Everything I was afraid of losing… I found instead.
The moment that stays with me happens later, on the porch.
I’m getting a drink when I see Jacob approach Kitty. He’s holding wildflowers from Ruth’s garden.
“For the salve,” he says gruffly. “The eczema. It helped.”
Kitty takes the flowers, her expression soft. “I’m glad.”
Jacob nods once, awkward and stiff, then turns away. But he doesn’t go back to his seat.
He walks to where Ben stands alone, watching the dancing.
He’s carrying a bottle of whiskey.
“Figured we should toast the kids,” Jacob says.
Ben stares at him. The silence stretches so long I think he’s going to refuse.
Then he takes the bottle.
They sit on the porch together. Don’t talk. Don’t rehash the decades-long feud or the wounds that caused it. Just sit. Two brothers. Passing a bottle back and forth. Watching their children build something new.
Daniel appears beside me, following my gaze.
“Is that?—”
“Yeah.”
“They’re not fighting.”
I smile. “No.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “I don’t remember the last time they were in the same space without shouting.”
I lean into him. “Maybe that’s what family is. Not the absence of wounds, but the willingness to heal anyway.”
He presses a kiss to my temple. “When did you get so wise?”
“I married a Sutton. Wisdom is a survival requirement.”
Night falls. Guests drift away or settle into the bunkhouse. The fairy lights glow against the darkness like earthbound stars.
Daniel takes my hand. “Ready?”
My pulse kicks. We haven’t been intimate since that afternoon at the lake, and I’m desperate for my husband.
“For what?” I tease.
His smile is slow and devastating. “To go home, Mrs. Sutton.”
Home. Our room. Our bed. Our wedding night.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I’m ready.”
He leads me toward the house, up the porch steps, past the door that’s always open because he can’t stand feeling trapped. Into the hallway. Up the stairs.
To our room.
