When she opened her eyes, they were already shining. Her throat worked like she was trying not to cry. That woman, who had barked at Nash about minerals and told Ryder to watch his footing, and stared down fear with her chin up, was standing infront of me, shaking, yet still meeting my eyes with her whole heart showing.
“We did that for survival,” I said. “But this time, I want this for us.”
I dropped to one knee in the packed snow. The cold bit through the denim of my jeans right away, up through bone and muscle, but it only made everything feel sharper, truer. I pulled the box from my pocket and opened it. The ring inside caught the firelight and flashed.
“Kristin Felder, will you marry me again? Here. With every person who matters to us standing right here to hear you say it.”
Her hand came up to her mouth. Her shoulders shook once. For a second, she did not speak. The fire cracked. Breath hung in the air. The world narrowed to her face.
Then she nodded, and the word came out clear and strong.
“Yes.”
I heard the cheer, but it sounded far away for a moment. Like I was standing under water and everything was muffled. My ears filled with a rushing sound, and my chest felt too full.
I felt hands clapping my back, and someone whooped loud enough to scare the horses in the far pens, and I heard Ryder yell that he knew it, and he was going to win the bet with Nash, and I heard Nash swear he was not crying, which meant he was, and I heard Kipp say about damn time under his breath.
All of it blurred. The only thing sharp was her.
I stood, and she stepped in close and kissed me. It was not for show. It was slow, sure, and familiar. It was home. It tasted like smoke and winter air and the cider she had been drinking. Her hands slid up over my chest and hooked in the collar of my jacket, and held on like she had every right to.
When she pulled back, her breath shook against my cheek.
“You idiot,” she whispered, the words barely there. “Of course, yes.”
My chest finally let go.
I slid the ring onto her finger. It settled there like it had always belonged there. It had, in one way or another, since the first time I held her and felt the world stop fighting me for a second.
The crowd started counting without waiting for permission.
Ten
Nine
Eight
Her forehead leaned against mine, her nose brushing mine, her eyes half closed.
Seven
Six
Five
Her fingers curled into the front of my jacket and held on.
Four
Three
Two
Her voice was barely there, just for me. “I love you.”
One
The fire crackled, and everyone yelled, "Happy New Year!" Somebody shook a bottle, and it sprayed foam and fizz in a perfect arc, and Ryder shouted that now it was a party. Nash started passing hugs like handshakes. Griffin handed Kipp a mug and told him to stop pretending he was strict and admit he was sentimental.
