Page 57 of Where the Blacktop Ends

“Damn…” I say, wincing at the image of Troy’s brother and the poor woman he was defending.

Troy’s face is hard as he continues, “Colt’s always been that way—he settles things with his fists. Even though he was defending the woman the man could have killed, and the guy threw the first punch, it was Colt’s word against theirs. The girl clammed up fast when the sheriff threatened her. She wasn’t from our town and had some sort of record.”

“Why would the sheriff threaten her?” I ask, incredulous.

“The guy that Colt beat up? Well, he’s the sheriff’s son.”

“Fuck…” What a twisted web of corruption.

“Yeah, small-town politics. You piss off the wrong people, and it doesn’t matter if you’re a local hero, beloved family farm that pays taxes into their economy—you get blackballed. There’s only so much you can do.”

“So that’s why you got into politics,” I say, starting to piece together the puzzle of Troy.

“Kind of,” he admits. “I started with law school before all this shit happened, thinking I could make good money as a single dad raising Max on my own. But then, when my family started getting screwed over, it snowballed from there. I’m running for governor to fix this and more for the state that I love. I want to get the permits we need for the brewery and get Colt out of prison. Overthrow the government in the state and take back the focus on what makes it thrive but bring it into the future, too. I care about doing the right thing. It’s about my family but it’s about more than that.”

“Troy…” I swim closer, my fingers skimming his bicep, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. The weight of it all presses on him, heavier than the water around us. He needs someone to share it with. I wonder if I’m the first—the first he’s let in, the first to see this side of him, to hear the truth about his family and what drives him. “That’s a lot to carry alone.”

He shifts upright, facing me fully now, the water keeping us suspended, close. So close that I can feel the warmth of his breath against my chilled skin. There’s something unguarded in his eyes, a quiet fear that I’ll take his words and turn them against him. I never would. But how do I make him believe that? How do I earn the trust he’s never given freely?

He’s always seemed older than his years—steady, composed. Now I understand why.

“It is. But we all carry it. My sister Regan stepped in to run the egg farm while Colt’s been away. Lawson’s got sales and marketing down to a science and handling all of the travel. Cash is building the brewery and managing the distillery, and my dad’s holding everything together as best he can without my mom here. This is how I contribute. With influence and power.”

I nod.

He lets out another heavy sigh. “I’ve been working on Colt’s appeal for years. Got an email from his lawyer on the train ride home tonight—his appeal’s likely going to be denied.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means Colt will have to serve his full five-year sentence. He’s been in for four already. I wanted him home for the holidays. I wanted him out before now. The whole thing is screwed up. It’s been four years too long, and I feel like I’ve let him down every step along the way.”

“I’m so sorry…” I drift closer, the space between us dissolving until our legs brush beneath the water. His hands graze my arms—an accidental touch, barely there—but even underwater, it sends a ripple of warmth through me, goosebumps rising in its wake, trailing all the way up my neck.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his fingers curl around my bicep as if to ground himself. I can’t tell if it’s an accident or intentional, but I don’t want them to leave. “I don’t say it enough but having you here with Liam—it’s taken a huge weight off my shoulders. I feel like I’m not doing enough for him. Eleanor was slowing down and couldn’t keep up... just knowing that he’s got you makes me feel a lot better about leaving for work every day.”

“Of course. I love it. I love him. He’s such a special boy. I know you have a million different things on your plate, but you don’t have to worry about this one. I’ve got this. I’ve gothim.”

Troy exhales slowly, his head tipping back, eyes sliding shut like he’s fighting a war within himself. Moonlight spills over the sharp planes of his face, his dark lashes casting shadows against his cheeks. He looks like something carved from stone—beautiful, unyielding, and yet, right now, on the verge of breaking.

When he opens his eyes again, they burn with something raw, something reckless. His fingers tighten around my wrist, sliding lower, wrapping around my forearm as if grounding himself. And then, just as quickly, he lets go—only to grip my waist, much tighter than a causal hold and then yank me against him.

The suddenness steals the breath from my lungs, but it’s nothing compared to the way my body reacts. Instinct takes over. My legs wrap around his waist, pressing me flush against him, the heat of his skin searing through the cold water. I should push back, but I don’t want to. Not anymore.

His hands skate up my back, then into my hair, his fingers cradling the base of my skull. He tilts my head up, forcing my gaze to his. The hesitation that’s always been there, the restraint that’s kept him tethered—gone.

And then he’s kissing me.

A deep, consuming kiss that leaves no room for doubt, no space between us. His lips move against mine with a desperation that sends a shiver through me, his breath mixing with mine, his grip tightening like he’s afraid I’ll slip away. But I won’t. I’m here. And for the first time, so is he.

Chapter 21 – Georgia

“I close my eyes as I melt into him, wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing my chest against him, trying to eliminate any space that's between us. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, sending waves of pleasure throughout my entire body as I rock my core downward, feeling the hard length of him between my legs.

His tongue slips deeper, savoring and exploring, as though he’s memorizing every taste, every second, unable to resist even as he tries to take it slow. His hands are everywhere now: one cupping the back of my head, the other sliding down to my waist, palming my ass as he holds me up, all while treading water.

A small part of me fears that if we stop, he’ll pull away and rethink it all—decide this isn’t the best idea—to give in to what I think we’ve been feeling for weeks. But I don’t want it to stop. I need him. I’ve never felt this kind of fire before, this raw desire for a man so burdened and strong. I want to be consumed by it,by him. I want to feel his fingers on my skin, inside me, to taste him, to have him taste me.

Troy swims us toward shallower water, never breaking our hold, until our feet finally touch the ground. When he pulls back, his hazel eyes search mine, silently asking for permission. I nod, lacing my fingers through his and lead him to the shore.

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