“I mean, I can stop feeling like I need to protect her from getting her heart broken by the wrong guy, because you’re not the wrong guy. You’re exactly who she needs, even if it took you way too long to figure it out.”
I laugh, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. “I’m pretty blind, aren’t I?”
“Blind as a bat,” he agrees. “I knew she threw herself at you before, and I knew you let her down easy.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Truett shrugs. “Because it had to be real. If I’d pushed, it might have happened sooner, but it wouldn’t have been right. You both had to come to it on your own terms, in your own time. Love can’t be forced.”
“No,” I agree, thinking of how natural it felt when Aubree finally kissed me, how right it was when we finally stopped fighting what was between us. “It can’t.”
“Besides,” Truett adds with a grin that reminds me of the boy I grew up with. “Now I get to watch you deal with all her quirks and habits. Do you know she rearranges furniture when she’s stressed?”
I laugh. “I do now.”
“And she hates when people leave dishes in the sink overnight.”
“Noted.”
“Oh, and she’s absolutely terrible at directions. Gets lost going to places she’s been a hundred times.”
“I’ll make sure to drive.”
Truett’s laughter turns into a cough, and I can see the exhaustion creeping into his features. The conversation has taken a lot out of him, but I can tell he needed to say these things.
“I should let you rest,” I say, standing from my chair.
“Yeah,” he agrees, settling back against his pillows. “But Jesse?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For loving her the way she deserves to be loved. For seeing her the way she deserves to be seen. For being the man she deserves.”
The gratitude in his voice nearly undoes me. “Thank you for trusting me with her.”
“Take care of her, Jesse. And let her take care of you too. She needs to feel needed, but not in the way that everyone depends on her for everything. Take care of her with love and respect. Like you want her to be part of your life, not because you need her to fix things or solve problems, but because you can’t imagine your life without her in it.”
“I can’t,” I tell him honestly. “I tried for years to imagine it, and I can’t.”
“Good,” Truett says, his eyes already drifting closed. “Then you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
I leave him to rest, my mind turning over everything he’s said. The weight of his trust, his blessing, settles into my bones like an oath. I won’t let him down. More importantly, I won’t let Aubree down.
The afternoon sun is warm on my face as I walk toward the barn, my heart lighter than it’s been in years. I can hear movement inside, the sound of a pitchfork scraping against concrete, and I know without looking that Aubree is in there working.
I find her in the third stall, mucking it out with more force than necessary. Her honey-blonde hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, loose strands curling around her face in the humid air. She’s wearing an old tank top and jeans that hug her curves in all the right ways, and there’s a light sheen of sweat on her skin that makes my mouth go dry.
She doesn’t hear me approach, too focused on her task, muttering under her breath about stubborn horses and lazy ranch hands. I lean against the stall door, content to watch her for a moment. There’s something about seeing her like this, sleeves rolled up and working hard, that makes my chest tight with affection.
“You know,” I say finally. “I’m sure you could pay high school kids to do that for you.”
She jumps, spinning around with the pitchfork still in her hands. When she sees me, her startled expression melts into a smile that makes my knees weak.
“You scared me,” she accuses, but there’s no real anger in it.
