He shuts his mouth slowly.
I slide my hand onto his under the table, squeezing. “See?” I whisper. “Family.”
The rest of the meal is warm, loud, and messy in the best way. Cole watches Aria chase Daisy through the yard, a softness coating every line of his face. Every time his eyes land on me, something inside me settles—something deep, something I’ve never felt with anyone else.
By the time the sun dips toward the horizon, most of the plates are scraped clean. Flora is packing up her dessert trays; Ava is humming to Luella, Dad is arguing with Jace about whose recipe the barbecue rub belongs to.
And Cole… Cole is staring at me like he’s turning over a decision he’s already made.
He steps closer, voice low. “Can I steal you for a bit?”
“Where are we going?” I ask, smiling.
“You’ll see.”
Aria runs past us, breathless and laughing, and Cole pauses long enough to kiss the top of her head. “Stay with Daisy, baby. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay!” she chirps.
Cole takes my hand then—not secretly, not cautiously, but openly, like he’s claiming something he’s no longer afraid of losing. We’ve come so far to get here and I couldn’t be happier.
We walk past the barn and fences, toward the ridge behind the property where the land rolls into endless pastures. The horses graze lazily under the orange sky, tails flicking, hooves shifting in the dust. It smells like sun-warmed grass, cedar, and the faint musk of horses settling in for the night.
Cole helps me onto my mare, Juniper, then swings up onto his gelding beside me. We ride side by side, slow and easy, silence thick with everything we haven’t said but will.
My ribs ache slightly, but I don’t mind. Not with him beside me, not with this sunset painting his skin gold.
He finally breaks the quiet. “I’ve been thinking.”
“That sounds dangerous,” I tease.
He huffs a soft laugh but stays serious. “About you. About us. About everything that almost happened.”
My pulse jumps. “Cole—“
“I thought I had nothing to offer you,” he confesses, voice low, steady. “Thought you deserved someone younger, whole, someone without baggage and scars.”
My throat tightens. “Cole…”
“But then I realized something.” He shifts in the saddle, turning his horse slightly toward mine. “You don’t need someone perfect. You need someone who’ll fight for you, choose you, show up for you every day, even when it’s hard.” He swallows. “And that’s me. It’s always been me.”
The sunset behind him flares brighter, like the world itself is listening.
He reaches into his pocket, and my breath catches.
“Ella Shiloh Morgan,” he says softly, voice trembling just enough to break me open, “I am in love with you—deeply, stupidly, permanently—and I want to spend the rest of my life proving it. So…” He opens the small velvet box.
A ring glints inside, simple, elegant, stunning. The kind meant to be worn, not shown off. The kind meant for me.
“Will you marry me?”
For a second, all I can do is stare at him with my heart beating too fast, too loud. Then the tears come, burning hot. “Yes,” I whisper, voice breaking. “Cole, yes.”
He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a decade, sliding the ring onto my ring finger. It’s a perfect fit.
We lean across the space between our horses, hands shaking, mouths meeting in a kiss that feels like everything: relief, love, promise, and our future. His fingers cradle my jaw as he deepens the kiss, steady but reverent, like he’s memorizing every inch of me.
Cole rests his forehead against mine, breath warm, hands still holding my waist like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go. The sunset stretches behind him—gold melting into rose—casting him in soft light. The kind of light that makes a man look like something you could believe in forever.
