Page 6 of Belonging: KT & Lolo (Good Hope: The Next Generation #2)

KT stared at her skeptically, as if he thought she was trying to trick him. In his position, given the way they had randomly run into each other, she supposed she might’ve assumed the same.

“No,” she repeated, meeting his gaze. “Despite working for my father and being asked to design for Stillwell, I’m not here to convince you of anything. Haven’t you ever needed to get away from your life just to make sure it’s still the life you want?”

A flicker of something passed through his eyes—recognition maybe, or relief.

“That’s exactly why I’m here.”

“Tell me,” she said gently.

He hesitated.

She gave a small smile and waved a hand. “Or don’t.”

“My career’s taken off,” he began, his voice thoughtful. “But lately…the work feeds my bank account, not my soul.”

“You’ve done a lot of corporate gigs,” she said quietly.

“Too many.” His gaze drifted, and she saw it—the weight of choices made, of time spent chasing the wrong kind of success.

“Then why take them?”

She passed him the ice cream, having scooped another bite for herself.

He accepted it with a slight smile. “The projects seemed like a good idea. Until they weren’t.”

“You’re going to have to dumb that down for me.” She pointed to her wine. “Between this and the sugar, I’m operating at about fifty percent.”

He laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing a little. “It’s a longer conversation. One we should have. Just maybe not tonight.”

“Fair enough.” She met his eyes. “Just so you know, if you ever take on the Stillwell project, we’d include clauses—creative freedom, revision limits, ownership over artistic direction.”

“All that on fifty percent power?” His grin returned, genuine and admiring. “I’m impressed.”

“You should be. You wouldn’t just be executing someone else’s vision. You’d be shaping it.”

“Is this you not trying to convince me?”

“Not convincing. Just informing. He’s willing to pay top dollar.” Lolo gave him the amount the firm had been authorized to offer.

KT didn’t even blink. “Still not interested.”

“Fair enough. I won’t bring it up again.” Lolo clinked her spoon against his, the ice cream equivalent of a pinkie swear.

After a moment, he tilted his head slightly, a quiet shift in the mood between them. “Are you seeing anyone back in Lexington?”

The question came softly. Light on the surface. But something more underneath.

Suddenly aware of the way he was looking at her, she felt her heart skip a beat. Lolo took another sip of wine, her gaze lingering on the rim of the glass before she set it down carefully.

“I was,” she said at last, her voice even. “But not anymore.”

KT didn’t speak, but his eyes held hers—steady, attentive.

Lolo shifted slightly on the cushion, curling her legs beneath her. “It ended…badly. I won’t bore you with the details, but let’s just say it gave me a lot to think about.”

He nodded, not pushing, not prying.

“That’s part of why I’m here,” she added. “To clear my head. To figure out what I want without anyone else’s voice in my ear.”

“Smart,” he said quietly. “Hard, too.”

She gave a soft laugh. “You could say that.”

They sat in a companionable silence for a moment, the soft hum of the refrigerator and the tick of the clock the only sounds in the cabin.

Then he reached for another bite of ice cream. “Well…for the record, any guy who let you go is an idiot.”

She glanced at him, surprised by the gentle conviction in his tone.

“Thanks,” she said, her smile faint but genuine. “I didn’t need to hear that. But…it’s nice.”

“You probably don’t need me to say this either,” he added, “but I’m really glad you’re here.”

Lolo felt something shift in the air between them, just slightly. Like the beginning of a slow, warm breeze.

“I’m glad, too,” she said. And for the first time in a long time, she meant it without hesitation.

KT set his spoon aside and leaned back, one arm resting casually across the back of the sofa.

“You like to work late,” he said, glancing toward her sketchbook on the coffee table.

Lolo followed his gaze and smiled. “Old habits.”

“Were you working when I knocked?”

“Sort of. Thinking more than sketching.” She pulled the throw blanket over her legs, the weight of the day catching up with her in slow, pleasant waves.

“For a while now, my work has felt more mechanical than artistic. Now that I’m back to working on a project where I have the chance to be creative, I’m feeling kind of blocked. ”

He tilted his head, watching her. “That’s not the Lolo I remember.”

Her breath caught just a little at the way he said it—gentle, sincere, like he still saw something in her she wasn’t sure was visible anymore.

“I remember a girl who filled sketchbooks faster than she could buy them,” he went on, voice softer now. “Who always found the light in the room before anyone else noticed it was there.”

Lolo looked away, the words hitting a tender spot she hadn’t realized was still bruised. “A lot has changed.”

“Some things haven’t,” he said, and she could feel his gaze resting on her. “That spark’s still there. I saw it in the checkout line.”

She didn’t respond right away. The intimacy of the moment surprised her—not heavy, just honest. Open.

“I’ve missed this,” she said finally.

He lifted a brow. “The ice cream?”

She laughed. “That, too. But no. This. Talking. Feeling like I can breathe.”

His expression softened. “Yeah. Same.”

The clock ticked on in the quiet, neither of them moving to fill the silence. Outside, the wind rustled the trees, and a few raindrops tapped against the windows like a gentle rhythm calling the night home.

Eventually, KT looked over, his smile lazy. “So what happens now? Do I get kicked out for overstaying my spoon privileges?”

She smirked. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you’re planning to steal the rest of my ice cream.” She stood, picking up the half-empty carton and the spoons.

As she carried the remnants to the kitchen, he leaned back on the sofa, hands folded behind his head, clearly content .

“No promises,” he called after her. “I’ve been known to make repeat offenses.”

Lolo stuck the carton in the freezer, then rinsed the spoons, smiling as she moved through the motions. Somehow, without planning it, the evening had become something more. Not dramatic. Not defining.

Just good.

Just right.

As she returned to the living room and saw KT, relaxed, comfortable, as if he belonged, something settled quietly in her chest. Maybe this wasn’t fleeting. Maybe it wasn’t just a nostalgic reunion or a chance encounter.

Maybe it was the beginning of something more.

The walk back to his cabin was quiet, the night air cool and damp with the fading touch of rain.

Gravel crunched under KT’s boots, and the woods surrounding Paintbrush Lane exhaled a kind of stillness he’d come to appreciate—one that made space for thoughts he didn’t always have the luxury to finish.

Lolo’s voice echoed in his mind.

To figure out what I want without anyone else’s voice in my ear.

He got that. More than she probably realized.

Back in his own cabin, he clicked on the small reading lamp and tossed his keys onto the counter. The silence wrapped around him—familiar now, but not quite as welcome as it had been just a few hours ago.

He poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, replaying her words.

That’s what he’d come here for, too. Not just to rest or get inspired , as Sonya might’ve framed it, but to hear himself think. To let the voice inside—the creative one, the restless one—speak without being drowned out by expectations or polished schedules.

Sonya.

She hadn’t been cruel or demanding. In fact, she’d always been encouraging in her own way. Genuinely wanted him to succeed.

But she wasn’t an artist.

She didn’t understand that his process wasn’t about productivity or profit margins. It was about connection. Intuition. Silence. Slowness. Things that couldn’t always translate to calendars or contracts.

Sonya had been great at keeping him on track. But that was the problem. The longer they were together, the more on track he’d become. Efficient. Marketable. Predictable.

If she’d still been in his life when the Stillwell offer had come through, she wouldn’t have just pushed him to take it—she would’ve already sent the signed paperwork, booked the flight and color-coded the project phases.

She’d never meant to stifle him. She just hadn’t known she was doing it.

And he hadn’t known how to tell her.

KT sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t his either.

But standing in Lolo’s cabin tonight, listening to her talk about stepping away from the noise, watching her laugh at his stupid spoon, sitting shoulder to shoulder with someone who once got it and maybe still did, he couldn’t ignore the shift inside him.

This place had always been a reset button. But tonight, for the first time since he’d arrived, it felt like something more.

It felt like a beginning.