"I'll manage." She grins up at me, and the sight of it makes my chest ache.
I take her hand and start up the trail. The path is familiar, less than fifteen minutes to the overlook, but now, every step feels weighted with significance. The scent of pine fills the air: damp earth and coming winter and her vanilla cutting through it all. An owl calls from somewhere deep in the trees, and wind sighs through the branches overhead.
She talks as we walk, something about Sophie's expansion plans for the bookstore and the new patio contractor coming Monday. I make the appropriate sounds, but my breathing is too loud in my ears. My boots scrape against the path. Her dress rustles with each step, and I'm only half-listening. The other half is focused on not tripping over roots, not dropping the ring box, not somehow ruining this before I even get the question out.
Halfway up, I stop walking. She bumps into me.
"What's wrong?"
What if she says no? The thought slams into me, irrational and terrifying. What if a week isn't enough? What if I'm asking too much too soon?
"Brooks?" Her hand squeezes mine.
I shake my head and start walking again. She's here. She said she's staying. She chose me even when I tried to run. That has to be enough.
The trail opens onto the rocky outcrop, and the valley spreads below us.
Pine Valley and Ridgeway AFB nestle between peaks, lights beginning to flicker on as dusk deepens. The bookstore is a tiny dot of warmth somewhere in the center, Elorie’s dream job. Mountains frame us in every direction, solid and permanent, and exactly what I want to build with her. The temperature has dropped, and she shivers slightly. I shrug out of my jacket and drape it around her shoulders.
"It's beautiful," she breathes, pulling the jacket close.
"Yeah." But I'm looking at her, not the view. She looks up at me.
Her gaze holds mine, and I see the moment she realizes what's happening. Her lips part. Her breathing goes shallow. But she doesn't pull away.
I swallow twice before the words come. My throat clicks.
"Elorie, I’m choosing to stay. Choosing to fight. Choosing you over fear." My voice shakes, and I have to pause. "Seven days ago, I was drowning. You grabbed my hand and refused to let go."
Tears already shine in her eyes, catching the sunset.
"You made me believe I was worth loving even when I was terrified and broken. You gave me a reason to stop running and start building something real." I pause, my chest tight. "I know it's fast. I know people will say we're crazy. But I've never been more sure of anything."
My hand shakes as I reach into my pocket. The ring box feels impossibly heavy, impossibly light. I pull it out and fumble with it, nearly dropping it.
Her hand flies to her mouth.
I open the box. The simple band catches the dying light, nothing flashy, nothing that screams, just solid and real and meant to last.
She's close enough I feel her breath hitch. Close enough I can feel her heat and see her pulse hammering at the base of her throat. I want to press my mouth there, feel that flutter against my lips, but first I need her answer.
"Marry me." The words tear out of me, raw and desperate. "Let me hold on to you forever. Let me spend the rest of my life proving I'll never let go.”
"Yes."
The word bursts from her before I finish, half sob and half laugh. Tears track down her cheeks, and she's not trying to stop them.
"Yes, Brooks. Yes, yes, yes."
My hands shake so hard I almost drop the ring. She reaches out and steadies them with hers, and together we slide the band onto her finger. She stares at it, simple, perfect, exactly right, and fresh tears spill over.
"The box is beautiful."
"I wanted you to have something that said Missus without screaming it."
The ring warms against her skin, solid proof that this is real. That she said yes. That she's mine.
Then my mouth crashes into hers.
