40. Willy
CHAPTER FORTY
Willy
Red steers through the gates at Dusty Spur and parks beside the house, but nobody climbs out right away because Arizona’s still wedged between Emmett and me beneath the quilt we grabbed from the first aid tent.
The porch light dances across the truck, and after everything Travis put her through, seeing her breathing beside us eases a knot that’s been riding my shoulders for hours.
She catches me watching her and smiles. “I’m still here.”
“I know.”
“You’ve checked on me the whole drive.”
“Forty-three times,” Emmett says, grinning.
“I quit counting after that,” I tell her. “I was making myself crazy.”
She laughs, pushes the quilt onto the seat, and reaches for the door handle. “I can manage.”
Red is already around the truck by the time she steps onto the gravel. His gaze sweeps over the scrape on her forehead before he offers his hand to help her clear the running board. “You warm enough?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been saying that since the ambulance.”
“Because everybody keeps asking.”
His mouth softens into a tired smile as he nods toward the porch. “Let’s get inside.”
The passenger door flies open before any of us reaches the steps.
Sadie climbs out clutching her stuffed horse, stretches after the long drive, then reaches for Arizona’s hand as soon as both boots hit the gravel.
“We’re home,” she announces with a grin.
Arizona laughs and lets Sadie lace their fingers together. “Looks like we are.”
Sadie glances up, her smile fading when she notices the scrape on Arizona’s forehead. She rises onto her toes, studying it with a worried little frown. “The bad man did that.”
“He did.”
“He’s gone now?”
“He won’t be hurting anybody again.”
Sadie’s shoulders loosen. She gives one firm nod, squeezes Arizona’s hand, then starts tugging her toward the porch. “You still have to tuck me in.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
We trail behind them, shucking boots by the door and hanging hats on the hooks while Sadie fills the hallway with stories about everything she planned to show Arizona tomorrow.
Halfway to her bedroom, a yawn sneaks up on her so wide she nearly drops the stuffed horse.
Red grips the back of a kitchen chair and stares toward the hallway where Arizona disappeared with Sadie. “I should’ve stopped Arizona getting hurt.”
“You couldn’t have stopped her,” Emmett says, holding his gaze. “Once she’d decided Travis was using her to get to us, she would’ve climbed every fence on this ranch if she thought it would keep us safe.”
Red exhales through his nose and drags a hand across his beard. “I came close to losing her.”
“We all did.”
Nobody says another word because there’s nothing left to add. Arizona has always charged toward trouble when she thought it would spare somebody else, and every one of us knew it long before tonight.
Her voice drifts down the hallway as she sings Sadie to sleep, and the familiar tune settles over the house until I find myself smiling without meaning to.
This place always felt like home. Now it sounds like it, too.
A few minutes later Arizona walks back into the kitchen and drops into the chair beside me. “She’s out.”
Emmett smiles. “She fought sleep harder than Travis fought the sheriff.”
Arizona chuckles. “She almost won.”
Red opens the cabinet, grabs a bottle of whiskey, and pours four glasses before sliding one across to her. She wraps both hands around it, warming her fingers against the glass while her eyes move from one of us to the next.
“I’ve been trying to say this since the arena.” She sucks in a sharp breath. “When Travis had me cornered, I kept wondering if I’d already used up all the chances I was ever going to get.” She glances toward the hallway. “I wasn’t thinking about another show or another town. I wanted to come home.”
Her eyes drift toward Sadie’s bedroom.
“I kept picturing that little girl waiting for us.”
Emmett lowers his head with a faint smile.
“I wanted one more morning sitting in this kitchen with terrible coffee while Willy tortured another country song.”
I grin. “Tortured’s a strong word.”
“It’s accurate.”
“I prefer ‘creatively interpreted.’”
She laughs, and hearing it eases the tightness that’s been riding my chest since the rodeo. Then she turns to Red. “I even missed you fussing over me.”
“I don’t fuss.”
The look Arizona gives him says she doesn’t believe a word of it. “You absolutely do.”
He shakes his head, but the corner of his mouth gives him away. “I worry.”
“I know.” She draws a breath before looking at all three of us. “I spent a long time believing it was easier to keep moving than stay anywhere long enough to belong.” Her fingers tighten around the whiskey glass. “I don’t believe that anymore.”
She looks toward the hallway.
“I love this ranch.” A smile touches her face. “I love that little girl asleep down the hall.” Then her eyes meet mine before moving to Emmett and finally Red. “And I love the three of you.”
Silence crashes over the table.
Red blinks like she spoke another language. Emmett’s mouth actually falls open.
I just stare at her because Arizona McCay doesn’t say things like that. She doesn’t stay. She doesn’t put down roots. She sure as hell doesn’t hand people pieces of her heart without making a joke or finding the nearest exit.
Arizona shifts in her chair under the weight of our silence and lets out a nervous laugh. “You don’t have to say anything.”
She barely gets to her feet before I catch her hand. “You really think we’d let you walk away after that?”
Her fingers tighten around mine as she searches my face.
“I fell in love with you because every day with you felt easy.” I smile. “I kept telling myself you’d leave sooner or later, so I’d take whatever time I could get.”
I bring her hand to my lips. “I don’t want borrowed time anymore.” Her breath catches. “I love you, Arizona.”
A smile spreads across her face. “I love you too.”
She slips a hand behind my neck and kisses me, soft at first, then deeper, until the fear that’s been chewing at me all night finally lets go.
When we ease apart, Emmett steps in and takes her other hand.
“I convinced myself you were passing through because that hurt less than believing you’d stay.” His thumb brushes over her knuckles. “Then this place stopped feeling like home unless you were in it.”
Her eyes glisten. “I’m here.”
“I know.” He smiles. “And I love you.”
She cups his jaw and kisses him with the same certainty she just gave to me, leaving him smiling against her forehead before he finally lets her go.
Red waits until she turns toward him. “I’ve spent too many years saying everything except what mattered.”
A teasing smile tugs at her lips. “You’ve still got time.”
He steps close enough that only inches separate them. “I love you.”
She laughs through the tears threatening her eyes. “I’ve been waiting to hear that.”
His hand settles against her cheek. “You won’t be waiting again.”
She melts into him, wrapping her arms around his waist while he holds her close enough to make it clear he has no intention of letting go.
When she finally steps back, she looks between the three of us and shakes her head with a smile. “I’ve cried enough tonight.”
“You’ve earned a better ending than that,” I tell her.
Her eyes brighten with the kind of mischief that always gets one of us into trouble. “I was thinking the same thing.”
She steps into the space between us until we’re close enough to feel each other’s warmth, then hooks a finger through my belt loop while reaching for Emmett’s hand.
Red slides in behind her, his palm settling at her waist as she tilts her head back to look at all three of us.
“I think,” she murmurs, “we’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”
Red’s eyes darken. “Upstairs.”
None of us argues.