Chapter 49 Choices
Choices
Quinn
Ipound on the door again, a mixture of nerves and agitation winding through me. Between Denver and everything that went down with Wes, I knew he was upset—but he’s never shut me out before. And this conversation is long overdue.
My phone buzzes, and my heart leaps into my throat when I see Tripp’s face light up my screen.
"Hey," I say, my voice tight.
"Honey, open your window. Please?"
I blink. "What?"
"I've been tapping on your bedroom window for the last five minutes. I needed to talk to you."
Of course he climbed a damn tree to my second-story window instead of just calling. That was so utterly Tripp.
I press a hand to my forehead, torn between exasperation and something dangerously close to laughter.
"Tripp, I can't."
"Come on, Quinnie. Please? We've always been able to talk."
"No, I mean I can't because I'm not there."
There’s a pause. I can practically hear his confusion crackle through the line.
"What? Where are you?"
"At your house. I came to talk to you."
A sharp curse slips through the speaker. "Don't move. I'm on my way."
The line goes dead before I can say another word, and I plop down on the porch step to wait. I wouldn't let Tripp push me away over some self-sacrificing bullshit. After all the weeks of denial, I know exactly what we have, and I’m not about to give it up for anything. He's mine now.
The sound of his truck tires rolling up the drive has me rising from the porch ten minutes later. The late spring air is perfect for sitting under the stars.
Tripp strolls toward me, a couple of blankets slung over his arm. It’s dark out, but I think I can make out a look of chagrin on his face. Or maybe I’m just imagining it.
“You didn’t have to wait outside for me,” he says. "The door's unlocked."
"It's a nice night," I say with a shrug.
He tilts his head toward the porch. "You wanna sit?"
I nod and watch him spread one of the blankets on the wooden planks. I sit down, my legs hanging off the edge of the porch.
“You know, one of these days you’re going to fall and break your leg trying to climb through my window.”
He chuckles, low and deep. The rumble of it makes my body come alive as he steps in between my legs and wraps the second blanket around me.
The contact is like a gasp of fresh air after being underwater too long. It’s life-giving, but it’s too brief because once the blanket settles on my shoulders, his hands are gone, and his warmth recedes.
His thigh presses against mine when he sits next to me, and I can finally breathe again—at least for a moment.
The silence stretches, heavy as the night air, and my pulse races with the weight of what I’m about to say. Still, this is Tripp. I’ve always been able to be honest with him.
His body is tense next to me. I take a breath to speak and he blurts, “I’m sorry I hit your brother.”
I snort. “He hit you first. Don't worry. That's not what I came here to talk to you about.”
His jaw clenches. “You were never just a notch on my bedpost, Quinnie. I never once saw you that way.”
“I know that,” I say. “You were wrong, by the way.”
He grunts. “I’m wrong about lots of things. But what am I wrong about this time?”
“You told me there was nothing here for me." My eyes meet his, and my voice cracks when I tell him, "You’re here."
He shakes his head. "Quinnie—"
I hold up my hand to silence him. "No. It's my turn to talk."
He mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key.
I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders. "You have always shown up for me, always been there when I needed you. It's my turn to do right by you, Tripp. I can't go to Denver when you're here. I thought I needed to be logical about us, but I can't do it."
I hold his gaze, those dark eyes wide and expectant. "There's no rhyme or reason to the way I love you. You check every damn box on the list of things I didn’t even know I was looking for.”
He ducks his head. “I lied to you,” he admits.
I stiffen next to him, steeling myself. “About what?”
“This was never casual for me. It always meant something. It’s why I barely hesitated breaking five years of celibacy for you.” His lips twitch with a rueful smile. “You've always been it, Quinnie. It feels like I’ve loved you forever, and just didn’t know it.”
Tears fill my eyes as he takes my hand, fingers threading through mine. He’s held my hand a million times over the years, but I never realized how right it always felt. His eyes find mine once more.
“I’d never hold you back,” he says. “I love your drive, your ambition, your skill. Watching you do your job—it’s hot as hell.
I’d never want you to give up any part of that.
I’m so damn proud of you. So, if Denver’s your next step, I’ll follow you there.
I’d follow you anywhere. You deserve to keep chasing every dream you have. I’d never stand in your way.”
His words are everything because he means them. I let them settle around me like a cozy blanket, comforting and warm and secure.
I picture us in Denver; me working crazy hours in the city; him finding a job as a ranch hand or trainer there. But the vision is dim, murky. Tripp’s whole life has been in Cottonwood Creek. His family is here. And my family’s here too.
I squeeze his hand. “I already turned down the Denver job, Tripp."
His gaze snaps to mine, and my lips curl into a smile. "Dr. Dillard offered me a job at the clinic here, and the opportunity to take the whole thing over when he retires next year.”
"You can't just give up Denver."
I shake my head at him. "I don't feel like I'm giving anything up by staying here. It only feels like I'm gaining things—friends, family. I'll have my own clinic and the challenge of doing a little bit of everything here. My specialty will be a huge benefit to the community."
Once I allowed myself to want something different, this was the easiest decision in the world. I'd emailed Dr. Kroychek to turn her down the second I got to Tripp’s house.
Pops was right. It was okay to change course, to shift my priorities. I have new things to care about, and it’s only made my life feel more balanced. Richer. Fuller.
There’s a beat of silence, and then the tension goes out of him in a whoosh.
“Really?” he asks, voice shaking. “Are you sure?” His hand tightens on mine, like he’s afraid I’ll take it back.
I nod. "I'm sure. I choose Cottonwood Creek. I choose you. Us.” I reach up to comb my fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. “I’ve never been happier and felt more like who I’m meant to be than when I’m with you. I’d be stupid to want to be anywhere else.”
He leans forward, his forehead resting on mine. “Christ, honey, I love you.”
I let loose a breath. Everything in my body finally relaxes, settling into a bone-deep contentment. “I love you too.”
His mouth is on mine the second the words are past my lips, and I melt into him, deepening the kiss, leaning into his steadiness.
“I’ve been waiting what feels like forever to hear you say that," he whispers.
He yanks at an overgrown piece of prairie grass by the porch and weaves it with nimble fingers. I’m about to ask what he’s doing when he knots it into a small circle and slides it over the fourth finger on my left hand.
“Some people might say I’m rushing things, but this has been decades in the making. I don’t have a ring that’s shiny yet, but I swear I‘ll get one because I want forever with you. It’s always been you, Quinnie. You’re my dream girl. I want you in my house, your pig in my yard.”
I laugh through my tears because only Tripp would think to include Winston in a proposal.
“I want to see your belly swell with my babies. I want all of it with you—kinky bucket lists and all. You’re fucking everything to me."
He’s not down on one knee. There’s no diamond. And we haven’t even officially dated. But I don't care. This moment is perfect.
Tears slide down my cheeks, and I straddle his lap and cling to him because I can’t stand not being as close to him as possible. “I want all of it with you too.”
“I promise to get you something shinier.”
I chuckle lightly, shaking my head. “We’re gonna have to build Winston another pen.”
He murmurs his agreement. “And maybe we can find him a friend to keep him company.”
This man really does know the way to my heart.
“Forever?” He lifts his pinky and wiggles it at me.
“Forever,” I promise, wrapping my little finger around his.
I kiss him then, under the starry sky in Cottonwood Creek, the same place it all started—where we were always meant to land.