"I love you." Those three words little words landed heavy and real. He didn’t hesitate, or act like he was worried about what they might cost him. "I'm in love with you, and I'm done worrying about what everyone else decides what that means."
The reaction rolled through the room in waves. A sharp inhale came from somewhere behind me. Low murmurs started up near the pool tables. Someone muttered something that sounded like "Christ" under their breath. The tension thickened, surprise mixing with judgment, curiosity blending with disapproval.
Tanner didn't move. He stood there choosing me in the way that actually mattered. This wasn’t private where it was easy, but here, where it cost him the control he'd spent his whole life maintaining. Where it meant facing down the feud and the family name and the expectations of everyone who'd grown up believing Hollisters and Kincaids couldn't be anything but enemies.
He'd come here and said it out loud. Claimed me anyway. Made it clear that whatever we were to each other wasn't temporary, wasn't negotiable, and wasn't going to stay hidden just because people would talk.
That was what shifted it. Not the words, though they mattered. Not the declaration itself, though I'd needed it. But the choice underneath—the deliberate, public commitment to stop protecting himself and start protecting us. To risk the thing he valued most because keeping it meant losing me.
I set my whiskey down and stopped trying not to smile. "I love you too, Tanner Hollister."
The words came easier than I expected, and I didn’t hold back. Because he'd proven in front of everyone who mattered and plenty who didn't that he wasn't going to hide me again. That he'd learned what it actually meant to choose someone. Not in the moments when it was convenient or private, but in the ones where it changed everything.
I stepped toward him, closing the distance he'd left between us, my hand coming up to rest against his chest where his heart beat steady and strong under my palm. His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me close enough that it wouldn’t leave room for anyone watching to wonder what this was between us.
Tanner's hand tightened at my waist. His other hand came up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheekbone in a gesture so familiar it made my chest ache.
"Dance with me, sweet girl."
I smiled at him as I looped my arms over his shoulders. "Took you long enough to ask."
ROMAN
I didn’t have the time or the desire to stop. The car sat on the shoulder a few miles outside of town. Hazard lights blinked against the dark. I was close enough to catch the pale, yellow paint in my headlights, but I didn’t recognize the car.
I wanted to keep driving. Whoever it was could sort out their own problems, call someone else, wait for daylight or roadside assistance, or do whatever the hell people did when their vehicles quit on them in the middle of nowhere.
Instead, I took my foot off the gas, pulled off behind the car, and cut the engine. In Mustang Mountain, when someone's stranded and you've got the tools to help, you stop. Simple as that.
I stepped out into the cold, my boots crunching on the gravel, the May air cool but not cold. The car's hood was closed and the engine silent. There wasn’t any smoke, and I didn’t catch the smell of burnt rubber or oil. If I could offer help, I would, but I hoped whoever sat inside the car had already called for a tow and would send me on my way.
A woman got out of the driver’s side and turned toward me. She was a curvy little thing and stood there with her arms crossed, her weight shifted to one hip, and her body language settling somewhere between irritated and defiant. Something inside my chest stirred as I let my gaze run over her, catching on the flare of her hips, and the way her shirt fit tight enough to leave nothing to the imagination.
I tried to shake it off. Whoever she was, she was way out of my league, even before I had the accident that left my face looking like I’d met the wrong end of a chainsaw.
She didn’t look panicked or scared. Her stance made her look like she was personally offended by the inconvenience of a breakdown. Her dark blonde hair caught the light from my truck. She had it pulled back from her face, making it easy to watch her tracking me in the dark.
Most people looked away when I stepped into their line of sight. They dropped their gaze or found something else to focus on so it wouldn’t look like they were staring at the ragged scar that cut down the side of my face. But she held her ground and watched me approach, her gaze steady and unflinching.
"My car broke down," she said.
"Looks like it."
“And I haven’t had much of a signal since Marion.” Her mouth twitched into something not quite a smile. "I don't suppose you're a mechanic."
"Close enough."
I moved past her toward the hood, not waiting for permission. She stepped to the side to give me some space. I crouched down, running my hand along the edge of the hood until I found the release.
"Pop the hood?"
She leaned in through the driver's side window, found the lever, and the hood lifted with a soft click. I raised it the rest of the way and leaned in, noticing the faint warmth from the engine block.
I checked the battery terminals first. That was always the simplest answer. My fingers brushed against the connections and found the negative terminal loose. Corrosion had built up around the clamp enough to cut the power completely. It was an easy fix… the kind of thing that only needed thirty seconds and a steady hand.
I didn't offer an explanation, just grabbed the wrench I’d shoved in my pocket, tightened the connection, then scraped the edge of the terminal clean with the flat of my knife blade. The corrosion flaked away, and I wiped my knife against my jeans before securing the clamp.
"Try it now."
