Everything felt right in a way I'd never experienced before—a sense of belonging so profound it made my chest ache.
"This is ours now," Harlow said, his deep voice rumbling through his chest against my back. The simple declaration contained multitudes—pride, wonder, promise.
I turned in his arms, needing suddenly to see his face, to look into those eyes that had never judged me, never found me wanting. The fading sunlight caught in his beard, turning the brown strands to copper. His eyes, warm and steady, held mine with that unwavering gaze that had first drawn me to him.
Something shifted inside me then, a final piece falling into place. The feeling that had been growing for months, that had sustained me through hospital stays and painful rehabilitation, through rebuilding and healing—it had a name. A simple name for the most complex emotion I'd ever experienced.
"I love you, Harlow," I said, the words tumbling out with an urgency I couldn't contain. Tears welled in my eyes, but I didn't bother trying to hide them. Not from him. Never from him. "I spent my whole life searching for this—not just a place to live, but somewhere I truly belong. You've given me that."
I reached up, my hand cupping his bearded cheek. His skin was warm against my palm, alive and real and mine. "The cabin is wonderful, but you are my home. Not four walls and a roof, but you, your heart."
Harlow went very still, the way he did when something overwhelmed him and he needed time to process it. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, wide with wonder.
"You love me," he said finally, the words half statement, half question, as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd heard.
"I do," I confirmed, my thumb stroking the strong line of his jaw. "Like lovers do, like soulmates do." The words might have seemed overly sentimental coming from someone else, directed at someone else. But with Harlow, only the truest, deepest expressions would do. "My heart belongs to you now, Harlow. Maybe it always has."
A tear escaped, tracking down his cheek and into his beard. I caught it with my thumb, this physical evidence of his emotion as precious to me as any gift.
His hands left my waist, and for a moment I felt bereft without their anchoring weight. But then he reached into the pocket of his jeans, movements uncharacteristically clumsy with emotion. When his hand reemerged, something small and gold caught the last rays of the setting sun.
"Dan," he said, his voice rough and uncertain in a way I rarely heard from him. "I want—I mean—" He stopped, drew a deep breath, and tried again. "Ma gave me this. It was her father's ring."
He held it between his thick fingers, the simple gold band looking almost delicate against his work-roughened skin. "She said if we truly loved each other, we should make a commitment no one could take from us."
My breath caught in my throat. After everything—Collins' attempt to destroy us, months of separation during my recovery, rebuilding both the barn and our lives—Hetty McKenzie had given her blessing in the most tangible way possible.
"Are you proposing, Harlow McKenzie?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, afraid to break the spell of the moment.
Doubt clouded his expression, his hand closing protectively around the ring as if he might put it away again. "Is it too soon? We don't have to—I mean, I know it's only been—"
I reached for his hand, gently uncurling his fingers until the ring lay exposed on his palm once more. The simple band gleamed in the fading light, unpretentious and perfect, like the man offering it to me.
"Put it on me?" I asked, holding out my left hand, steady despite the emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
The doubt in his eyes gave way to something else—hope, wonder, and a love so pure it made my throat tight. In that moment, with the sky painted in fiery oranges and pinks behind him, Harlow looked like something mythic, a guardian spirit from the forest who had chosen to share his life with me.
Harlow McKenzie, who most of the town still saw as slow or simple or less-than. Harlow, who had run into a burning building to save his father. Harlow, who loved with a directness and honesty that put everyone else to shame.
My Harlow, who was asking me to be his, officially, forever.
I wiggled my fingers slightly, an encouragement and a promise. "I'm not going anywhere, Harlow. Not ever. This is exactly what I want."
The smile that spread across his face was like sunrise breaking over the mountains—gradual at first, then all at once blindingly beautiful.
Pure joy transformed Harlow's face as he took the ring and gently slid it onto my finger. His hands, so large and powerful they could bend metal and break wood, trembled slightly with the delicacy of this task.
The gold band felt warm against my skin, like it had absorbed some of Harlow's heat, his essence. It was a perfect fit—not too tight, not too loose—as if it had been waiting all along to find its place on my hand.
"Perfect," I whispered, the word catching in my throat as I admired the simple band. Nothing fancy or ornate, just like Harlow himself—straightforward, solid, enduring.
Harlow didn't say anything, just pulled me close, one hand cradling the back of my head as his lips found mine. This wasn't the passionate, hungry kiss we'd shared in our bedroom earlier. This was something deeper, more sacred—souls connecting, promises being made without words. I melted against him, my ringed hand pressed between us, directly over his heart.
The clearing of throats—plural, not singular—broke the spell. We pulled apart, startled, and I turned to find the entire McKenzie family standing at the edge of the clearing, watching us with varying expressions of amusement, satisfaction, and in Hetty's case, tear-filled eyes.
Knox stood with his arm around Newt, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide a grin behind his hand. Ransom leaned casually against a tree, looking smug as if he'd personally arranged everything. Quiad and Bodean flanked Jebediah, who wore an expression that seemed torn between embarrassmentat witnessing such a private moment and gruff approval. Behind them all stood Burnell and Minnie, the family patriarchs, their weathered faces creased with smiles.
Heat rushed to my face as I realized they'd all witnessed Harlow's proposal and my acceptance. But Harlow just tightened his arm around my waist, his chest puffing out with pride rather than shrinking with embarrassment.
