Page 21 of November's Bad Boy: Kacen
We’re on the couch, half-covered in the throw blanket that somehow always ends up smelling like him. My legs are tangled with his, and he’s absently tracing patterns on my shin like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I should be thinking about seating charts or pie donations, but instead I’m trying to memorize the shape of his hand and the way his smile curves just slightly when he’s relaxed.
“You know,” I say, trying to sound casual, “we could assign everyone a number and have them pick from a hat. Save us the drama.”
Kacen chuckles, low and warm. “Ruby would burn the Merc down before she let Friendsgiving go full chaos.”
“True.” I tilt my head against his shoulder. “She’d find a way to assign numbers based on zodiac compatibility and historical grudges.”
“Exactly. And somehow it would still end with the Petrovskys fighting the Greshams over a gravy boat.”
We both laugh, and it feels easy. It’s been like this all week. Texts, dinners, quick touches in passing, the slow rebuild of something that feels fragile and real. He shows up for everything now. Fixing things, carrying things, staying late to help me organize cookie boxes, and being quiet when I need quiet. It’s not grand gestures. It’s the everyday stuff, the showing up, the not running.
“Oh, did you see the new sign for the bookstore? It’s beautiful,” I say, making small conversation.
It combines modern updates with the old historical touches—especially the old store signs that date back to Mustang Mountain’s glory days.
“Yeah, I helped design it…” he trails off and freezes.
I look at him, blinking. "Wait. You helped design it?"
He doesn’t say anything as the wheels in my head start to turn.
“Is Kingston the backer of the bookstore?” I say, thinking out loud.
He tenses but doesn’t say a word.
I narrow my eyes. “Is Kingston the one behind the bookstore?”
Still, he stays quiet.
“And the new gym? And Levi’s construction business? And the new farm-to-table place on Main?”
Kacen rubs the back of his neck.
“Don’t start lying to me now,” I say quietly.
He sighs, finally looking at me. “Yes. It’s him. All of it. But you can’t tell anyone. Kingston doesn’t want credit. Doesn’t want the attention.”
I sit with that, heart beating a little faster. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not about him. Kingston’s been anonymous for a reason. He didn’t want anyone to know. Didn’t want to be the rich guy saving the town. He just… wanted to help. He thought maybe if people didn’t know, it would mean more. Our family had fucked up the town enough. He's just trying to help.”
"What do you mean—about the town? You guys haven't done anything to the town," I say, still in shock, trying to comprehend it all.
He gives a bitter laugh. "If I hadn't caught my dad cheating with your mom, my parents wouldn't have divorced, my mom wouldn't have moved to Chicago. I wouldn't have fucked everything up there and been sent back here. Dad was trying to repair his reputation as the town sheriff, but I ruined all that when I came back to live. He told me so over and over again."
My heart broke for the teenage boy, who was being told something that was not true. I place my hand on his chest, trying to make him understand my words.
"Your dad and my mom ruined their reputations all on their own. If you hadn't caught them, it could have easily been me, or your mom, or my dad, or hell, even Ruby. They were reckless and didn't care about anyone else. How dare he put that on you when you were just a kid? But none of that has anything to do with the town."
He takes a deep breath, lifts my hand from his chest, and presses a gentle kiss to it before placing it back on his chest, his palm resting over mine.
"If my dad hadn't been run out of town, he would still have been the sheriff, and Savage Bones wouldn't have had a stronghold here. Sheriff Cade wouldn't have been working with them, and all the mess last year wouldn't have happened," Kacen whispers.
"Oh, Kacen, that isn't true. Savage Bones would have found a different way to use your dad, or someone else in power. Who knows how much worse it could have been,” I say, pulling him in for a hug.
He buries his face in my neck, and I can feel some of the tension leaving his body before he speaks again.
"Promise me you won't tell anyone. He doesn't want anyone to know, and it's his choice when it's revealed to the town," he says.
