"And we'll build it again," Boone says, grinning.
I look at the three of them—stubborn, impossible, mine—and realize they’re all right. We'll keep building and rebuilding, not because we have to, but because we choose to.
"Forever's going to be exhausting with you three."
"You love it," Jesse says.
He's not wrong.
EPILOGUE
Callie
Six MonthsLater
The Cedar Ridge Fall Festival is in full swing, because this town only knows how to communicate through festivals and gossip. This time, though, the Thompson-McCoy booth isn’t split down the middle with duct tape and mutual hatred.
Yay, us.
“RITA NO!”
Too late. Rita’s already escaped her pen, cleared a four-foot fence, and is making a beeline for the corn dog stand.
“Whose turn was it to watch her?” I shout, already running after Cedar Ridge’s top criminal. Actually, Cedar Ridge’s only criminal.
“Boone’s on duty!” Jesse and Wyatt yell in unison.
“I was teaching children about goat safety!” Boone defends, jogging up beside me.
“By letting them wear foam helmets and practice headbutting?”
Rita’s reached the corn dog stand. The vendor sees her coming and tries to protect his inventory, but Rita’s full of tricks. She feints left, goes right, and snatches three corn dogs in one smooth motion.
“She’s evolving,” Wyatt observes with what sounds like pride.
“She’s a menace,” I correct, finally catching up and grabbing her collar. She looks at me with zero remorse, a corn dog protruding from her mouth like a cigar.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the festival announcer booms over the speakers, “the judges have made their decision for this year’s Special Livestock Award!”
“That’s a new category,” Jesse notes.
“They created it specifically for Rita,” I explain. “After last year’s incident.”
“Which incident?”
“All of them.”
“And the winner is... surprising no one... RITA THE GOAT!”
The crowd cheers. Rita bleats through her corn dog, spraying mustard on my new boots. My expensive new boots.
“Come on, champion,” I say, dragging her toward the stage.
The mayor hands me a giant purple ribbon, keeping a safe distance from Rita. Smart man. She ate his gavel, his chain of office, and his toupee over the past six months.
I pin the ribbon to Rita’s collar, right next to her previous ribbon for “Biggest Personality.”
“Speech!” someone yells from the crowd.
