Epilogue
Wyatt
Two Years Later
Me
Please tell me you have it. I can’t find it.
Lachlan
How the fuck did you lose it?
Rhett
He’s been kinda busy—you know, announcing the NFR and all.
Kyla
Which we are proud of you, Wy…but…you seriously lost it!?
Lachlan
He had this planned. You’d think he have it on him!
Me
I didn’t want to lose it. I thought I was putting it somewhere safe.
Lachlan
I don’t even know what to say to that.
Cash
My bet is it’s in Hook’s saddlebag.
Me
Nah, she would have seen me slip it in there and then got suspicious.
Grace
We’re looking.
Abi
Are you sure you don’t have it?
Me
Yes. I can’t find it anywhere. It’s almost her event…I kinda need that for this to work.
Rhett
Lachlan found it! It was in Beckett’s diaper bag…he’s on the way!
Seeing my cousin race up to me calmed every nerve in my body, but when he tossed that small black box at me—and I caught it—a whole new set of nerves took shape.
“Don’t”—Lachlan pointed at me—“lose it.”
I waved it in the air and spun on my heel. I had exactly ten minutes to get back to the box, grab the microphone, and then race to the complete opposite end of the arena.
It was round one of the National Finals Rodeo…
and not only was Quinn the first barrel racer on the sheet, but I was finally announcing.
I had already planned on popping the question this year, but when I found out we’d both be in the arena at the same time, a Wyatt Hartwell Stupid Plan was set in motion.
And I was grateful enough to have a lot of people in my corner in order to pull this off.
The past two years had been absolute chaos, blending perfectly with pure bliss.
Almost every weekend, Quinn and I were on the road, bouncing from rodeo to rodeo.
Rusty joined us on the adventures, adding the third horse to the mix with Hook still pining for as much attention as he could get.
Sometimes we were in different cities the same night, but most of the time we were at the same event—me behind the mic and her earning as much as she could to get back to the NFR.
She won her first year, setting a new record that no one has been able to break, but last year she didn’t—meaning this year she was even more determined to reclaim her title.
But after the busy weekends, we always wound up back at home.
I officially moved into her place—well, our place after we bought it together—and when we weren’t planning our trips, we were working on the sanctuary.
She kept the name Once Upon a Rescue despite my telling her it was just a placeholder for her real name, but she would smile and say it reminded her of us.
Speaking of which—we finished Once Upon a Time, but moved on to The Office, Schitt’s Creek, Outlander, Doctor Who, and she finally got me to watch The Princess Bride.
Once Upon a Time was still our go-to, though—we rewatched it at least once already.
Checking my watch, I opened the door to the box and grabbed the mic that was waiting for me off the table.
T-minus five minutes. I passed Hawkins and Sam, both of them shouting a ‘go get her’ at the top of their lungs, and was stopped by Lance and Helen Compton on my way to the other side for a good luck hug.
Helen promised me she’d be waiting for us, making sure to tell me exactly where we could find her after.
Quinn’s relationship with her parents—yes, parents, after her father came to the realization that he held a part of the blame—had gotten better over the past few years, but there was still a lot of work to do.
They met with a family therapist, and slowly the trust started to form.
I sat with Quinn and held her hand, supporting her the only way I knew how.
There were good days, and then something would be said, and both parties would get upset.
I’d simply remind Quinn that it was baby steps—and I was amazed at her progress with her mother.
The fights, when they happened, never lasted long.
I opened the gate, weaving through the crowd, and I caught the pickup men placing the last barrel. The large screen overhead showed a slow-motion video of Quinn rounding a barrel with fancy wording over it, getting the crowd excited for her event.
Which I was announcing for.
I flipped the mic on and brought it to my lips.
“And now we have the top ten cowgirls in the arena with us tonight to show us their skills and tell those barrels who’s boss.” I lowered the mic and exhaled through my lips, waiting for my partner to reply.
The plan was simple. I’d announce from here, he’d announce from the box, acting like we were right next to each other the entire time.
I just didn’t account for A) being completely out of breath, and B) any noise the mic would pick up that was around me.
I brushed those thoughts aside. I knew Quinn—she wasn’t going to pay attention to what I was saying anyway.
After my partner finished his bit, I lifted the mic back up.
“And we’re starting with Quinn Compton from Alpine Ridge, Idaho.
She’s riding her spitfire, Hook. She’s been training and working hard to get here, her third year in a row to reclaim her title of World Champ, and I’m sure that she’s gonna take it all back—”
I watched as Hook burst from the gate, Quinn’s turquoise shirt brighter than anything else in the arena.
She had the perfect form as she rounded the first barrel, her hair flying behind her, and then the second barrel, taking the corner a little too tight, but not hard enough to knock it over, then the last barrel.
She rounded it, and I moved, turning off the mic so my partner could finish her ride.
Hook was fast—I just had to move faster.
My boots hit the dirt, slipping just slightly, but I made it to the barrel and climbed until I was standing on it.
I heard whoops from the crowd and saw myself on the screen overhead.
Quinn was still moving, but suddenly she halted, stopping Hook right before they ran into the now closed gate.
Hook reared up and turned, and once all four of his hooves were back on the dirt, I raised the mic and flicked it back on.
“Hey, Compton,” I said, my voice now booming through the entire speakers, louder than before.
Quinn settled Hook, then she faced me, and I swear…I saw her smile from here.
“You look like you belong on this dirt.” I heard the shake in my voice.
Quinn kicked Hook forward, closing the gap between us.
She looked around the arena, piecing the puzzle together.
Once she got closer to me, I jumped from the barrel, and she dismounted Hook.
We closed the gap, her breath just as heavy as mine.
We were inches apart. I smiled, meeting her emerald eyes and telling myself I couldn’t kiss her just yet, then I held up the small box, opening it to reveal the square-cut diamond with turquoise jewels surrounding it.
“How about we make it official? Will you marry me?” I said in the mic—and the crowd screamed.
Her gaze went to the ring, to me, back to the ring, and finally back to me.
Her entire body began to bounce, buzzing with what I could only assume was adrenaline and excitement.
She bit her lip, but her smile still grew, and when she threw her arms around my neck, we both lost balance and fell to the ground, the dirt flying up in all directions around us.
“Yes, Wyatt,” Quinn whispered into my ear so only I could hear. “Yes, yes, yes.”
I dropped the mic, its sound resonating throughout the arena. I raised her face to me, loving the way the flush spread across her cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted, perfectly kissable. And before anyone could make us get off the dirt—I did just that. I kissed my fiancée.