“It’s a good thing you got the ring right,” she said, voice steady despite the tightness in her chest. “I would have kicked your ass off this horse and made you walk home.”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He slid the ring onto her finger, and it fit like it had always been there.
She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, slow and certain, tasting salt and sun and something that felt like home, and beneath it, the faint contortion of his expression, the quiet tremor in his lips as he let her in.
“Yes,” she whispered against his mouth. “Let’s make it official.”
His exhale was subtle, but she felt it, a release, a letting go. Something heavy leaving him. Something that had been braced for impact for years finally lowering its guard.
They rode back slower, her hand resting over his, the ring catching the light every time she moved. Her heart catching fire every time she thought about a life that moved forward with him, not in spite of the chaos, but because of it. Because they’d faced it. Together.
As Jet carried them home, the wind at their backs, she leaned into him, content. “I love you, Kelly.”
“It’s a good thing you said that. I was about to kick your ass off this horse and make you walk home.”
Her laugh echoed across the fields all the way to Turning Point.
Morning came soft and pale through the open windows, light spilling across white sheets and olive-painted walls. Blair woke slowly, aware first of warmth and weight. Kelly was curled against her, one arm heavy across her ribs, his breath steady against her temple. He rarely slept like this, fully relaxed, completely unguarded. But this morning, he had. The air still held the quiet heat of the night before. Her skin hummed with it. The memory of his mouth, his hands, the way he’d said her name like a vow instead of a sound.
She shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, turning until they were face-to-face. A sliver of dawn caught the sharp line of his jaw, the stubborn stubble already shadowing it. His lashes were thick, dark crescents against his cheekbones, and his lips, full and slightly parted, looked softer in sleep than they ever did awake. The solid weight of his thigh pressed between hers, a slow, grounding pressure. She smiled, a private, knowing thing, as she felt the firm, insistent heat of him against her belly. Men were such delicious, predictable creatures when it came to their libido.
Then the thought surfaced with a gasp. He asked me to marry him.
Her smile softened, something tender and wide opening in her chest. She lifted her left hand into the pale light, turning it this way and that. The blush stone caught the morning sun. It looked different now. Softer. Warmer. She turned her wrist, studying the setting more closely. That’s when she saw it. Beneath the stone, tucked where only she would notice, was a tiny emerald. Deep green. Hidden. Intentional. Her breath stilled. Of course he had done that. Olive barns. White fencing. Green earth. His world woven quietly beneath hers.
She slid the ring off and turned it in her fingers. Inside the band, engraved in clean, precise lettering. You’re my easy every day. Her throat tightened. The only easy day was yesterday. That had been his creed. His armor. His way of bracing against whatever came next. He had chosen her as ease. As peace. As home.
His eyelids fluttered open, hazy with sleep but already fixed on her. “You staring at it like it’s gonna bite you?” he mumbled, voice rough and low.
She smiled, tracing the line of his brow with her thumb. “You’re ridiculous.”
He shifted closer, pressing a lazy kiss to her shoulder. “You said yes and I have a witness.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, Jet, and he never lies.”
She rolled onto her back, bringing him with her. He hovered over her now, hair rumpled, eyes still half heavy with sleep. She slipped the ring back on, then sent her hands through all that silky mess. “You sentimental bastard.”
One brow lifted. “That good or bad?”
Hooking her hand behind his neck, she brought him down for a soft, gentle kiss, so in love her chest ached. “You’re my easy every day, too,” she whispered.
His expression changed at that into something deep, settling. “Yeah?” he murmured.
“Yeah.”
His mouth found hers this time, slow and unhurried, the kind of kiss that didn’t ask permission because it already belonged. The morning light climbed higher. The world beyond the windows could wait. He shifted over her, deliberate and warm, and she laughed softly against his mouth.
“Careful,” she teased. “You’ve got fences to build.”
“That’s a problem, babe.” He kissed her again, lower this time. “I forgot how. I tore down all my fences. Best damn thing I ever did.”
