Too late.
“And if Miss Kentwood would join us by the fence line near the arena,” the announcer continues, clearly delighted with himself, “we’ve got something special planned.”
Something special.
My pulse rockets.
I look up, and that’s when I see them.
Jesse.
Wyatt.
Marshall.
Standing together near the fence line. Together in a way that feels intentional enough to knock the breath out of my lungs.
Jesse’s hat is off, crushed nervously in his hands.
Wyatt’s posture is calm but braced, holding still against a strong wind.
Marshall’s shoulders are squared, grounded, unmovable. He’s decided this moment matters, and nothing is going to ruin it.
My heart stumbles.
“Oh,” I breathe.
Eliza tugs my hand urgently. “Daddy is being very weird.”
Caleb adds, “He’s always strange.”
That does it.
Applause starts up again, encouraging and curious.
Someone whistles. Someone else shouts my name like this is a victory lap and not the most emotionally vulnerable walk of my life.
I hand my customer a jar without charging her. She doesn’t complain.
My legs feel unreal as I step out from behind the stall. The noise of the rodeo dulls. The world has gently wrapped everything else in cotton.
Each step toward them is walking deeper into a truth I’ve already known.
Jesse sees me first.
His smile is soft. Nervous. Real.
“Hey, Honeybee,” he says when I reach them.
My chest aches. “Hey.”
Wyatt exhales slowly, like he’s been holding it. “We’re sorry for… the announcement.”
Marshall mutters, “We tried subtle.”
Jesse snorts. “We failed.”
Laughter ripples through the crowd.
