Page 55 of The Man in the Cottage

"My grandmother." The word catches in my throat, the way it always does. "She sat me down one Christmas and told me I was being taken advantage of. That my family loved me, but they loved my money more. She said if I didn't set boundaries, I'd end up broke and bitter, and they'd move on to the next person they could use."

"That must have been hard to hear."

"It was. But she was right." I lean back against the couch. "She was the only one who never asked me for anything. The only one who treated me the same whether I had money or not. When everyone else saw a paycheck, she just saw her grandson."

Kelly squeezes my hand. She doesn't say anything, but I can feel her understanding.

"So I started saying no. I got some financial advice, set up boundaries, started putting money away instead of handing it out. Told them I'd help with emergencies, but I wasn't going to fund their lifestyles anymore." I meet her eyes. "And they didn't take it well."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean they stopped talking to me. For months. My mom wouldn't return my calls. My dad told people I'd changed, that the money had gone to my head. My sister posted on social media about how family should stick together, and everyone knew she was talking about me." I run a hand through my hair. "It was like I'd betrayed them by not giving them everything they wanted."

Kelly is quiet for a moment. "That's horrible."

"It is what it is. We eventually started talking again, but it's never been the same. They're always... waiting. Looking for an angle. Figuring out what they can get." I shake my head. "When the scandal happened, when I got suspended—do you know what my mother's first question was? Not 'are you okay' or 'what can we do to help.' She asked about my contract. Whether I was still getting paid."

"Travis."

"That's who they are. That's why I don't talk to them. And that's why, when they showed up here without telling me, I knew it wasn't because they missed me. They want something. They always want something."

Kelly takes my hand, threading her fingers through mine. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was that bad."

"I should have told you sooner. I should have warned you they might come." I squeeze her hand. "I just... I didn't want you to see that part of my life. The messy, ugly part that I can't fix."

"Everyone has messy parts." She scoots closer, leaning her head against my shoulder. "I don't think less of you because your family is difficult. If anything, I think more of you for getting out."

"I didn't get out. I ran away."

"You made a choice to protect yourself. That's not the same as running away." She lifts her head to look at me. "And for what it's worth? I thought your mom was awful. The way she talked about you, about your grandmother—like none of it mattered. Like you were just a problem to be managed."

"That's how she sees me. That's how she's always seen me." I pull Kelly closer, wrapping my arm around her. "But you're not like that. You see me. The real me. And I don't know how to thank you for that."

"You don't have to thank me. Just keep being honest with me. That's all I ask."

"I can do that."

We sit in silence for a while, the house quiet around us. I feel lighter than I have in years, like some weight I didn't know I was carrying has finally been set down. Kelly knows the worst of it now—the scandal, the family, all the broken pieces I've been trying to hide. And she's still here.

"So what happens now?" she asks.

"What do you mean?"

"With your family. Are they going to come back? Try again?"

I think about it. My mother isn't the type to give up easily. She'll regroup, recalculate, find another angle. That's what she does.

"Probably," I admit. "But whatever they try, we'll deal with it together. Okay?"

"Okay."

She tilts her head up, and I kiss her—soft and slow, trying to pour everything I'm feeling into it. Gratitude and relief and something deeper, something I'm not ready to name yet.

"I missed you," I say against her lips.

"I missed you too." She smiles. "How was practice? We never really talked about it."

"It was... complicated." I pull back, settling into the couch with her tucked against my side. "I'm not sure I want to go back."