The fall was the easiest thing that had happened in the last two days. Between needing to be rescued, the gold wedding band that caught every bit of light, and being back in Montana facing my friends and family, I’d take the fall a hundred times over. At least that pain made sense.
Lincoln stood behind me like a soldier guarding the most prized possession. Broad shoulders relaxed, hands tucked into his jeans pockets, looking as if this wasn’t a firing squad. The entire kitchen vibrated with energy, their curiosity thick in theair. His silence said more than any explanation ever could. But my heart still beat a million miles an hour hearing him call me his wife. I mean, of course, I was his wife, but when he spoke to Lexie and said the word 'wife' as if it had weight, I felt the shift in my chest. It was a piece of paper, nothing more. That’s what I told myself. We’d go home, figure all this out, and I could already see an annulment in our future.
But did I want that?
The thought needled at me, catching under my ribs worse than the bruise. Meanwhile, my hip throbbed, my head pounded, and I had zero patience left. I just wanted to go home. Wherever that was now.
“Married,” Fallon said, voice tight. Her sharp gaze bounced between me and Lincoln like she was trying to peel us open, layer by layer. “You can’t just drop that on us and expect business as usual.”
I took a sip of coffee I didn’t even want, mainly to keep my mouth busy. The ceramic was too hot against my fingers, but it gave me something to hold on to. Then I smiled, sweet as spun sugar. “That’s exactly how marriage works, Fallon. One day you’re not, the next day you are. It’s legal, clean, and done. No reason to complicate it.”
Lincoln’s mouth twitched like he was fighting a laugh. “She’s not wrong.”
Griff didn’t find it funny. He thunked his mug onto the table so hard the coffee sloshed and ran down the side. “Is this because of the handprint wrapped around your arm? If word gets out you two eloped and don’t even live together, that could cause huge problems.” The men gathered around me, all nodding, forming a wall of protective stares.
“Oh no,” I cut in, heart sinking. “I’m not, you’ve got another thing coming if you think.”
“Yes,” Lexie said crisply. “If you’re married, you live like it. Same roof, same space. No exceptions.”
I actually laughed, short and sharp. “You want us to playhouse? That’s ridiculous.”
“Whatever you two did in Vegas that led to you returning to Montana married, you have to live it. When you both decide to tell me what’s going on, I’ll back you, but until then, you’re legally married.” She leaned back in her chair, arms folded, eyes cool and assessing. The way she said it made it sound like a court ruling.
And then Lincoln, traitor that he was, put his hand on my shoulder, the gold band shining under the kitchen lights like this was no big deal, and said, “Fine. We’ll do it.”
I nearly spit coffee across the table. “Excuse me?”
He didn’t even flinch. “It’s not like we can’t handle it. I’ve lived with people worse than you before.” His eyes slid across the room, and the four other men smirked and rolled their eyes like they’d heard that one before.
My jaw dropped. “You think I’m as bad as these four?” I pointed to Linc’s business partners.
That infuriating smirk curved his mouth. “Depends on the day.”
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, but my cheeks burned hot.
Nora clapped her hands together, all cheerful finality. “Settled. Kristin, you’ll move into Lincoln’s place. It’s going to be so great having everyone close.” Ever the eternal optimist, Nora grinned, and I wanted to snarl. But deep down, I had to admit, over the last few years, the friendships in this room were what I’d missed almost as much as Linc.
I almost choked. “His place? That shoebox on the ridge?”
“I built a new place,” Lincoln muttered.
“You what?” I shot back.
“I built a new place, like the one we’d always talked about, on the edge of the meadow.” His voice trailed off, quiet, almost uncertain.
The words hit harder than I expected. For a moment, the air felt thinner. My nostrils flared, but I refused to give any of them the satisfaction of seeing me crack. I folded my arms and sat back, muttering under my breath about having to listen to him snore again and his ridiculous coffee habits. Kipp tried and failed to hide his grin behind his mug.
“This should be fun,” Linc said. For him, maybe. For me? This was going to be hell.
By mid-afternoon, half my life had been dragged into Lincoln’s house. Boxes stacked in the truck bed, my duffel was slung over his shoulder like he’d been waiting years to do it. The drive out to his ranch was quiet, tension thick enough to chew.
The place was exactly like we had talked about that late summer night when the trees were changing, and we came out here before the nights turned cold. The two-story white house with a wraparound porch almost seemed to rise out of the ground as we climbed the hill. The siding shone faintly under the weak sun, and the porch swing swung in the breeze. It felt like stepping into a memory I wasn’t ready to face.
The front of the house faced west, so we could sit on the porch in the evening and talk about our day while the sun set peacefully. The swing creaked softly, wood against metal. I longed to curl up there and forget everything.
I didn’t need to see more to know this was the house we’d planned. Inside, it would have dark natural trim and a large staircase just inside the door. Three bedrooms upstairs, each with dormers that filled the space with light. I could almost see them already — the way we’d once dreamed of a family here, how I’d imagined our kids sitting in those window seats, watching the world turn gold at dusk.
The primary bedroom was located on the first floor, tucked away at the north end of the house, offering quiet and privacy. French doors opened onto a small terrace that overlooked the meadow. I used to imagine sitting out there in the mornings, coffee in hand, wrapped in a blanket while Lincoln fed the horses.
