“Mrs. Delaney will make us famous.”
“Infamous,” I correct.
“Same thing in Cedar Ridge.”
She reaches up and touches my face, her fingers gentle against my jaw. “Thank you. For finding me. For letting me cry. For not trying to fix everything.”
“I always try to fix everything.”
“Not this time. This time, you let me be a mess.”
“You’re not a mess. You’re human.”
“I’m a human mess.”
“The best kind.”
She kisses me, and it’s nothing like the desperate heat of before. This is something else, something that makes my chest tight and my brain stop working.
When she pulls back, Rita is chewing on my sleeve.
“Rita!”
“It’s fine,” I say, not taking my eyes off Callie. “She can have the whole shirt if she wants.”
“Don’t encourage her. She already has a collection of stolen clothing.”
“A collection?”
“Three belts, two shirts, and a pair of Jesse’s underwear that I’m not asking questions about.”
“Good call.”
She checks her phone and sighs at the notification count. “Sixty-seven new comments. I’m afraid to look.”
“Then don’t.”
“I have to eventually.”
“No, you don’t. You could throw your phone in the pond and live off the grid. Raise goats professionally. Become a hermit.”
“A hermit with three cowboys?”
“We’d visit on weekends.” She laughs, and it’s the best sound I’ve heard all day. “Okay. I’m ready to go back in and face whatever half-baked plan Jesse’s cooked up.”
“You sure?”
“No. But I’m tired of sitting in my truck crying while Rita judges me.”
“Rita shouldn’t judge. At least not until she gets her own act together,” I say.
“My emotional support goat is also my chaos manager. It’s very on-brand for my life.”
We climb out of the truck, Rita hopping down after us with surprising grace.
As we walk back toward the house, Callie takes my hand.
“Hey, Wyatt?”
