"I'm glad you told me," I say honestly. I reach for her hand, and after a moment, she lets me take it. "And for what it's worth? Your ex is a fucking idiot. And so is your former best friend."
"That's what everyone keeps saying."
"Because it's true." I squeeze her hand. "Harper, I don't know what kind of future we have together. I don't know if this is just tonight or something more. But I do know that you deserve better than what they gave you. You deserve someone who looks at you the way I can't stop looking at you. Someone who wants you so badly they can barely think straight."
She's quiet for a long moment, just staring at our joined hands. "What if I stay?" she asks softly. "What if I actually make a life here? What would that look like?"
"Well," I say, trying to keep my voice light even though my heart is racing. "There are jobs in town. The diner is always looking for help. Or you could work at the library, or the hardware store. Hell, Sarah at the bar mentioned needing someone to help with bookkeeping."
"I could do bookkeeping," Harper muses. "I'm good with numbers."
"And my family, the guys at the ranch, they'd love you. Wade's with Sierra now, Tucker's with Marley, Boone just got together with Nicole. We're all figuring out this relationship stuff together. You'd fit right in."
"What about the ranch itself?"
"You'd love it," I tell her, meaning it. "Wide open spaces, beautiful views, good honest work. And I could teach you to ride a horse." I pause, then grin. "Since you clearly love riding so much."
She punches my arm, laughing. "Shut up."
"Made you smile though."
"You're impossible."
"And you like it."
She doesn't deny it. Instead, she leans her head on my shoulder, and we sit there in silence, watching the fireflies dance and the moon reflect in the pond.
"I think I want to stay," she finally says. "Not because I'm running from something anymore, but because I'm running toward something. Toward this. Toward you. Toward a life that might actually make me happy."
My chest feels tight in the best possible way. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She lifts her head to look at me. "But I need to take things one day at a time. I can't promise anything beyond that right now."
"One day at a time works for me," I assure her. "As long as those days include you."
She kisses me then, soft and sweet, and it feels different from the desperate kisses we shared earlier. This one feels like a promise. Like a beginning.
We settle back onto the bench, and she leans against me, her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close, and we just sit there: existing, watching the nature before us. The fireflies are still dancing around us, the moon is still reflecting perfectly in the pond, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, everything feels right.
"This is nice," Harper murmurs. "Just... being here. Not rushing anywhere."
"Yeah," I agree, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "It is."
"Tell me more about the ranch," she says. "What's a typical day like?"
So, I do. I tell her about waking up before dawn to feed the animals, about checking fences and fixing equipment that constantly breaks down. About the satisfaction of seeing cattle healthy and grazing, about watching the sun rise over the mountains while you're already knee-deep in work.
"It sounds peaceful," she says. "In a chaotic kind of way."
"That's exactly what it is." I laugh. "Peaceful chaos. Never a dull moment, but also never anything you can't handle if you just take it one problem at a time."
"Like life," she observes.
"Like life."
We fall quiet again, and I find myself running my fingers through her short hair. It's soft, silky, and I love the way it feels against my palm. Love that she's comfortable enough with me to just sit here, no expectations, no pressure.
"What about you?" I ask. "What's a typical day going to look like for Harper in Blackwater Falls?"
