Dom raised a brow. “What’s that, Noah?”
“She’s not running. She’s not alone. And by the time that hearing starts, I’m going to make damn sure the court knows exactly how tied she is to Buffaloberry Hill.”
“Then you’ve got about two hours.”
Well then, I would fucking make those hours count!
41
MAYA
The room smelled like aged varnish and government-grade printer toner. A side office in the Ravalli County Courthouse, the window cracked open, the fluorescent lights buzzing. I sat in a straight-backed chair with my fingers twisted in my lap, every nerve in my body pulsing.
I knew Dom had done the impossible. He’d convinced the judge to hold off on the transfer to Bozeman. I knew we had maybe fifteen minutes until my entire future was decided. But I didn’t feel calm. Not even close.
Because it wasn’t Dom that I needed.
Yeah, sure, I needed him to get me out of here in one legal piece. But to feel whole again, to remember I still had someone in my corner when the cuffs and whispers and shame stripped everything else? I needed Noah.
“I’ll be back, Maya,” Dom said after checking a message on his phone.
I nodded, but I wasn’t really present. My mind was stuck in rewind…at the bakery, where the clatter of the cruiser door had sounded like a cell slamming shut on my future.
Somewhere beyond the fog in my head, I registered boots pounding down the hallway, fast and heavy.
Then, the door burst open.
“Noah!”
He stood there, wind-tossed and breathless, his shirt half-tucked. His eyes said it all. He’d only cared about getting to me.
I crossed the room and buried myself in him. All the fight, all the fear, I let it all go in that one moment. I pressed my face into the place between his neck and shoulder and let him hold me up.
Dom strolled in behind him, grinning.
“What is that?” I asked, squinting at the piece of paper in his hand.
“A golden ticket,” Dom said. “Marriage license. Names are on it. Just needs a couple of signatures and witnesses.”
Noah dropped to one knee in front of me. Not dramatic, not rehearsed. “You’re not going anywhere, Maya. Not without me.”
My entire body buzzed—my heart, my limbs, my lips. “You’re not serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious.” His hand tightened gently. “You want out of this mess? You want to stay in Buffaloberry Hill? Then marry me. Right now.”
My breath caught. “Noah…you don’t have to do this.”
Dom, not bothering to hide his urgency, said, “Actually, he does. The judge wants proof that you’ve got roots somewhere stable. A fiancé is nice. But a husband? That’s the kind of tie that sticks. There’s no guarantee, but it’s a step-up.”
The door opened again, and in walked a man I didn’t recognize. He was older, weathered, and carrying a satchel that read:Licensed to wed, weld, and whittle.
“Heard someone needed a rush job,” he said, his eyes kind beneath shaggy brows.
Noah leaned toward me. “That’s Smith. Retired pastor. He runs the general store now. And yes, he’s legal.” Just then, Noah groaned. “We haven’t got rings,” he said, casting an apologetic look at me.
Smith waved a hand. “Who needs rings? Let’s go.”
I looked between them. Noah, Dom, and Smith. The judge was already getting antsy in the courtroom next door.
