Phoebe lifted her gaze. “You were… frightened.”
Braxton’s breath shook. “Phoebe…”
She stepped closer. “You were afraid of offering me this.” She gestured toward the parlor windows and the ranch beyond. “Afraid it would be too hard, too wild.”
Braxton nodded once, because denying it would be an insult.
Phoebe’s mouth softened. “I thought I wanted a quiet life. But maybe what I wanted was a life where I wasn’t always bracing for the next blow.”
Braxton stared at her.
Phoebe met his gaze. “And I don’t feel like I have to brace here,” she said.
His chest squeezed painfully. “You don’t know the hard parts yet.”
Phoebe’s eyes didn’t waver. “No,” she agreed. “But I know what it feels like to be alone in a crowded city and to work hard and still feel disposable. And I know what it feels like to be treated as though I should be grateful for scraps.”
She paused, and her voice softened further. “And now I know what it feels like when a man looks at me like I’m… worth choosing.”
Braxton’s throat closed.
Phoebe reached out and laid her hand lightly over his. “I didn’t come here because your life is easy. I came here because your life is honest.”
Braxton’s eyes burned. He looked down quickly, but it didn’t help.
Phoebe’s fingers tightened. “Ask me,” she whispered.
Braxton lowered himself to one knee before the tree.
The room grew quiet, as if the house had decided to listen to what he had to say. He opened the box. The ring gleamed softly in the candlelight. “Phoebe,” he began, voice rough. “I can’t promise you perfection. I can’t promise you a life without hard days.”
Phoebe’s lips parted as her eyes misted again.
Braxton swallowed. “But I can promise you I won’t run from you again. I won’t let fear do my choosing. I’ll choose you every day.” He drew a breath. “Phoebe, I love you. Will you…”
“Yes!” Phoebe blurted, before he could finish. She bit her lower lip as a tear cut a path down one cheek.
Braxton froze.
She laughed. “A thousand times yes.” She blinked back tears. “I love you too.”
Braxton laughed as he reached for her hand, careful and reverent, and slid the ring onto her finger.
Phoebe looked down at it, then back at him. “You’re going to have to stand up,” she murmured.
Braxton rose, and the moment he was upright she closed the distance between them, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She pressed her cheek against his chest like she belonged there.
He held her, careful at first, then tighter, as if his body finally understood what his heart had been trying to say.
A knock sounded at the front door.
Braxton blinked, startled. Phoebe pulled back a little, both turning as his mother cut across the foyer.
When she opened the door, Preacher Ewes stood there, hat in hand, cheeks red from the cold, his eyes bright with humor. “Well,” he said, catching sight of Braxton and Phoebe by the tree. “Looks like I arrived at the right time.”
Ma’s mouth quirked. “You did,” she said. “I was eavesdropping here in the hall and heard the whole thing. Come in before your ears freeze off.”
The preacher stepped inside, rubbing his hands. “Merry Christmas,” he said warmly. His gaze landed on the ring Phoebe now wore. His smile widened. “Did you get to witness the proposal too, Dorthea?”
