“I feel good,” I said, and meant it.
After breakfast, people drifted toward their chores. Boots stomped snow off by the door. Coats went back on. The house thinned from a roar to a murmur. I stood for a moment, watching everyone move around me, each person part of a machine that somehow worked even when half of it argued. It struck me that this was what home looked like. Not perfect. Not still. Just alive.
Lincoln came up behind me, sliding his arms around my waist. “You’re thinking again?”
“Always.”
“About what?”
“How we got here,” I said. “And how much I like it.”
He pressed a kiss to the back of my head. “You planning on going anywhere?”
“Not a chance.”
He turned me in his arms, his eyes soft but serious. “Good. Because I’m not letting you.”
I laughed, tucking my chin against his chest. “You say that like I’d try.”
“Wouldn’t matter if you did. I’d follow you anyway.”
“Romantic fool.”
“Only for you.”
Outside, the dogs started barking, some kind of commotion by the barn. Griff yelled something about a loose calf, and the sound of running boots followed. Lincoln groaned and grabbed his coat.
“Duty calls,” he said, already half-smiling.
I reached for the zipper and helped him with it, tugging it closed against the cold. “Go on, hero. I’ll be here when you get back.”
“You better,” he said, then bent to kiss me once more before heading out.
The door shut behind him, and the house fell still again. I stood there, hand resting over my stomach, listening to the muffled sounds of the day beyond the walls. It was not silence, not really. It was the sound of life happening exactly as it should.
I moved to the window and watched Lincoln cross the yard toward the barn. The snow crunched under his boots, his breath a cloud in the cold. The dogs circled his legs, tails high, waiting for him to tell them what to do. He moved like he belongedto this place, like every fence post and frozen puddle knew his name.
When Lincoln disappeared inside the barn, I leaned my forehead against the cold glass. The sunlight caught the ring on my finger, throwing a thin gold line across the window. It glowed there for a second before fading, and I smiled.
Julie’s voice carried faintly from the kitchen behind me. “Coffee’s still hot if you want it, dear.”
I turned, smiling. “Always.”
She poured me a mug and joined me at the counter. For a minute, we just stood there, looking out at the yard, both of us quiet in the same easy way.
“You’re settled now,” she said finally.
“I am.”
She nodded, satisfied. “Good. This place needs women who know how to stay.”
“I used to be better at running.”
She chuckled. “We all were, once.”
I looked back out the window at Lincoln and the others. The sight of him there, steady, sure, exactly where he belonged, filled me with a peace so full it almost hurt.
Julie sipped her coffee. “You’re going to be a good mama.”
