Page 49 of The County Line (Whitewood Creek Farm #2)

One month later… ??

“It’s beautiful,” I state, spinning around the gorgeous brewery.

Reclaimed wooden ceilings, sparkling, rose gold appliances and hand painted photos cover the walls of scenes from the Marshall farmstead in each season.

The design details that Colt thought up and Cash built are breathtaking and I’m so happy I finally got to see it in person.

“Your vision turned reality, I love it,” I murmur to him.

Colt pulls me close, his hands gripping my hips in that protective, grounding way that always makes me feel safe.

I love the way he holds me. It’s just one of the many things about him that I’ve come to cherish over these past few months together.

He’s always been protective over me, and I think that’s because he always knew I’d be his someday.

Since the grand opening last month, the Charlotte-based Whitewood Creek Brewery it was healing for me too.

I was proud watching him work. He was reclaiming something that had once broken him, turning it into something new.

“You think you’d want to have the wedding here?” I ask.

Though we’ve only been engaged for two months now, we haven’t started planning anything. Life has been too busy, and honestly, I don’t mind taking our time.

What’s the rush when you’re marrying the man you’ve been in love with for two decades?

Colt’s lips brush against mine in a kiss, soft despite the strength of his grip on my hips. “I don’t care where we get married,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice quiet and only for me. “As long as I’ve got you, I’ll be happy.”

I smile, resting my hands on his chest. “Let’s get married by the creek then. For Maverick. It could be small. With just your family and the ceremony in our new backyard.”

His expression shifts, his eyes turning serious as he nods. “I think Mav would have liked that.”

We stand there for a moment, the quiet between us full of unspoken emotions. But the moment breaks when my phone buzzes in my back pocket. Colt lets me go, heading toward the makeshift kitchen to clean up a few spilled napkins as I pull my phone out to check the caller ID.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hi Molly, it’s Linda from Child Protective Services in Whitewood Creek.”

“Linda! Oh, hi! Good to hear from you.”

“Same here. I won’t take up too much of your Saturday, but I wanted to share some good news with you. You remember Jenni Sutton? The little girl we investigated and removed from her foster family a while back?”

“Yes…”

“Well, the family we placed her with has officially stepped forward to make a plan for adoption. A wonderful family—the Durhams. They’ve got a six-year-old daughter, and they live on a lovely little farm not far from the Marshalls’ place.

I’ve been meeting with them regularly since Jenni moved in to be sure she’s safe and settled, and I can tell you, she’s absolutely glowing. She’s thriving.”

Emotion swells in my chest, my throat tightening. “That’s… the best news.”

Linda’s voice softens. “I can’t share too much because of confidentiality, but as a law enforcement officer, I wanted you to know you did the right thing. Jenni is happy, and she’s safe.”

Relief floods through me, and I can’t stop the smile that’s stretched across my face. “Thank you, Linda. Thank you for letting me know.”

I exhale a deep breath of relief. Though Colt and I haven’t talked much about Jenni since his community service ended and CPS stepped in to remove her from her previous family, we’ve managed to keep the connection alive.

Whenever work doesn’t pull us in opposite directions, we’ve made time to volunteer with Lydia at the community center.

It’s given us the chance to see Jenni, get our asses kicked at some board games, and nurture that bond.

She reminds me a lot of myself, and to hear she’s now living with a wonderful family and is happy, well there’s no better way to end this perfect day. Colt might project a tough exterior, but he’s always had a soft spot for her, and he’s going to be happy to hear this too.

After hanging up, I make my way into the kitchen and wrap my arms around Colt’s waist from behind. He’s tidying up the counter, but the moment he feels my touch, he stops, turning to face me.

“That was Jenni’s CPS worker,” I tell him, meeting his gaze.

His eyes narrow slightly, serious and searching mine for reassurance. “What did she say?”

“The family she’s with wants to move forward with a plan of adoption,” I reply, my voice thick with emotion. “She said Jenni’s glowing. She’s happy. She’s safe, Colt.”

A slow smile spreads across his face, and he nods. “Now that’s the best news I’ve heard all month.”

I grin, feeling a swell of pride and gratitude. “I love you, Colt. Thank you for pushing me to dig deeper and not let this go.”

He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch warm and steady. “I just saw a young, strong girl who needed help who reminded me a lot of you.”

Reaching up, I run my fingers through his hair, which has grown out enough for me to weave them through. It’s a new look for him, and I love it. “You did the same thing for me when I was younger,” I say softly.

“And I’d do it again.”

My throat tightens, but I push through. “For a long time, I didn’t have the words for it, but I think I always felt like the people in my life had forgotten about me.

Like the world had abandoned me. My own dad ignored me—neglected me physically and emotionally.

Maverick saw me for a while, but even he could never fill the role of a father.

And when I left, moving away felt like losing my last anchor.

I learned how to rely on myself early on, but I threw it all away the moment someone like Jordan came along, offering what felt like security. ”

Colt’s brow furrows, his hands steadying me as I continue.

“I told myself I’d never trust another man like that again.

Not like I trusted Jordan. Not like I trusted my dad to take care of me.

When I met Jordan in the dark that night at that abandoned home, I realized I needed to face him alone—not for you, not for anyone else, but for me.

I had to prove to myself that I didn’t need saving anymore.

I wasn’t just a damsel in distress waiting for someone to rescue me.

For a man to come save me. I could stand up to my dad.

To Jordan. To anyone who might threaten me. I was stronger. And I did.”

Colt watches me closely, his gaze unwavering, his voice steady.

“Molly, you’ve always been strong. Stronger than you realize.

You didn’t need me to save you—but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop being here for you and trying to protect you.

I’m proud of you.” He leans in, his forehead resting against mine as his words settle deep in my heart.

“I love you, Molly Patrick. Every part of you. Always.”