Ethan drained his mug. “Are you nervous?” he asked.
Cole shook his head. “No. Not anymore.”
Ethan believed him. The change was visible, bone-deep. The old coil of tension, the flinch in the jaw or the clench in the shoulders—gone. In its place, a man who had made a choice and was willing to see it through.
Cole lent Ethan a better-fitting flannel, and Ethan rolled the sleeves up twice, savoring the faint charge of wearing something that smelled like Cole. They brushed their teeth side by side at the sink, trading glances in the mirror.
“Ready?” Cole asked.
“Let’s do it.”
They walked to the main lodge together, not quite holding hands, but close enough that every now and then their fingers brushed.
The crowd in front of the lodge was waiting. Riley was orchestrating the whole affair, camera in hand. Harper stood at the center, hair pulled into a warrior’s braid, arms crossed but eyes soft. Jack lurked at the periphery.
Riley spotted them and broke into a grin. “There they are! The only cowboys in Montana who look like they just stepped off a cologne commercial. Get over here.”
Ethan and Cole sidled in. For a while it was chaos—Riley ordering them around, repositioning them so the light hit just right, yelling things like “No one looks natural, you all look like you’re being held hostage!” Harper flipped him off, which only made Riley giggle harder.
After a few test shots, Riley declared himself satisfied and set the timer for a group photo. “Everyone in! Yes, even you, grumpy,” he said to Jack, who rolled his eyes but complied.
They lined up—Jack, Harper, then Riley, with Ethan and Cole at the edge.
The shutter clicked, and for a second, time stopped.
Riley reset the timer. “Okay, this one is for the Christmas card. Make a stupid face!”
The second click caught them all off-guard, mid-laugh, mouths open and eyes crinkled with the kind of joy that only comes at the end of something huge.
Harper broke from the lineup first, her arms already wide, yanking Ethan into a hug that felt as oversized and fierce as her personality. “You’re a better man than you know,” she said into his ear, and he could hear the catch in her voice. “Don’t forget it, city boy. Seriously. Don’t.”
Ethan didn’t even try to hide his smile. He hugged her back, hard enough that his arms ached with the effort. “Thank you. For everything. Seriously—if you hadn’t pushed, I’d probably still be hiding and pretending not to be a mess.”
She pulled away, blinking fast, like she was angry at her own tear ducts for betraying her. “Just don’t fuck it up, alright? I expect postcards, pictures and video calls.”
Jack, true to form, avoided all eye contact until the last minute. Then he grabbed Cole by the hand, shook it, and yanked him into a brief, violent hug. “You’re the best damn guide I’ve ever had,” he mumbled, tears building in his eyes, “You taught me a thing or two about how to be a better man.” He gave Cole one final squeeze, then let go and turned to Ethan, his usual bravado cracking open to reveal something raw underneath. "You know, I was wrong about you Hayes," he said, voice rough with emotion. "You've got more courage than most men I've ever met. Coming here, finding yourself—finding him." He nodded toward Cole, swallowing hard. "You make me believe people can actually change."
Ethan's throat tightened. “That means more than you know, Jack. I… wasn’t sure who I was when I came here. But now—” He looked down at his hands, then up at Cole. “Now I know. I wouldn't have found any of this courage without all of you showing me the way." He clasped Jack's shoulder, holding his gaze. "Thank you for being part of that journey."
Jack stepped away and wiped the water from his eyes.
Riley hugged everyone twice, and on the third go-around, Ethan caught the wet glimmer in Riley’s eyes. “Don’t you dare,” Ethan said.
Riley grinned, then gave in, the tears tracking down his face. “I’m not crying, you’re crying,” He blinked rapidly, then gave up the pretense. "Ethan, I’m so proud of you. Finding yourself, finding love—that's the bravest thing I've ever seen. You found yourself out here, Ethan. And I got to witness it. That's a gift I'll never forget." He crushed Ethan in a hug that was all ribcage and bone and fierce loyalty. "Promise me you won't forget who you are now, who you fought to become."
Ethan's throat tightened, the words barely making it past the knot of emotion. "I won't. I promise. And Riley—thank you for seeing me, even when I couldn't see myself."
One by one, the group splintered, but not before phone numbers were exchanged and promises made to stay in touch.
Once the last round of hugs was spent, the group splintered. Harper was first to go, tossing her duffle into the battered Jeep and slamming the door with finality. She paused, arm out the window, and yelled, “Take care of him, Walker! If you break him, I will break you!” before tearing off down the gravel lane, music blaring. There was a kind of poetry to it—loud, unrepentant, blunt as hell.
Jack followed, waiting at the edge of the driveway for the ranch shuttle. When it finally arrived, he climbed aboard with one last, theatrical salute, like a soldier shipping out. He wavedfrom the window, a smirk plastered on his face, but even at this distance Ethan could see the red rims around his eyes.
Riley lingered. He made every goodbye last longer than strictly necessary, weaving between the cabins to gather last little fragments of memory, or maybe just to delay the inevitable. When he finally did leave, it was with a long, backward walk and a wave that didn’t drop until Ethan and Cole were out of sight.
The world got quiet. For the first time in a week, there was no laughter echoing across the meadow, no clatter from the dining hall, just the hush of wind through the aspens and the far-off whicker of horses.
Cole and Ethan found themselves alone in the driveway, just past the sign that read Walker’s Edge Ranch. The place looked the same as it always had, but to Ethan, it was changed—charged, even, as if it had finally become something alive. It was as if the world had inhaled and was holding the breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
