“But,” Aspen continued, exchanging a quick look with Boone, “wedohave some news. Not as exciting as Penny and Mac’s… but still big.”
Boone smiled and nodded. “We’re moving in together.”
“We’re building a house,” Aspen added, beaming now. “On the ranch.”
Another round of shouts and claps followed. More hugs. More disbelief. The kind of joy that ripples through people like a stone dropped in still water.
“I’m going to needallthe decorating advice,” Aspen said, turning to us girls. “This place is going to be dreamy. Rustic meets modern meets Pinterest board of my dreams.”
And then, Theo cleared her throat with that signature glint in her eye.
“Well,” she said, lifting her chin, “since we’re all sharing…”
The barn quieted again, just slightly, a pause of anticipation hanging in the air.
“I accepted that gig in Montana,” she announced. “The one I mentioned a few months ago.”
Penny gasped. “Thatgig?”
I remembered it too, the way she’d talked about it in passing, barely containing her excitement even then. It was an opportunity that had lit her up from the inside out.
Theo nodded, pride and nerves flickering across her face. “I’ll be gone a couple of months. It’s big, and it’s scary, but it’s right.”
Even Frankie cheered with excitement, which made everyone laugh.
“That means two months of you and me, bug,” he said with a smile directed right at Frankie.
“Whatever you need, I’m here,” I offered.
“Me too,” Logan chimed in.
“I’ll need the practice,” Penny said.
“As long as you’re okay with her coming to the bar, I’m down too. I grew up there and I turned out all right,” Mac added.
My heart swelled, torn between the thrill of watching my friends’ lives bloom and the ache that came with change. We hadn’t even made it past the barn doors tonight before life had started shifting beneath our feet. But somehow, in the warmth of this place, with these people, it all felt right.
We were growing up and it was messy, beautiful, unpredictable. And we were doing it together.
Reflection is a strange, beautiful thing.
It has a way of casting light on the past—on all the twists, missteps, and heartbreaks—and revealing the purpose in the pain. In the thick of it, when you’re gasping for air and the road ahead feels endless, it’s easy to believe you’ll never make it out. That you’ll never feel joy again. Never find peace.
But this was my reminder:
The light always returns.
It may flicker. It may be faint. But itwillshine through.
And if there is ever a place to remember that, it could be found in Faircloud, Texas.
Because they’ll always leave the porch light on.
EPILOGUE
TWO YEARS LATER
Ellie
