We moved through the room the same way we would move through a pasture we knew by heart. Easy. Natural. This was not a party where people lined up politely and waited to be told what to do. This was grab a fork and carve off what you want, pass the mashed potatoes over your shoulder, and ask if this pan is spicy or safe. Or taking someone else's chair and pulling them onto your lap if they complained. This was to pour somebody a drink because their hands were full and they just came in from checking calves. If you dropped something, three people bent to clean it up before it hit the floor.
I fixed a plate for Kristin before she could argue and pushed it into her hands. Her appetite had returned slowly over the last few days. Watching her lift her fork and actually take a bite without forcing it made something in my chest loosen that had been tight since the night of the rodeo. Her shoulders dropped half an inch. Her jaw unclenched. She rolled her eyes at me when she caught me staring, but she kept eating.
We ended up at the far end of the big room near the wood stove. The stove threw off a thick, steady heat that felt like it went straight into your bones. The fire inside snapped and popped, sending shadows up the wall. The heat felt good after the cold walk. Steam curled off the plates we balanced on our knees.
People circled up, and stories started rolling. Work stories first because that is always the opener. You start with something everybody knows because it lets the room find its rhythm.
Who got bucked off in June? Who claimed they didn’t and then had three witnesses stand up and correct the record. The time Nash drove along the fence line and came back missing half a bumper, swearing he never hit anything. He still maintained to this day that the post had jumped out in front of him. The timeRyder tried to flirt with the vet and nearly passed out when she stitched a calf in front of him. Ryder claimed this version of the story was exaggerated. No one believed him. Fallon swore she had pictures. Ryder said that was an invasion of privacy.
Kristin laughed. Not polite. Real. It came from low in her chest and rose up easily.
Heads turned when they heard it. You could feel it. The shift in the room. It was fast, but it was there. It was as if everyone had been holding their breath since that night, and they all let a little of it go at the same time. Shoulders eased. Mouths softened. Eyes went bright in that way people get when they know for sure that the person they love is still in there.
Kipp cut his eyes to me and gave me one single nod.
I felt it too.
After plates were cleared, cards came out. Griffin dealt. He always dealt because nobody trusted Ryder to deal without sneaking something under the table, and nobody trusted Nash not to fold on a winning hand just because someone smiled at him.
Kristin played at my side, her knee pressed against mine under the table. She was sharp and merciless, taking half the pot from Kipp in under ten minutes.
“You cheat,” he said.
“You talk too much,” she replied with a grin. He barked a laugh and gave it up.
Time slipped by easily. A plate passed here, jokes thrown there, refills placed in my hand without me asking. The pop and hiss of something frying in the kitchen. Fallon walking by and dropping a kiss on Nash’s cheek like it was muscle memory. The kind of comfort you cannot buy and you can’t fake. You only get it by bleeding beside people. You only get it by staying.
Around eleven, somebody turned the music down, and Kipp said we should move outside before the fire burned down tonothing but coals. Ryder and Nash had built the stack high that afternoon with old fence posts, scrap lumber, and whatever else we had been saying we would haul off since September. It was already throwing heat across the yard by the time we stepped out.
The night was clear and cold, and the fire made everything glow like copper. Sparks lifted and drifted up into the black above us and then faded out. Faces turned gold. Breath puffed in the air in little clouds. Everyone spread into a loose circle around the flames. Kids ran in tight loops, wired past their bedtimes, and sugared up on whatever Fallon had let them sneak. Ryder handed out mugs, and I didn’t ask what was in them. It didn’t matter; it tasted sweet, warm, and familiar, and hit the back of my throat like a memory.
Kristin stood under my arm. Her head rested against my shoulder. Her hands were tucked into my jacket, her fingers fisted quietly in the fabric at my ribs. She fit against me like she’d always belonged there.
Tonight was different. Tonight wasn’t about fear. Tonight was ours.
Kipp lifted his voice. Almost there, he said. Ten minutes.
People started talking about resolutions because they always did so in the last stretch before midnight, as if saying one good thing out loud might make it stick. Ryder said he resolved to keep his mouth shut, and everyone laughed because that was never going to happen in any version of this world or the next. Nash said he was going to actually fix that hinge instead of pretending it was fine, and half the group groaned like witnesses in a courtroom. Griffin said he was going to stop letting Kipp rope him into extra work. Kipp said that was cute.
Kristin tipped her face up toward me. Her eyes reflected the firelight, making them look almost molten. “You all right?” she whispered.
“Yeah,” I said.
“You sure?”
“Yes.” I pulled in a slow breath. My heart hammered hard enough that I felt it in my throat. My fingers were not steady. I had stared down plenty of people that should have rattled me more than this. Fights in alleys, men who wanted to test themselves on me. A loaded weapon in the wrong hands. A bleeding horse at two in the morning in freezing rain. None of that touched me like this did.
I caught Kipp's eye over the fire and gave him a slight nod. His brows lifted. He understood fast. He always did.
He cleared his throat and raised his mug. “Hold up, he called out. Linc wants a word.”
Every head turned. Conversation quieted. The circle tightened without anyone stepping forward. The kids bounced in place and watched, their eyes wide, because if adults got quiet, it meant something was about to happen, and kids could always sense that.
Kristin looked from Kipp back to me. Her brow drew in. Linc, she said, low, like she was the only one who existed in that second and the only one I needed to answer to.
I stepped in front of her, not far, just enough to face her fully. My hands were shaking. I did not bother to hide it. She had seen me every way a person can be seen. There was no point pretending I was not rattled by her.
“The first time I asked you, it wasn’t romantic or planned; it was a life or death situation. And your yes wasn’t exactly enthusiastic.” I smiled, and everyone around us laughed quietly. Kristin closed her eyes and shook her head.
