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Dolly plated up the food and set it down in front of us without a word, then poured us each a glass of sweet tea. “You two eat up, now,” she said, gesturing toward our plates. “I’m gonna finish up these biscuits for tomorrow.”

“Thanks Aunt Dolly,” I said, still feeling like the world’s biggest ass. “I mean it.”

She nodded, that tired look in her eyes again. “Don’t go runnin’ off on me just yet, okay?”

“I won’t,” I replied. “I promise.”

“He ain’t goin’ anywhere,” West smiled, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me tight against him. “I’m gonna keep him if that’s alright with you, Dolly.”

Her tired look was replaced with a brilliant smile. “That sounds real nice, West. You don’t need my approval, but you’ve got it, sugar.”

I picked up my fork and finally let myself eat, the brisket melting apart soft and smoky on my tongue. It tasted like Dolly’s cooking always did. Like home. Dolly moved around in the kitchen, humming low under her breath while she rolled out her biscuit dough.

“Hey Buttercup,” West said, giving me a nudge. “Do you want my carrots?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sensation almost alien after the past few days. “Sure thing. But I don’t have any chips for you this time.”

He leaned in closer, whispering in my ear. “Well maybe you can give me somethin’ else later?”

I laughed again, a shiver running down my spine and settling low. “You’re lucky I like carrots, West.” I took one from his plate, taking a bite. “Very lucky.”

He just smiled. “I sure am. Luckiest man alive to have you, Buttercup.”

“Even after all this?” I asked, gesturing to nothing in particular.

He nodded. “Honestly, the thief angle is sorta attractive. I didn’t know you were such a bad boy. But I guess I should’ve known you were a thief from the very beginning.” He paused, his gaze locking on mine. “Because you stole my heart.”

“Oh my god,” I sighed. “That was cheesy as hell, West.”

“You love it.”

I reached out, wrapping my hand around the back of his neck and pulled him close. “I do. I love everything about you.”

“I love you too, Buttercup.”

Epilogue: Rhett

One Month Later

The day of the fair in Sagebrush had finally come. And I, after working for Marcus for the past month to make it all come together, was happy to see everything running smoothly. The extra security was in place, parking was well managed, and even Marcus himself seemed more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. Then, to top it all off, Westley was there beside me, looking at all my hard work with a smile, his fingers laced in mine out in the open where everyone could see us.

And nobody seemed to care.

The fairgrounds smelled like fried dough and hay dust, the same mix I’d grown up with every single year of my life. Except this year it felt different settling into my lungs. Lighter, somehow. Like I had room to breathe it in without something sitting heavy on my chest at the same time. I could be who I was this year. There was nothing left to hide anymore.

“You did good, Buttercup,” West said, squeezing my hand as we walked past the pie contest tent, where Mrs. Baxter was already red in the face arguing with the judges about crust thickness, a baby tucked in her arms. “Real good.”

“Don’t go gettin’ all sappy on me in public,” I said, though I didn’t let go of his hand, not for one second. “Folks’ll think you’ve gone soft.”

“I have gone soft. Soft as butter, for you.” He bumped his shoulder against mine, grinning that easy grin that still made my heart skip a beat even a month in. “Best decision I ever made.”

We wandered past the ring toss and the 4-H pens, past Dolly’s booth where she was selling slices of pie faster than she could cut them, flour still dusted on her apron same as always. She caught sight of us and waved her pie server in the air like a flag, hollering something about saving us two slices of peach pie for us for later. I waved back, feeling that warmth settle deep in my soul, the kind that didn’t come from guilt or fear anymore. Just from being loved, plain and simple, by people who’d earned the right to call themselves family. From that feeling of finally being home.

Marcus found us near the dunking booth, his sheriff’s hat pushed back on his head, sweat beading at his temples from running around all morning making sure nothing caught fire or fell over. He looked tired in that satisfied, but no longer stressed out of his mind.

“Rhett,” he said, nodding at me, then at West, something easy passing between the three of us that didn’t need words. “Y’all havin’ a good time?”

“Best fair Sagebrush has ever seen,” I said, and meant it. “Thanks to you.”