I nodded, my throat tightening. "Because of Ma."
"Not just your mother," he said gently. "This town has a way of talking. People will have opinions about us being together. Some of them won't be kind."
"Because you're a man. And I'm a man," I stated, though we both knew there was more to it than that.
Dan's grip on my hand tightened slightly. "Partly that, but also because of who we are. Me being a deputy. You being a McKenzie. And..." He hesitated.
"And because I'm different," I finished for him, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "Because people think I don't understand things."
Dan turned toward me, his free hand coming up to touch my cheek, guiding my face until I was looking at him. "I don't want to hide what we are to each other," he said firmly. "I want to be able to walk down Main Street holding your hand if that's what we want to do. I want to take you to dinner at The Edge and not care who sees us together. But I need you to be prepared for what that might mean."
The thought of walking through town with Dan's hand in mine made my heart race with equal parts terror and longing. I tried to imagine the looks we'd get, the whispers that would follow us. Then I tried to imagine hiding whatever this was between us, sneaking around like we were doing something shameful.
"Ma says these feelings are wrong for someone like me," I admitted, the words falling heavy between us. "She says I'm confused. That I don't understand what I'm feeling."
A muscle twitched in Dan's jaw, his eyes hardening for just a moment before softening again as they met mine. "Your mother loves you," he said carefully. "She wants to protect you. I understand that. But she's wrong about this, Harlow. Being different—processing information differently, seeing the world in your own unique way—that doesn't mean you don't know your own heart."
"How can you be sure?" I asked, the question coming from that deep place of doubt Ma's words had planted in me years ago. "How do you know I understand what... what love is supposed to be?"
Dan's expression turned thoughtful as he considered my question. "Do you remember telling me about tracking? How you notice signs others miss—broken twigs, bent grass, disturbed earth?"
I nodded, not sure where he was going with this.
"That's how you see the world. Different from me, different from most people. But that doesn't make what you see less real or less valid. In fact, sometimes I think you see more clearly than the rest of us." His fingers squeezed mine. "It's the same with your heart, Harlow. You might feel things differently, but that doesn't make those feelings any less real. Any less yours."
I let his words sink in, turning them over in my mind like river stones in my palm. The evening light filtered through the oak leaves above us, casting dappled patterns of golden-orange across our joined hands. I watched the play of light and shadow, thinking about how both were real, both necessary.
"I want this," I said finally, my voice steadier than I expected. "I want to try. Even if it's hard."
Dan's smile bloomed slow and beautiful, like those wildflowers that opened at dusk rather than dawn. "That's all I needed to hear," he said, lifting our joined hands to press a kiss against my knuckles.
The simple gesture made my chest ache with a feeling so big I wasn't sure how my body contained it. Maybe this was what love felt like—this mixture of terror and joy, this sense that something precious and fragile had been placed in my hands.
"I've never had this before," I admitted. "Never even thought I could."
"Neither have I," Dan said, surprising me. "Not like this. Not something that feels this real."
The sun had nearly set now, the sky deepening from orange to purple at the edges. Soon it would be dark, and I'd need to head back to the farm before Ma started to worry. But for now, in this moment, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—I could have something I'd always been told wasn't meant for someone like me.
The words tumbled out of me before I could stop them, spilling my deepest fear into the space between us. "What if Ilove you more than you love me?" I asked, my voice catching. "What if you realize I'm too much work? That I don't understand things fast enough or say the right things when I should?" Ma always said patience wore thin eventually, even with people who thought they had plenty of it.
Dan's expression changed, softening around the edges like butter left in the sun. He reached for both my hands, taking them in his. My hands were so much bigger than his, could do so much damage if I wasn't careful, but he held them like they were something precious.
"I can't promise we won't hurt each other sometimes," he said, his eyes steady on mine. "Anyone who tells you different is lying. People who care about each other still make mistakes, still say the wrong thing, still have bad days." His thumbs moved over my knuckles in small circles. "What I can promise is that I'll always be honest with you. I'll never make you feel like you're a burden or too much work. And I will never, ever make you feel like you're anything less than extraordinary."
Extraordinary. The word settled in my chest like a warm stone. Not special in the way Ma meant it—like I needed to be handled with extra care. But special in a way that made me feel strong instead of broken.
"I've spent my whole life being treated like a child," I said, the admission painful but necessary. "Like I couldn't be trusted to know what I want or what's good for me."
Dan nodded, his expression serious. "I know. And I won't do that to you, Harlow. There might be things you need help understanding sometimes, just like there are things I need your help with. But I will never treat you like you don't know your own mind or heart."
Something unlocked in my chest at his words—a door I hadn't known was closed until it suddenly wasn't anymore. For the first time, I let myself imagine a future where I wasn'tjust the "slow" McKenzie brother who needed looking after. A future where I could be simply a man in love with another man, building something that belonged to us and no one else.
The sun was barely visible now, just a sliver of fire on the horizon. Its dying light painted the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks that reflected off the river's surface. A pair of ducks flew overhead, silhouetted against the colorful backdrop, heading home for the night.
Soon, the stars would come out, and I'd have to go back to the farm, back to Ma's watchful eyes and careful questions, but not yet.
Dan moved closer, reaching up to touch my face with a gentleness that made my heart ache. "I'd like to kiss you again," he said softly. "If that's okay."
