The words came easy, like he didn’t need to rehearse them. Like this part was already settled.
“Both of you. I want Mia growing up on this land, learning to ride, bringing friends home from school. I want Sunday mornings where we don’t have anywhere to be. I want…”
He stopped. The porch swing creaked once beneath us. I could feel the pause—not hesitation, but care.
“I want kids someday, if that’s something you want too.”
He breathed out, slow.
“And I want to grow old here. On this porch. Complaining about my knees and watching the sunset.”
“That’s very specific.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.”
The swing shifted beneath us. I stared back at the stars and tried to imagine it. Growing old on this porch. Kids running through the pastures. A lifetime of sunsets and Sunday mornings and this man beside me, steady and sure.
“What about you?”
He turned his head slightly, waiting.
“What do you want?”
The question I’d never let myself answer. Because wanting things meant losing them. Because hope was just disappointment waiting to happen. Because I’d learned early that the universe didn’t give people like me happy endings.
But sitting here, his hand warm in mine, the stars bright overhead, I let myself say it.
“I want to stop being afraid.” The words came out rough, surprising me. “I want to wake up and not immediately think about what could go wrong. I want to trust that good things can last.”
“And?”
“And I want this.” I gestured vaguely at the ranch, the house, him. “All of it. I never thought I’d have a place that felt like mine. I never thought I’d have someone who…” I stopped. Swallowed. “I never thought I’d have this.”
“Me neither.” His hand tightened on mine. “But I’m not letting it go.”
“Neither am I.”
We sat there as the night deepened, the stars wheeling slowly overhead, and I let myself believe it might be true.
That night, lying in bed, I let myself feel safe.
Not the cautious, qualified safety of someone who knows the other shoe is about to drop. Not the temporary reprieve between crises. Actual safety—bone-deep and real.
Todd was out there somewhere. I knew that. I knew that he’d find a way to make our lives hell again.
But right now, in this room, with Liam’s arm around me and his heartbeat steady against my back, I believed it might be okay. I believed we might actually make it.
The final hearing was in one week. Seven days, and Mia would be mine forever. Legally, permanently, irrevocably mine. No more court dates. No more judges. No more Todd lurking at the edges of our lives, threatening to take her away.
One week.
We just had to make it one more week.
I closed my eyes and let myself drift, Liam’s warmth solid beside me, the house quiet around us.
CHAPTER 16
Riley
