“It doesn’t have to.” I cup her cheek with one hand. “What matters is this: I want forever.”
She inhales sharply.
“I want you,” I say. “I want to adopt Junie. I want the mess, the chaos, the good days, the hard ones. I want your stubbornness and your fire and your soft heart that you pretend isn’t soft.” My voice drops, rough. “I want all of you.”
Her lips tremble.
I take a breath and let the last wall come down. “And I want you to marry me.”
She gasps. Hands flying to her mouth. Tears spill fast and hard down her cheeks.
“Briar Tate,” I murmur, pulling her into me, “say yes.”
She chokes out a laugh through her sobs. “Of course yes. Yes, Saxon. God—yes.”
Relief slams into me like a gust of heat. I wrap my arms around her, lifting her off her feet as she cries against my shoulder. My throat burns. I crush her close. Not gentle. Not careful. Not afraid anymore.
Somewhere behind us, the crew—who absolutely did not actually leave—erupt in cheers. I hear a whistle, a shout, a “Get it, Cap!”
But Briar doesn’t hear them. She’s pressed into me, shaking, laughing through tears, whispering my name like it’s something she’s afraid to lose. When I set her down, she cups my face with both hands.
“You’re sure?” she whispers.
I take her wrists, bring her palms to my mouth, and kiss them both.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
She breaks. Again. Soft, beautiful, undone.
I kiss her—slowly at first, then deeper, claiming her all over again, tasting the tears and the joy and the promise between us. Her fingers slide into my hair, tugging, pulling me closer. Someone behind us hoots.
I pull back just enough to growl, “Get out.”
Boots shuffle. Doors slam. Quiet at last.
Briar laughs, cheeks flushed. “You scared them.”
“No. I motivated them.”
She snorts. God, I love her.
A month later the wedding is chaos. Small-town, over-the-top, embarrassingly public chaos. The whole damn mountain shows up—even people I swear I’ve never met.
Rowan and my mom cry. Margie Warner, the owner of Devil’s Peak Lodge, threatens to kidnap me if I ever hurt Briar. Junie throws flower petals like she’s fighting in a war. And when Briar walks toward me in that simple white dress, hair down, eyes locked on mine—I forget how to breathe. We exchange vows. Kiss while the entire crowd screams. And the second the reception starts, I’m half-feral with the need to get her alone.
She’s radiant. Glowing. Laughing with her teacher friends and spinning Junie around on the dance floor. She catches me staring and blushes. Shy. Beautiful. Mine.
I don’t last ten more minutes.
I walk across the room, grab her hand, and pull her down the hallway toward the quieter part of the building.
“Saxon!” she laughs breathlessly. “People will?—”
“No one’s looking.”
“I think they are, actually?—”
I push her gently against the wall and she gasps. My hand presses beside her head. My body cages hers. Her chest rises fast, eyes going wide in the low hallway light.
