But I wasn't done yet.
I took Jack's hand and turned to face my family, all of them gathered on the porch, all of them watching with various degrees of curiosity and hope.
"I need to say something," I announced.
The chatter died down. Daddy raised an eyebrow. Momma’s smile softened into something expectant.
I took a breath. This was it. The moment I'd been avoiding my whole life—standing in front of people who mattered and claiming something that could be taken away.
"A few days ago, someone asked me who Jack was. And I said—" My voice caught. I pushed through. "I said he was our new ranch hand. Like he was nobody. Like what we had was nothing." I looked at Jack, then back at my family. "I was wrong.I was scared, and I was wrong, and I almost lost him because I was too much of a coward to tell the truth."
Jack squeezed my hand. I squeezed back.
"So here's the truth. Jack isn't just a ranch hand. He isn't just someone who works here. He's—" I felt the tears coming and didn't fight them. "He's the man I love. The man I'm choosing. Today and tomorrow and every day after that, for as long as he'll have me."
"Forever sounds about right," Jack said quietly, and I laugh-cried at the interruption.
"He saved my life," I continued, my voice steadier now. "Not just in the pasture with the hogs—though yes, that too. He saved my life by seeing me. Really seeing me. The scared parts and the stubborn parts and all the walls I built to keep people out. He saw all of it and he stayed anyway. He waited for me to be brave enough to choose him back."
I turned to face Jack fully, taking both his hands, letting my family witness this.
"I choose you," I said. "Out loud. In front of everyone who matters to me. I choose you, Jack Remington. And I'm going to keep choosing you every single day until you get tired of hearing it."
"Never going to happen." His eyes were bright, his voice rough with emotion. "I'll never get tired of hearing it."
He kissed me then—right there in front of my whole family, in front of God and the stars and the land that had been Blackwood territory for four generations. It wasn't a polite kiss. It wasn't a careful kiss. It was the kind of kiss that claimed and promised and declared, and when we finally broke apart, I was dimly aware of cheering and whooping from the porch.
Clay wolf-whistled. Stephanie was actually crying. Owen had his arm around Louisa, both of them smiling like they'd been waiting for this moment for years.
"Well," Wyatt said dryly, "I guess that's settled."
"About damn time!” Clay shouted with a grin as everyone came to congratulate us. “We’ve been watching you two tiptoe around each other for weeks. I was getting sick of it.”
"Welcome to the family, son," Daddy said, and his voice was suspiciously thick.
But I barely heard any of it. I was too busy holding onto Jack, letting the reality sink in.
I was choosing love without a safety net, and for the first time in my life, it didn't feel like falling.
It felt like flying.
Later—after the congratulations and the dinner and the champagne toast that Daddy insisted on—I slipped away to the wedding tree.
It stood where it had always stood, ancient and patient, its branches spreading wide against the night sky. Blackwoods had been married under this tree. My parents. Wyatt and Ivy. Soon, Liam and Stephanie.
And maybe one day, me.
Jack found me there, because of course he did.
"Hey," he said softly, coming to stand beside me.
"Hey."
We looked at the tree together. The trunk was scarred with initials and dates, the bark worn smooth in places where hands had touched it over the decades.
"My parents got married under this tree. So did Liam’s parents. And Wyatt and Ivy just last year.” I said. “Momma said it would grow with the family—that every wedding under its branches would make the roots go deeper."
Jack wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. "That's a hell of a legacy."
