Chapter 17
Ollie
Sleeping On The Blacktop by Colter Wall
Music thumps through the heated tents, bass humming. Laughter and singing spill into the cold night air, glasses clinking as people crowd together, dancing shoulder to shoulder like this is exactly where we’re all supposed to be.
I scan the space out of habit, and my chest loosens when I spot Owen.
The guys from the station have him completely surrounded.
Bucky’s pretending to lose at some dumb game just to make him laugh.
Someone else spins him around until he’s breathless, his laugh cutting through the noise, loud and wild and unguarded.
Another lifts him onto his shoulders so he can see everything, like he belongs right at the center of it all.
Owen’s having the time of his life.
They watch him without hovering. Always within reach. Always circling back. Like it’s instinct now. Like protecting him is just part of the job.
I feel it settle deep in my chest. That familiar swell of gratitude I never quite know what to do with.
This is my family. The one I chose. The one that showed up and stayed. And somehow, without ever asking, they wrapped their arms around Owen too.
I glance back toward Poppy, watching her watch him, and I see it on her face. That soft ache. That realization.
I gave her my life without thinking twice. But tonight, standing here with music pounding and my people keeping her kid safe and happy, it hits me that I didn’t just bring her into my world.
I brought her home.
Walker and Violet did something for us I’ll never forget.
Pulling this off as quickly as they did was a miracle.
Me and Poppy’s moment before the reception was everything to me.
It’s what I needed. I always said that when we got older, I’d marry my best friend someday.
We’re older, and she’s right here now. And she’s my wife.
How we got here doesn’t matter. We got here.
I watched my parents fight and have a horrible marriage.
But I also watched my grandpa and grandma Wilder have an awesome marriage.
And they were best friends. They loved being together, doing life together, and they made everything fun.
That’s the kind of life I want to have with Poppy.
I want to do everything with her and have the best life possible for Owen.
That’s why I wanted her to have my grandma’s ring.
Cami agreed, saying Jack had already wanted to buy her a ring, and she wanted a bigger diamond.
Poppy has always loved older things, so this is perfect.
Getting married on their anniversary is something special that just so happened to work out.
I want to think it was a part of them watching over us from up above and making things happen.
If she doesn’t want kids or whatever picket fence bullshit she thinks about, I’m good with that. Not sure how great a father I’d be anyway. I like kids, and I especially love Owen, but I just want her. Poppy is my endgame in life and always has been.
I keep catching myself looking across the room to make sure Poppy’s still there.
She’s laughing with Maggie and glowing in a way that makes my chest ache when I think about us and our life together now.
I still can’t believe she told me she wanted it to be real. I practically cried like a little baby with relief when she admitted that to me.
Someone bumps my shoulder, and I turn to see Cami grinning at me. “Dance with me,” she says.
I blink and tease her as a brother should. “Like… actually dance? Do you know how?”
She nods. “Like a sister-brother dance. Because our mom is lame and she bailed.”
I glance around instinctively. “What happened with her? I saw you two talking.”
Cami shrugs. “I don’t want to ruin your night.”
I snort. “Cami.”
She sighs. “Basically, if something isn’t about her, you know she’s gonna ruin it for everyone.”
I nod in agreement. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“We didn’t exactly luck out in the mom department,” she says lightly, like she’s talking about bad weather instead of something that still hurts.
I don’t argue. There’s no point pretending otherwise. “Pretty much the parent department.”
She grabs my hand and drags me onto the dance floor. The song shifts into something upbeat and ridiculous, and we immediately start dancing like idiots, laughing, and being silly.
Not smooth. Not cool. Just flailing arms, exaggerated spins, and Cami pretending to dip me so hard I almost lose my balance.
People around us laugh and cheer. I catch Maggie wiping at her eyes, crying, laughing at us being silly. Jack’s watching us with that look he gets when he pretends he’s not soft.
“We’re terrible,” I say, laughing.
“That’s the whole point,” Cami says.
I smile big and real. Because this night isn’t about what we didn’t get growing up. It’s about what we built anyway, without our shitbag parents here to ruin our day.
Cami bumps into my chest and then looks up at me, suddenly serious.
“You know I would take a bullet for you, Ollie,” she says.
I laugh. “Cami, you’d be the reason we were getting shot at in the first place.”
She bursts out laughing and throws her arms around my neck, hugging me tight. “Rude. But honestly, probably fair.”
“I love you, Cami,” I say, meaning every word.
“Love you too, Ol,” she says back.
We stay like that for a second longer than necessary, swaying in the middle of the dance floor while everything else keeps moving around us.
I think about how many years it’s been just us against the world. We learned early that family isn’t always the people who give birth to you. Sometimes it’s the people who choose you and show up for you when they have nothing to gain from it.
When the song ends, Cami kisses my cheek and playfully shoves me. “Go,” she says softly. “Your wife’s looking for you.”
Wife. The word hits me right in the chest.
I turn and see Poppy standing near the edge of the floor, her second dress flowing around her legs, eyes locked on me like she’s checking to make sure I’m still hers, too.
I cross the room without thinking. She smiles when she sees me, that soft, knowing smile that still feels unreal. I slide my hand into hers, and she squeezes like she’s grounding both of us at once.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say honestly. “I’m more than okay now that I have you.”
She leans into me, head against my chest, and for the first time all night, I stop scanning the room. Stop waiting for something to go wrong.
This is it. We may not have started like a traditional couple. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that life doesn’t always go like that. It’s messy, and sometimes we do things out of order.
The music swells again. Someone shouts. Someone laughs. The town keeps celebrating around us.
And right here, holding Poppy while my sister watches my back from across the floor, I know something deep and steady.
We didn’t get everything we deserved growing up, but now we have everything that we need.
And tonight, that feels like more than enough.
Walker’s driveway is still buzzing when we finally make our escape. Everyone’s waving glowsticks in the air like we’re leaving a concert instead of our own wedding reception. Laughter fills the air and I give Walker a big hug, “Thank you for everything.”
“Absolutely our pleasure,” he says as he looks at me proudly. “Happy for you both.”
Owen stands at the front of the crowd with Maggie, a glowstick looped around his neck like a medal. He’s grinning so hard his cheeks look sore.
“I get a sleepover at the Dogwood Inn,” he announces proudly. “Maggie promised chocolate chip pancakes at Harvest and Honey in the morning.”
“Extra chocolate chips,” Maggie adds, wagging a finger at him.
I laugh. “Of course she did.”
I pull him in for a hug after Poppy hugs him. “Love you, Owen.”
The crowd starts cheering as Poppy and I head toward my truck. Cami whoops. Jack whistles. Violet throws her arms around Walker’s waist, glow stick waving.
“Go,” someone yells. “Get outta here and have smoochy smoochy time!”
I laugh as I open the door for Poppy, and she slides in, laughing and waving back at everyone. I climb in and start the engine. The cheers get louder.
“That was absolutely amazing.” Poppy sighs, leaning back against her headrest.
I reach for Poppy’s hand as we head back toward town, fingers lacing together like this is exactly where they’re meant to be. “It was incredible.”
We’re almost home. Home. The place we’re starting our lives together. For real now. How we got here doesn’t matter.
We pull into one of the bays and park, closing the door and locking up. She turns to me before we head upstairs, looking nervous, wearing my suit jacket over her dress.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi,” I answer, and it feels like the most important word I’ve ever said.
I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder in a fireman carry and run up the stairs, kicking it shut behind me and locking it after I set her down, her breath heaving from laughing.
“Ollie!” she squeals.
“What? I’m excited to get my wife home. Sue me.”
She grins, leans in, and kisses me softly. “Okay, husband. No suing needed. I’ll allow it.”
I take her coat off slowly, like there’s no rush now, like I want to remember every second of this.
My hands linger at her shoulders, my thumbs brushing her collarbone, and she lets out a breath that sounds like relief.
Like she’s finally letting herself have this.
Whatever invisible battles she’s been fighting.
We kiss again, softer this time. Deeper. Not the kind of kiss meant to convince anyone. This one is just for us. I feel her melt into me, feel her fingers curl into my shirt like she’s afraid I might disappear if she lets go.
“We’re real,” I murmur against her mouth.
“I know,” she whispers. “I just… I need a second. I’m nervous.”
I rest my forehead against hers. “Take all the seconds you need.”
When she finally nods, it’s like a door opening. She presses her palm to my chest, right over my heart, and the look she gives me wrecks me. Open. Certain. Brave.
We move together without talking, shedding layers, finding each other by instinct.
Every touch is careful and reverent, like we’re learning each other all over again.
I kiss her jaw, her neck, the place beneath her ear that makes her shiver.
She laughs softly when I murmur her name, like she can’t believe this is real either.
When I lay her down, I take my time. I want her to feel chosen, cherished, safe. I want her to know I’m not going anywhere.
She reaches for me, pulling me closer, and when I finally sink into her warmth, the world narrows to the sound of our breathing and the way she fits against me, as if she always belonged there. We move slowly at first, finding a rhythm that feels like trust. Like home.
She wraps her legs around me, forehead pressed to mine, whispering my name like a prayer. I kiss her through it—through the way she opens and gives and finally lets herself have this. The intensity builds quietly and deeply, not rushed, not frantic. Just inevitable.
When she comes undone in my arms, it feels like fireworks under my skin. Like everything I’ve ever held back, finally has somewhere to go. I follow her, holding her close, grounding us both through it, through the way we fall apart together and come back whole.
After, I don’t move. I keep her tucked against me, her head on my chest, my hand tracing slow circles along her back. She’s warm and genuine and mine in a way that feels sacred.
“I didn’t think it would feel like this,” she says quietly.
I kiss the top of her head. “Me neither.”
But I think I did. I think I always knew it would with Poppy.
I hold her a little tighter and close my eyes, already certain of one thing.
This isn’t the end of something. It’s the beginning.