood that my creativity—my lifeblood—was a flickering flame on the verge of burning out.”

Braxton snorted. “Poetic.”

“But true,” KT added, more sober now. “She never really got me…or my art.”

Which was part of why they hadn’t worked. The bigger his career had gotten, the smaller his joy had become. He’d taken jobs for the money, not the meaning.

“You heard from her?”

“No,” KT said, then hesitated. “Don’t expect to.”

His thoughts drifted, uninvited, to Lolo Kendrick. That flash of curly hair. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about the cabin. The ice cream. The spoon.

“You’ll never guess who I ran into at the market,” he said. “Lolo Kendrick. We had the most insightful conversation about the four pints of ice cream in her cart.”

“I’m trying to place her.” Braxton’s dark brows drew together. “Curly-haired kid?”

“Lots of women have curly hair,” KT said, grinning. “And her hair’s still curly. But I wouldn’t call her a kid. Not anymore. She’s only a couple of years younger than me—and all grown up.”

It had been a jolt to see her again. A vivid little time warp right in the checkout lane.

“How old were you when you knew her? ”

“I was fourteen. She was twelve, maybe thirteen. Came to stay with her brother, Kyle, for the summer.”

“You two were into art, right?” Braxton squinted as if trying to pull the memory into sharper focus. “That’s all I remember.”

“She liked pencil sketches. Had a great eye. Really passionate about it. You could tell she had talent, even as a kid.”

“Is that what she does now?”

“I’m not sure. We only talked for a minute. But she’s staying in the cabin next to me—and these cabins are for artists—so maybe.” He shrugged. “She mentioned needing time to recharge. Sort of like what I’m doing.”

“Lolo Kendrick,” Braxton repeated slowly, testing the name. Then he suddenly sat up straighter. “Wait a minute. Isn’t Kendrick Inc. the company that’s been trying to pull you into the Stillwell project?”

“That’s the one.”

Braxton blinked. “Don’t you think it’s kind of weird that she just shows up in Good Hope…and ends up in the cabin next to yours?”

KT paused. It hadn’t struck him as odd until now. He frowned. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it.”

“I mean, it’s cool,” Braxton said, “but…come on, man. This can’t be a coincidence.”

KT let out a quiet laugh and shook his head. “You’re reading too much into it.”

Braxton raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”

“Yes,” KT said firmly. “It’s Good Hope, not a spy thriller. People come here all the time to slow down, breathe a little.”

“Uh-huh.” Braxton leaned closer to the screen, smirking. “And it just so happens the daughter of the owner of a company trying to land you lands herself in the cabin next door?”

KT leaned back and took a slow sip of Coke. “It’s a coincidence. Or maybe the universe is just feeling cheeky.”

Braxton let out a theatrical groan. “You’re telling me this isn’t the opening chapter of something?”

KT laughed. “It’s not a story, Brax. It was a moment. A good one, sure, but that’s all.”

He wasn’t turning it into something more.

Not yet.

After the call ended, KT sat staring at his phone, the screen gone black in his hand, Braxton’s knowing smirk still vivid in his mind.

Not a story, he’d said.

And he’d meant it.

But as the cabin settled into evening quiet and the rain began to tap softly against the windows, KT couldn’t help but replay the way Lolo’s eyes had widened when she’d seen him. The curve of her smile. The fluster in her voice when she’d mentioned the blue door.

She hadn’t changed much. Not really. There was still that spark, that quiet intensity beneath the surface. The kind that made you pay attention when she walked into a room. The kind that had always made him wonder what she was thinking—what she wasn’t saying.

He stood and wandered to the small table where he kept his sketchbook. Flipping past a few old pages, he found a blank one and sat.

He didn’t know what he was drawing at first, just lines and shadows, shapes that formed instinctively under his pencil. But gradually, a woman’s profile emerged. Hair curled at the edges. A familiar tilt to the chin.

KT paused, studied the lines, then closed the sketchbook with a soft thud.

Just a moment, he reminded himself.

That’s all it was.