I blink hard, trying to hold it together, when the lights in the theater suddenly dim. I glance up and then back at Leo and Allie, who just shrug. Leo peeks behind the curtain to call for an assistant to figure out what’s happening with the lights.
Murmurs drift through the crowd, and my stomach flips when the bold and unmistakable opening notes of Journey’s “Faithfully” begin to play through the sound system.
Oh.
My.
God.
All the air leaves my lungs in a rush. I know that song. I knowwhat it means, and when I look toward the back of the theater, I see him.
Duke Faraday, in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, walking slowly down the center aisle like he owns the place. His eyes never leave mine and his smile could light the room if all the other bulbs suddenly went out at once. As he reaches the stage, my knees threaten to buckle as every nerve ending in my body lights up like I’ve been plugged into a socket.
“And here he is … the man behind it all … Duke Faraday, everyone,” I say, my arms motioning him toward the podium as the ballroom erupts in applause.
“How?” I whisper as Duke slips his hand around my waist and kisses me on the cheek.
“My brother gave me a ride,” he replies.
I look to the back of the ballroom to see Charlie Steele waving from the shadows. I find myself waving, and I want to say so many things at once, but Duke takes his place at the podium like he does this every day.
“Thank you, everyone, and thank you for giving Firebird Ranch this chance.” Duke shuffles some notes around on the podium, and I can’t help but stare. My heartbeat has slowed, but it’s still keeping up a good pace. It’s amazing how just standing next to him comforts me. How the sound of his voice puts me immediately at ease.
“Firebird Ranch is my life’s work. I’m a veteran, and I know what it feels like to come home from war only to discover that the hardest battle is the one you fight inside your own head.”
His voice grows quieter.
“Every person who walks through our gates carries invisible wounds. At Firebird, we believe that the only way out is through. You do have to feel to heal.”
He looks out at the audience, and it’s as if time has stopped.
Duke continues, and Leo cues images to coincide with whatDuke is saying as he discusses some of the veterans and their journeys, like Thatcher, Stedman, Millie, Georgia, and even Topper. As he brings the pitch to a close, no wall I’ve built inside myself can contain my tears.
“The story I’m telling you about Firebird Ranch isn’t just a story about healing,” he continues, glancing at me. “It’s also a love story. It’s a story about a woman who was brave enough to face her fears, and a man who was finally brave enough to follow his heart. As I stand before you now, there’s two things for which I’m certain: I am a man who found his purpose in those mountains and found his heart in the woman standing beside me.”
He then bows his head slightly. “Thank you.”
The crowd cheers, claps, and one by one, they begin to stand. Leo thanks Duke and the audience and begins to introduce his contribution, which gives Duke and I time to slip backstage. The second we’re out of sight of the cameras, I don’t wait for words, I launch myself into his arms.
His arms wrap around me so completely I disappear into him. I bury my face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in. He smells exactly like I remember, clean soap and cedar, with that hint of mountain air that seems permanently woven into his skin. His hand moves in slow circles against my back, and I realize I’m shaking. Not from nerves anymore, but from relief so overwhelming it threatens to melt my bones.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say into his shoulder.
“Well, you left something behind in Colorado, Trouble. Wanted to return it to you.”
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “What’s that?”
“Me.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “Duke, I didn’t know how else to … I just … I could never ask you to give up the ranch for me. I need you, but the ranch needs you more and?—”
He silences me with a kiss, deep and loving and sending everynerve in me over the edge. When we pull away, our foreheads are still touching. “You know, I really flew all this way just to tell you, you were wrong.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” he says, kissing me again. “Turns out, peoplecanfall in love in one summer.”
“Really?”
