Page 18 of May's Bad Boy: Kody

They all have the same buried clauses. They all have the ballooning interest rates and the notary stamps that don't match official records. It's tiny lines of fine print that scream exploitation.

It's fraud. Plain and simple.

"They're counting on people being scared," I say, flipping through a contract with sharp eyes. "Or ashamed. Hoping no one reads the fine print. Hoping no one cares enough to fight."

Miss Ada makes a soft, angry sound. "I almost signed one of those contracts. If it weren't for you?—"

"No," I say gently. "If it weren't for you having the guts to say something. That's what stopped this. And now? The town is not going to be quiet for much longer."

Ruby grins. "Damn right."

By midafternoon, we've organized enough evidence to make a case. That's when we head straight to Nelson Mercantile. Orville's in the back office, going over town paperwork when we walk in. His brow furrows the second he sees the stack of documents in my arms.

Once I explain what we've found, he skims the pages with a practiced eye and nods grimly. "I've seen this before. Urban revitalization scams disguised as development. These contracts are built to trap people until they default, then sweep in and take the land."

My stomach knots. "So this isn't just about Mustang Mountain."

"No, sweetheart," he says, eyes kind but weary. "You just stirred a hornet's nest. Be ready. I will get all this to the town's lawyer, and he will go after these guys."

By the time I get home, the sun is beginning to dip, casting golden light across the cabin. Kody's truck is already in the driveway. When I step inside, he's standing in the doorway, arms crossed, watching me with that look—the one that sees too much.

Sadie is curled up beside the coffee table, coloring with intense concentration. She's drawn a big heart in crayon and traced the words OUR CASE in shaky letters across the top.

"We're building a case too," she tells me with pride.

He meets my eyes over her head, and something tightens in his chest. I can see it. That mix of awe and something deeper.

I start filling him in on everything we learned from the forged notaries to the escalating rates and the fraudulent lenders. It pours out of me in a flood. Years of buried anger and helplessness all coming to the surface.

"You sure you want to stand by me as I get deeper into this?" I ask him, trying to sound casual, like it's not everything. Like his answer doesn't have the power to break something open in me.

Kody steps closer, fingers brushing mine, and his voice is low but steady. "I already am. You're my wife. We protect each other, remember?"

He takes my hand, fully this time, and our fingers thread together like they've done it a hundred times before. It’s as if they were made for this.

"But this isn't what you signed up for," I say, voice barely above a whisper. "This mess. This fight. Me dragging you into something that could get ugly."

He steps closer until there's no space left between us. His other hand rises, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and then cupping the side of my face as if he's anchoring me there. Like he wants me to know I'm not going anywhere.

"Paige," he says, and it's not just my name, it's a promise. "I don't want convenient. I want you. And if this is what standing with you looks like? Then hell yeah, I'm in."

My breath catches. The heat in his eyes isn't just about desire, it’s something steadier, deeper. A quiet kind of devotion I've never had from anyone. Not without conditions and not without fear.

I squeeze his hand, grounding myself. "You make it sound easy."

He smiles, soft and crooked. "It's not. But it's worth it. You're worth it."

That's when I feel it. The shift. The subtle gravity pulling us closer, not just physically, but emotionally. We're in this now. Together. No pretending.

And it's everything.

Later, after Sadie's tucked into bed and the house has gone quiet, we sit on the porch swing. The night air is cool against my skin, stars dusting the sky like sugar. I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders.

"You want to know why this matters so much to me?" I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, eyes never leaving mine. No rush. Just the kind of stillness that says he's ready to hold whatever I hand him.

"When I was seventeen, my mom got sick. Real sick. She didn't have insurance, and we didn't qualify for help. Even though she tried to fight it, the medical debt drowned her. She lost her business. Her home. Everything. And she still died."

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