I raised my hand, and she gave me a nod. “And you’re Quiad. You the one who sent me the blueprints for a porch swing last month?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Quiad said, his voice steady.
“Well, it’s a good design,” she said. “We’ll get through this quick so you can get back to building it.”
The clerk handed us a pair of forms to sign. Our names were already typed in: Levi Hardesty, Quiad McKenzie.
When we sat, the judge read us the legal stuff—“solemnize this union,” “for richer or poorer,” all that—but it felt like background noise. I watched the way Quiad’s hands didn’t shake, the way his jaw was set, and I felt the old fear drain away, replaced by something hotter and more dangerous.
“You ready for the vows?” the judge asked.
Quiad looked at me, and for a second, all the oxygen in the room disappeared. “I am,” he said.
She motioned us to stand. “You may exchange your own vows, if you like.”
I swallowed. My tongue felt three sizes too big for my mouth, but I said what I’d rehearsed in the mirror: “I, Levi, take you, Quiad, to be my partner, my family, my home. I promise to love you, even when you’re a pain in the ass, even when you wake up at five a.m. and ruin the best part of the bed. I promise to build a life with you, to fight for you, to never let you go. I’m yours.”
My hands shook, but I made it through. I glanced over at Ma, who was already dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
The judge looked at Quiad. “Your turn.”
He didn’t flinch. He just stared at me, brown eyes locked on like he could see down to my bones.
“Levi, you’re the reason I believe in second chances,” he said. “I spent a long time thinking I’d always be alone, that nobody could see past what I’d become. But you did. You saw the best in me when I didn’t know it was there. I swear to keep you safe, to make you laugh, to never take you for granted. You’re my family. My home. And you always will be.”
The words hit me like a shovel to the chest. I tried to say “I love you” but it came out a wet, choked mess.
The judge smiled. “All right, Bodean, the rings?”
Bodean strutted up, holding a little velvet box like it was the Hope Diamond. He popped it open and revealed two platinum bands, gleaming in the fluorescent light.
I turned to Quiad, who looked as surprised as I was.
He leaned close and whispered, “Had ’em made at Roswell’s. Figured you deserved better than pawn shop silver.”
I took the bigger ring and slid it onto his finger. It fit perfectly, of course. He did the same to me, his hands big and careful, the metal cold at first but warming instantly against my skin.
The judge nodded. “By the power vested in me, by the great state of Oregon, I pronounce you husbands. You may kiss.”
We did.
It wasn’t delicate. It wasn’t even subtle. I heard someone in the back—probably Ransom—wolf whistle, and Ma let out a full-on sob. But I didn’t care. I wrapped my arms around Quiad’s neck and pulled him in, tasted the salt of my own tears on his lips, felt his beard scrape my cheek.
He kissed me like he was starving for it. Like he’d spent his whole life waiting for this.
When we finally broke apart, I saw the judge smiling, the bailiff grinning, and even the fern in the corner seemed to be standing a little straighter.
Quiad pressed his forehead to mine, his breath rough. He mouthed, “Mine,” so quiet only I could hear it.
“Yours,” I whispered, and meant it.
Behind us, the family exploded. Hugs, backslaps, Ma hugging me so hard she nearly broke a rib, Gramps shaking my hand like I’d just won the state fair. Even Knox cracked a smile and clapped me on the shoulder.
I turned to see Pa, who just stood there, arms folded. But his eyes were shining, and for the first time ever, he looked proud of me. Not just tolerant. Not just resigned. Proud.
I smiled, dazed and a little dizzy, the wedding band heavy and warm on my finger. It was official. I was a McKenzie now. And nothing in the world was going to change that.
Ma cried through most of the ceremony and kept at it all the way out the courthouse steps. When we got to the sidewalk, she started fanning her face with the marriage certificate, declaring that she’d never been so proud of her boys—even if one of them was technically adopted by marriage and “raised up feral by a she-wolf in a trailer park.”
