Something shifts in my chest, deep and certain. I wrap an arm around her and pull her close. “Then yeah, I think I will.”
She leans into me without another word, and for a few minutes, the whole world feels simple. Like this is what it was all building toward, trust, family, and a future you don’t see coming until it’s right there in front of you.
And maybe, just maybe, a tiara on your head to remind you what really matters.
Later that evening, Emmy’s tucked in and the stars are starting to blink awake. I’m on the porch nursing a beer when I hear the crunch of gravel in the drive. Headlights sweep across the pasture, and I’m on my feet before the engine cuts.
Avery steps out, slow and tired-looking, but her eyes find mine first. And whatever she’s carrying, she sets it down the second I pull her into my arms.
“You okay?” I ask, voice low against her hair.
She nods, then pulls back just enough to look up at me. “It’s a lot. But I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to be here.”
So we sit, legs tangled on the porch swing, her head on my shoulder, silence settling like a soft blanket. Theonly sound is the chirp of crickets and the occasional creak of the swing.
After a while, she shifts to face me. “You ever think about what this place could be, five, ten years from now?”
“All the time,” I admit. “You go first.”
She grins sleepily. “Alright. I want that barn finished and full, horses we’ve trained ourselves. Kids coming out to learn, maybe even a couple riding competitions. Emmy running the place by the time she’s twelve.
I chuckle. “Twelve’s a little ambitious.”
“You haven’t met her ambition, oh yeah, and I remember what you said about helping handicap kids ride ponies. That makes my heart happy.”
I nod. “True.”
“I want to fix up the bunkhouse too,” she adds. “Make it livable again. Maybe hire on a few full-time trainers. And I want a front gate that says Painted Sky Ranch in big, bold letters. So people know this place matters.”
“It already does,” I say.
She reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together. “What about you?”
I take a breath. “I want to build a proper arena. Big enough for rodeo nights. Teach Emmy how to rope.Maybe host events, fundraisers, stuff that brings the town together.”
A beat passes.
“And I want a house,” I add, then pause, swallowing down the flutter in my chest. Saying it out loud feels big, like crossing a line into a future I didn’t know I wanted until her.
“One with a wraparound porch and a kitchen big enough for dance parties in our socks. One where you wake up next to me every morning.”
She’s quiet for a second. Then she shifts a little closer, brushing her thumb along the inside of my wrist. Her eyes search mine like she’s weighing the risk of what comes next.
“I love you, Cash,” she says, voice quiet but steady. No hesitation. No looking away.
The words settle over me like rain after drought, unexpected, needed, and entirely perfect.
I tilt her chin gently so she’s looking straight at me. “I love you too, Avery. More than I ever thought I could.”
I press a kiss to her forehead. “We're gonna build that dream, one nail, one fence post, one sunset at a time.”
She leans into me, and the swing rocks gently, carrying us forward into something that finally feels like more than a maybe.
Something that feels like home.
But just as we settle into that easy stillness, Avery’s phone buzzes again on the table beside us. She glances at the screen, her body tensing.
“It’s Mason,” she says quietly.
