Текст книги "Change Rein"

Автор книги: Anne Jolin

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 9 страниц)

T HE AIR IS SO WARM.

Sticking one foot out from underneath the covers, I seek refuge in a cold draft, but come up short. I’m burning up. Sweat is beading on my forehead from the fever, which hasn’t let me rest since the accident yesterday. Each movement feels as if it’s taking place underwater. My backside protests as I roll onto my stomach, the swelling and pain barely manageable, even with the painkillers.

The air feels wrong. It’s too thick.

The sound of hooves repeatedly connecting with wood and a horse’s wild neigh combat their way into my muted senses.

Panic.

I recognize the anxiety in the sound of the horses’ strained cries just as my lungs heave, a violent cough assaulting my chest.

Smoke.

My eyes fly open as I move to all fours, forcing myself off the bed. It’s too much movement too soon after the flare-up of my injury, but fight or flight has kicked in and there won’t be much time. The room is heavy with the first billows of smoke coming from somewhere else in the barn. It’s so hard to breathe.

The barn is on fire.

I hold the sleeve of his shirt against my mouth, sucking in lungsful of air as safely and as frequently as I can muster. The long-sleeve flannel no longer smells like him, or maybe it does, but all I can smell now is fear. Fear and smoke.

Pressing the back of my other hand against the door, I sigh when it doesn’t feel hot. There’s no fire in the loft stairwell. I slide my feet into the work boots next to the door, forgoing the time to put pants on over my underwear.

The aches in my body protest wildly as I descend the stairs two at a time, gripping the hot steel railing as if it were a direct lifeline to my safety—perhaps it is.

Beneath the second floor, the barn is a maze of horror. Smoke has nearly engulfed the entire main floor, and the sound of horses’ cries threatens to buckle my knees. After stumbling to the barn doors, I pull them open one at a time. It occurs to me that fire needs oxygen to spread, so this could increase the burn, but I won’t have time to take the horses out one at a time. They’ll have to run, and they’ll need the space.

Looking up at Daddy’s house on the hill, I briefly consider calling for help, but the effort would be futile. They’d never hear me. The thunder is rolling in and I’m already short of breath.

Using the wall as a guide, I pad towards the stalls closest to me. Flames are licking the rafters above the aisle, and adrenaline floods my system at the sight.

Street is the first horse I reach. After sliding the latch on his stall, I swing the door open and scream at him with everything I have. “Run! Git! Go!” I choke on the air, banging on the wall simultaneously. The sound coupled with the burning fire scares him and he bolts from his stall.

I repeat the process with the other horses. Each time I move faster, the pain in my back increases steadily. In less than two minutes, I clear the right side and then move to the left. I hunch lower to the ground, where the air is still a little thinner, and hug the stalls tight. It makes it easier for me to find the latches, but also, the horses are panicking and they’d barely notice if they trampled me in their haste to save themselves.

I’m faster this time. There are less horses on this side of the barn, and the more wood the flames devour as they grow in size, the quicker the horses take off on their own without much encouragement from me.

Reaching Chil’s stall, the last one, I breathe in relief when I realize he’s right next to the second set of barn doors flanking the left side of the building. After unlatching his stall, I yank it open and stumble towards the doors.

Pull.

Nothing.

Pull.

Nothing.

The chains are rattling, but the door won’t budge. It’s locked.

But we never lock it.

Panic creeps up my throat as I lean against the wall for support to move again. When I pass the open stall, my eyes barely register what they see. Chil is standing in the middle of his stall, but he’s not making any attempts to leave.

“Run!” My muffled scream loses itself in the smoke. I muster everything I have into repeatedly kicking the wood door.

His large grey frame barely recognizes the sound of my voice, his ears pulled backwards.

“Achilles, please!” I beg him, tears streaming down my face.

He lowers his head, one of his front legs starting to bend.

“No!” I shout, stepping into the stall. “You can’t lie down. We have to go!”

Large eyelids flutter open and closed, and there’s a wheeze in his chest as he continues to sink onto his front knees.

“Please!” I yell, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling upward.

Nothing.

He won’t move.

“I can’t leave you,” I sob, putting my entire body weight into lifting his. “Get up! Achilles, please! Get up!”

His back legs start to buckle, and my heart breaks when I have to let go of him. His body falls to the side, nothing but his chest rising and falling.

My legs finally give out, and I sink slowly into the sawdust, my bare knees not even slightly protesting at the ground. “Achilles,” I sob, crawling towards him.

The sawdust around his nose flutters, his shallow breaths barely audible in the chaos.

Flattening my palm across his neck, I pet him slowly. “I really need you to get up, buddy, okay?” I bargain with him. The wetness from my eyes stains his beautiful coat.

My other hand rubs down his forehead, his eyes closing from the touch.

“I love you, Chil.” I lean down, whispering into his ear. “I can’t go without you. Please.” I don’t even know who I’m begging now—if it’s him or God.

His breathing seems to be getting worse, and his body is so hot—too hot. After crawling towards the wall, I use it to help myself stand. After unlatching the water bucket hanging on the far side, I bite my lip as I use what strength is left in my body to carry it to him.

Kneeling down behind him, I rest the bucket on the floor. Then I scoop the water and pour it over his neck. “Does that feel good, buddy?” My voice is choppy, and my nose is running from crying heavily.

I keep pouring the water over his chest, on his neck, and down the length of his back. As I dip one hand in the water and rub the coolness over his muzzle, I lay my head down on his neck, my tears pouring freely into his mane.

“I can’t lose you.”

He lifts his head, and my heart pounds in anticipation. But just as quickly, he lets it fall back down to the floor. I don’t think my heart can take a break like this.

Sitting up, I pull on his neck with all of my might. “Get up, damnit!” I scream at his closed eyes. “I will never forgive you for this, Achilles! Please!”

The only indication that he’s heard me is the small twitch in his ears.

“Somebody help us!” My strangled pleas ricochet off the walls.

I’m not sure how much time has passed since I came downstairs, but the smoke is getting heavier and my lungs burn. Fire’s breathing down the doorstep of the stall, and I know I can’t leave now, even if I wanted to. The aisleway is completely engulfed in flames. I’d never make it, even if I could bring myself to leave him.

I curl up next to his body, one hand never ceasing the stroking over his neck and sweet face. “Just you and me, Chil. Forget the rest,” I say, repeating the last thing I said to him before we entered the ring in Greece, and hold him tight.

My eyes start to flutter, and I think of him, of Branson, my love. If I die today, I’ll die knowing what it feels like to love and be loved, and that makes all the difference. I was blessed.

“London!”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“London!”

Willing my eyes open, I cough until I’m certain my lungs will spill out of my mouth.

“Yes?” I croak, looking around wildly but coming up short.

“London!”

Daddy? “I’m here,” I try to yell, but it barely comes out a whisper. After scooping my hand into the last bit of the water, I swallow it, clearing my throat. “I’m here!”

“Are you okay? The doors are chained shut. We can’t get in.” His voice is strained.

Once again, the tears come easily. “I’m fine,” I call through the barn siding. “Daddy, Chil won’t get up. Something’s wrong with him.”

The sounds of multiple raised voices are muffled, but Daddy’s is clear. “We’re going to try to cut through the wall, honey. Is there something you can use to cover yourself up?”

Looking around, I struggle to focus my eyes, but eventually, they land on Achilles’ flea blanket.

“I’ve got a blanket!” I holler back to the wall as I tug it down.

“I need you to keep your back to the outside wall and put that over you, okay, sweet girl?”

I nod to myself before realizing he can’t see me. “Okay.”

After dragging the blanket, I pour what’s left in the water bucket over it. Then I drape it over my shoulders and spread my arms open like wings to cover as much of Achilles as I can.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

After pressing a soft kiss to Chil’s neck, I call out to Daddy, “I’m ready.”

Something loud rings out—a chainsaw?—and I force my eyes shut as the harsh sound ripples around me.

How long we wait like that, I have no idea. But, eventually, an engine revs before a loud breaking sound, which are followed by a huge rush of cool air. Too scared to move, I stay still, my head resting on Achilles’ body.

“London.” Daddy’s voice envelops me.

He tries to lift me into his arms, but I hold on to my best friend with everything I have. “I can’t.”

“It’s time to let him go, London,” he whispers.

“No, Chil, please!” I cry out as Owen pulls my arms off him. “Don’t leave him here!” I beg them. “I need him.”

The rain splashes onto my face. Then I see that the barn wall is now lying on the ground behind our tractor.

Looking back to where we came from, I watch the smoke swallow him.

Achilles.

MY TRUCK SCREECHES TO A halt behind the flashing lights of the first responder vehicles, the windshield wipers repeatedly blurring and clearing the scene before me like slow torture as the rain beats down on my car. Had you asked me in that moment how I’d driven there, I wouldn’t know. I was already halfway to Willow Bay when the emergency call came in. Something about having left her, despite her demands, hadn’t seemed right, and I’d wished with every fiber of my being that I could go back and stay with her.

Aurora had called, and even though it took me minutes before I could fully understand what she was saying in her panicked state, I knew it was bad. The main barn had caught fire on the South side and London was inside. They only knew that, because the horses were all over the property, and the only person who could have let them out in time was my girl.

I jump out of the truck, not even bothering to shut the door behind me as I scan the crowd. Where is she? The firemen who arrived just in front of me are now setting up their hoses and coordinating with the police on scene. But where is she?

My heart’s never been tethered to another person’s, not like with her. When she bleeds, I bleed. When she aches, I ache. When she’s scared, I can feel it. All the emotions are in my chest as if they are my own in some right.

The rain is only getting heavier, the thunder laying claim to heaven in the sky, and soon, my clothes are completely soaked.

Something loud cracks out into the air, but it’s not by nature’s choice. Picking up into a run, I maneuver my way through the trucks and people. Then a tractor engine revs. I can’t tell if I’m sweating now or if it’s just the rain, but the closer I get, the more I can feel her. Her pain is rippling through the night sky.

When I reach the left side of the barn, my brain can barely register what my eyes are seeing. There’s a huge section of barn wall missing just a few feet from the doors. My heart sinks into my gut when I see what’s wrapped around the handles of the doors. There’s a steel chain, but what makes it deadly is the gold-and-black lock holding it together. The emblem reads: Tucker Farms.

“Don’t leave him here!”

The beat of my heart stills at the sound of her voice, and I frantically search for a visual to confirm. When Larry steps through that hole in the wall with her in his arms, it’s enough to nearly kill me.

She’s wearing my red flannel shirt that she loves so much, but her legs are bare. Smoke has ashen her fair skin, streaks of tears bleeding clean paths down her cheeks as she sobs into her father’s chest.

“I need him.” Her eyes are red and panicked as she looks behind herself.

Following her gaze, I see the faintest image of a horse disappear into the smoke.

Achilles.

I needed to hold her, but that isn’t what she needs right now. She doesn’t need someone to save her. My girl knows how to save herself. So what she needs is someone to save him.

I grab the first fireman I see by the arm. “You listen to me,” I say, tone of my voice insinuating that I won’t have my time wasted. “I don’t care what your priority was before this second, but now, it’s to get that”—I point towards the open wall—“horse out of there. Now.”

“We could save a huge portion of the building,” he argues. “That horse is—”

Pulling him towards me, I lean down to his face. “That horse is everything. You do whatever it takes to save that horse. Fuck the barn. I’ll build a new one. Do you understand me?”

He looks over his shoulder, where another, older fireman has been watching our interaction. The man nods.

“Understood,” says the younger man.

“We make no promises on the state of the horse if we can get him out,” the older man—my guess is he’s the fire chief—warns me.

“Thank you.” My voice shakes as I release my hand.

The sound of her sobbing in the distance is like a shot to the heart, especially as each cry is broken up by violent coughs. When I turn to look at her, I’m halted in my tracks. She’s struggling against her father’s arms, and there’s only one thing she’s looking at—me.

Finally free, she takes off in a full sprint towards me, the rain soaking her beautiful hair and mixing with the tears pooling in her eyes.

My body moves before I command it to, knowing she shouldn’t be running, and wanting to close the distance between us as soon as possible. Grabbing her around the waist, I catch her in time as she launches herself at me.

We don’t need to speak—just holding each other is enough. She smells like smoke, which makes my stomach churn. We stand like that, still amidst the chaos, finding solace in each other.

Pulling back, I cup her face in my hands, wiping the stains from her cheeks. “I love you, London.” My mouth consumes hers, our hopes and fears entangling together as our lips do. The kiss reminds us both what we are so grateful to have found in one another.

Her body starts to sag and her fingers fist into my shirt, her mouth leaving mine as her legs give out. I take the burden of her weight, lifting her into my arms, brushing some of the hair off her face.

“Excuse me, sir. We need to take her to the hospital,” the female paramedic next to me says, touching my arm in a soothing way.

“I’m coming with her.” I look down at London, who’s now completely unconscious in my arms.

The paramedic looks between Larry and me nervously. “Are you family?”

My mouth opens and closes as I hold on to her limp body, not wanting to let her go. I know what they need me to say, but I can’t say it. She’s not my family—she’s my whole life.

A firm hand settles on my shoulder. “He’s family,” Larry tells the woman.

My body convulses as they take her from me, the loss too sudden. They lay her flat onto a gurney, my hand still in hers.

“Let’s go, son.”

We climb into the back of the ambulance, and I refuse to let go, even as they load her.

Each second we drive there takes years to pass. She’s still unconscious. They said that it was likely that, once the adrenaline diminished, her body succumbed to the amount of pain she’d been suffering during the fire.

“You will have to wait here,” the paramedic tells us as they stop outside the emergency doors inside the hospital. “The doctors will come get you.” She points to the waiting room next to us.

If Larry weren’t here to physically remove my hand from hers, I’d still be here, begging all the angels in Heaven to let me stay with her. We settle into two chairs, comfortable even in their discomfort, and wait.

After a few minutes, one of the nurses comes over with information for us to fill out. Her social insurance number, birth date, and a variety of other information. It doesn’t take long for her father to complete the information, and once again, we settle back into silence.

I wipe my face with the sleeves of my shirt, attempting to dry it. But it’s futile, as both Larry and I are soaked from head to toe. When I taste the salt on my lips, I realize I’ve been crying.

I’ve only cried one other time in my entire life, and that was when my first horse, Boomer, died, so I’m not familiar with the sensation.

“You love her.”

Looking up, I find Larry watching me intently. It was worded more as a statement and less as a question, but I still nod.

“I’m going to marry her someday,” I tell him.

As he fixes the ball cap over his head, the edges of his mouth curl into a smile. “I think I’ve known that for quite some time, son.”

Hours pass, and as they do, my nerves continue to wear thin. They came to tell us that she was going into surgery, but we were left with no more details than that.

Owen and Aurora come with changes of clothes and hot coffee. The other horses have all been wrangled up on the property and placed into outdoor paddocks for the time being. The firemen weren’t able to save much of the barn, although I hadn’t expected they would.

We don’t ask about Achilles, and they don’t tell. I suppose none of us are ready to talk about what that will look like for her.

I may not be a man of faith, but I pray in that waiting room. I pray for my girl, and I pray for her white knight, Achilles.

A doctor, who can’t be much older than I am, looks up from London’s clipboard in the waiting room. “Are you the family of London Daniels?”

“Yes,” we all manage to say more or less at the same time, standing in unison.

The man hesitates as if he’s not sure if he should say this to everyone, but he seems to let it go as he continues, “London is out of surgery. The stress from her actions during the fire caused the hairline fractures to her sacrum to widen exponentially. We had to place pins inside the bone to stabilize the injury. She suffered a great deal of pain, which is likely what attributed to her unconscious state. Her body finally gave out. We are monitoring her fever closely, but we suspect it will dissipate within a few hours, and we’re giving her something for the pain. When she’s awake, you are all welcome to see her, but until then, please make yourselves comfortable.”

“Sir,” Aurora asks. “Will she be able to ride again?”

He clips the pen on top of his clipboard and positions it at his side. “While we do expect London to make a full recovery, she won’t ever ride professionally again. Her body will not be able to sustain the prolonged stress that comes with that kind of rigorous training. I’m sorry, but her riding will only be for pleasure from now on.”

Heavy sadness lays in the air on top of us all, but there’s a guilt mixed into the cloud above my head.

How am I going to tell her this is all my fault?

“WE’RE GOING TO BRING YOUR family in to see you now. Are you up for that?” The sweet, older nurse adjusts my IV drip.

Smiling, I nod. “I am, thank you.”

My body is exhausted, my eyelids are heavy, but I feel very little pain, thanks to the morphine drip I’ve been given.

The doctor just spent the last twenty minutes briefing me on my surgery and the damage to my body. The recovery process will be mostly uncomfortable, as I’ll have to wear a brace for most movement while the pins settle, but otherwise, I will be healthy.

“You will never ride professionally again. I’m sorry, London.”

I remember his words as the nurse leaves the room, and once again, I wait for a crippling sadness that never comes. Not that I wished for the devastation, but I expected it to be there.

“Bridge.”

Drawing my eyes to the door, I see my daddy’s worn face. “Hi, Daddy.”

He enters the room slowly, followed by my siblings. Last is the other half of me. After circling the foot of my bed, he folds his massive frame over the bed, resting his forehead on mine.

“I missed you.” His tears fall onto my cheeks.

I rest my palm—the one without the IV—on the side of his handsome face. “I missed you too, cowboy.”

The weight on his shoulders seems terribly heavy as he runs his thumb over my lower lip. “I love you, London.” His lips brush mine in a sweet kiss in front of my family before he settles down into one of the chairs next to my bed.

Blowing him a kiss, I try to ease the tension in the room. “You better, because I love you.”

Daddy takes the seat on the other side of my bed. His face seems so strained, and it’s obvious they know.

“I’m so sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay.” I lace my fingers through his.

When he looks at my hands, the softness in his heart bleeds through the rough exterior most people only ever get to know. “You just love it so much.”

“I love to ride.” Tears beg to be let free as I squeeze Daddy’s hand. “But it’s always been about more than competing for me. It’s about feeling.” I smile at him. “It’s about feeling like she’s with me. Momma always told us riding isn’t about just being in the saddle. It’s about everything that gets you there. That’s what I love. That’s what reminds me of her. Not a medal or a ribbon, but the feel of a horse’s coat under my hands or the sound of their hooves on the ground. I have passion for the sport, and it will break a part of me to lose that, but the passion I can’t live without is the horses themselves.”

A tear slides down my Daddy’s rough cheek.

“I didn’t lose that. Now, my heart just has a little extra room to love them is all.”

“She’d be so proud of you,” he whispers.

“Remember, Daddy. Our hearts have to break a little sometimes. How else would we make room for all that love?”

Standing up, he brushes the hair off my face. “Of all the angels on Earth, my sweet girl, you have to be the strongest.” After kissing my forehead, he excuses himself from the room.

“You could teach!” Aurora brightens. “I mean, not like I do for volunteering. I mean like really teach. You could train people.”

“I could.” I smile at her.

Owen’s hand squeezes my ankle through the blankets at the foot of my bed. “You can still ride, Bridge. It’s just gonna look a little different from now on is all.”

“I love you guys,” I tell them. “Would you give me just a few minutes alone with Branson?”

They take turns giving me delicate hugs and kisses on my cheek before shutting the door behind them.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, running one of my hands through Branson’s hair.

“I’m just . . .” His voice trails off. “I’m scared to tell you.”

“To tell me what?” My hand moves down the side of his face before falling back down to the bed.

His face is a war of emotions. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen play on his features. “That this”—he chokes on the lump in his throat as he looks over me—“is all because of me.”

My body reacts before I have time to stop it, and in sitting up so quickly, my injury protests. I wince against the pain, and he frowns. When he opens his mouth to speak, I shake my head.

“This is not your fault.”

“It is.” His head hangs. “You don’t understand.”

My heart rate picks up. His tone makes me anxious, as I have no idea how he thinks an accident like this could be his fault.

“Make me understand, Branson.”

He begins to pace at the foot of my bed. It’s a nervous habit of his I’ve noticed during our time together. I don’t push him. He’ll speak when he’s ready, and not a moment sooner.

“It wasn’t a coincidence”—he exhales—“that I came to Willow Bay.” Turning his back to me, he rests a hand against the hospital wall and his body begins to shake. “I saw you everywhere. I tried to write it off as infatuation and let it go, but you plagued me. You were on my TV screen, in my paper, and then I read that article . . .”

I wince. The article still haunts me, but I’m learning to let it go.

“I wanted to kill that pompous idiot for the things he said about you. Even a simple mind could see your passion wasn’t weakness.”

My mind ping-pongs, and I stumble in an effort to say something during his pause. “So, you knew of me before you came to Willow Bay? That’s not terribly odd, Branson. Millions of people I’ve never met know of me for the very same reason, and that hardly justifies you being responsible for an accident.”

“I came to Willow Bay, because of you.”

What?

“I came to Willow Bay for you.”

My palms start to sweat. My hands start to shake, my heart praying. “What about the fire? Your barn?”

“I needed a reason to be near you. I wanted to see if what I felt for you could possibly be real, and, if it was, if you would feel the same way about me in return.” He spins to face me, gripping the bar on the edge of my bed until his knuckles turn white. “I staged it—the fire.”

The blood inside me boils at the thought that he could be responsible for something as horrible as what I’d just gone through, but I’m reminded of the person he is, and instead of acting irrationally, I wait. I wait for him to give me one goddamn good reason why I shouldn’t kick him out of my hospital room. Even though the thought of losing him kills me.

“A colleague of mine who I’d worked with for years and trusted immensely was supposed to simply find an old photo of a barn fire similar to my property and have it leaked to the local press, only enough so that your father would take my request. It was fraudulent, but it shouldn’t have been harmful to anyone. The staff would be paid regardless, and no one would be the wiser.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Francis disobeyed a direct order, deeming the lie too unbelievable, and set fire to the entire barn. I was lucky he thought it wise enough to do so when the horses where all turned out to their paddocks for the day, but the knowledge that he’d caused so much destruction on a whim both terrified and angered me.

“I fired him on the spot. I should have turned him in to the authorities, but he knew the part I’d played in the event itself and threatened to embellish that. Instead of taking chances, I paid him a year’s severance to leave and never come back. It didn’t work. He kept causing trouble.”

“The break-in,” I whisper. “The first day we kissed.”

He nods, shame weighing heavily on him. “That was Francis. It was after that I knew I’d made a mistake. I came clean to the police after our first night together, but they weren’t able to do much. He said I ruined him, and thus, he would ruin me. The threats weren’t taken seriously enough, as I had no way to prove any of it at this point.” When he lifts his head, tears and guilt wash down his face. “I never thought he’d come after my horses at Willow Bay. He hadn’t popped up in weeks on any of the authorities’ radars, so we assumed he’d just let it go. I’m so sorry. You should hate me.”

My brain’s a little sluggish from the painkillers, but even so, I don’t hate him. I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that he knew about me and sought me out on purpose. Is it weird and extreme? Sure. But that doesn’t negate the fact that I still fell in love with him by my own free will. He didn’t force me, and he isn’t, despite what he may think, a bad person.

“Branson, come here,” I whisper, tapping the empty space beside me.

His hesitation hurts my heart, but eventually, he comes.

“Look at me,” I lift his chin with my hand and trace the stubble along the lines of his jaw. “We are not the mistakes we make, nor the things we fear, and most certainly not the things we bleed for.” I lose a single tear, as does he. “Fate, and a little help from you,”—I wink—“brought us together, and Momma said, ‘When fate brings you your person, its job is done and it’s on you to keep them.’ So you can try runnin,’ or whatever other absurdities are in that handsome head of yours, or you can save us both a lot of trouble and heartache by just stayin’ put.”

His words drip with uncertainty. “How can you forgive me for this?”

“Do I wish you’d told me about everything before now? Yes. Not because it means I would have handled anything differently, but because we are always stronger together than we are apart, Branson. Regardless, we will handle it from here on out as a team. Whatever that looks like, I’m with you.” I pull him towards me by the back of his neck. “I forgive you. Do you understand me?”

He nods.

“That forgiveness has nothing to do with being earned. It’s on me to give, and that’s my choice. You don’t need to be my hero. I don’t need one. You’re more than that. You’re it for me, Tucker. Don’t you get that? You’re my second chance. It doesn’t matter if I can’t compete again for the rest of my life because you’re the only gold medal I want.”

When he crashes his lips against mine, his suffering and his joy melt into me as the passion of our kiss heals the wounds we’ve earned.

“You’re it for me too, London.” He pulls away, resting his forehead on mine. “Even when you’re cheesy.”

“You did not just call me cheesy!” I exclaim, slapping his arm.

Running his thumb over my bottom lip, he grins. “I like it.”

“You better.”

“I’ve got to go make some calls. I’ll send your family back in, okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper.

After standing up, he kisses me softly on the lips. “Whatever I did to deserve you, I don’t know and I don’t care. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

As he moves towards the door, a smile spreads on my face.

“Hey, cowboy?”

“Yeah, angel?” He pauses at the doorway.

“You’re gonna owe my daddy a barn.”

The sound of his laughter fills both the room and my heart. “You got it, babe.”

You don’t know when the love you’ve been waiting for will come your way, but when it does, you’d be wise to remember that you aren’t perfect, and neither are they. Forgive, do your best, and when things need a little more fixin’ than that, you’d best change rein.