8. Lindsay
"That's the fifth time you've checked your watch in the last minute.” Jace appears at my side, pressing a glass of red wine into my trembling hands. “He’ll be here, baby.”
"I'm that obvious, huh?" I try to smile, smoothing my free hand down the silver sequined dress that had been hanging in my closet for months.
"Only to someone who knows you as well as I do." He leans against the windowsill beside me, close enough that our shoulders touch.
The New Year's Eve party is in full swing around us – couples dancing, champagne flowing, and the steady tick of the clock moving us closer to midnight.
"Want to talk about it?" Jace asks.
The crystal catches the light from the strings of fairy lights woven through pine garlands, throwing prisms across his black dress shirt that fits him perfectly, highlighting the broad shoulders I've become intimately familiar with these last few days. His dark hair is styled just enough to look effortlessly tousled, and the shadow of stubble along his jaw makes him look like he just stepped out of a magazine.
I take a sip of wine, gathering my thoughts. “What do you even say to someone after ten years? 'Hey Dad, how was prison? I graduated college, got a job, and oh yeah, I'm dating my best friend now?'"
"Well, when you put it that way..." Jace's gentle teasing draws a genuine laugh from me. "But seriously, sweetheart. You don't have to have it all figured out. Just start with hello."
"Easy for you to say, Mr. Emotional Intelligence."
"Hey, I earned that emotional intelligence the hard way – primarily by spending years trying to figure out how to tell my best friend I was in love with her without ruining everything."
I turn to face him fully, my heart doing that familiar flip it does whenever he talks about us. "And how's that working out for you?"
"Still waiting to hear if I've ruined everything." His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, and I resist the urge to trace the laugh lines with my finger.
"Not even close," I whisper, and his expression softens.
Before Jace can respond, headlights sweep across the driveway, and my breath catches. The familiar outline of Dad's old Ford pickup comes into view.
"That's him." My fingers tighten around my wine glass. "Jace, I–"
"Go." He kisses my temple. "I'll be right here if you need me."
My legs feel like lead as I make my way to the front door.
Ten years of memories flood through me – birthdays and graduations he missed, letters I couldn't bring myself to read for years, the slow process of forgiveness that brought us to this moment. I was fourteen when they took him away, still wearing braces and learning who I was. Now I'm twenty-four, and sometimes I catch glimpses of that girl in the mirror, wondering if he'll recognize me at all.
When I open the door, time seems to stop.
My dad stands there, one hand raised to knock. His hair is more gray than brown now, swept neatly to the side in a way that suggests he made an effort for tonight.
He's wearing a pressed blue button-down shirt and khakis that hang a little loose on his frame – prison having stripped away the broad-shouldered build I remember from childhood. Deep lines map his face, especially around his eyes, but those eyes – my eyes – are exactly the same warm brown they've always been.
"Hi, Dad." My voice barely carries over the muffled sound of music and laughter from inside.
"Lindsay." He clears his throat, his hand dropping awkwardly to his side. "Thanks for having me tonight. I wasn't sure if–"
"I'm really glad you came." The words tumble out before he can finish, and I mean them with my whole heart.
We stand there for a moment, the weight of ten years stretching between us. Then, before I can overthink it, I step forward and wrap my arms around him.
He stiffens for a split second before hugging me back, and suddenly I'm surrounded by that familiar scent of pine and motor oil that somehow hasn't changed. Tears prick at my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
"You look beautiful," he says as we pull apart, his voice rough. "Just like your mom."
The comparison catches me off guard – no one's compared me to Mom in years. "You think so?"
"Same smile. Same way of holding yourself." He gestures at the house, where the sounds of the party drift out. "This place is something else. Your letters didn't do it justice."
"You got my letters?" Something warm blooms in my chest.
"Every single one." His smile is tentative but real. "They meant... they meant everything, sweet pea.”
"Come inside?" I step back, holding the door wider. "There are some people I'd really like you to meet."
My dad nods, following me into the warmth of the party. I spot Jace immediately – he's been watching the door, trying to look casual about it and failing completely. He makes his way over to us, and my heart swells at how naturally he slides his hand into mine.
"Mr. Turner,” Jace says, extending his free hand. "I'm Jace Clayton. It's really good to finally meet you."
"You're the one who owns this beautiful ranch?" Dad asks, shaking Jace's hand.
"Family ranch," Jace corrects with a smile. "My brothers and I run it together. Can I get you a drink? We've got quite the bar set up."
Before Dad can answer, a familiar whirlwind in emerald silk descends upon us.
"Lindsay!" Rachel exclaims, then catches herself, lowering her volume slightly. "Sorry, sorry, I just couldn't wait anymore." She turns to my father with her warmest teacher smile. "Mr. Turner, I'm Rachel, Lindsay's best friend and occasional voice of reason."
"When have you ever been the voice of reason?" I tease, grateful for how she's diffusing the tension.
"I'll have you know I am extremely reasonable," Rachel sniffs. "I simply choose not to be boring about it."
Dad actually laughs at that, and something tight in my chest begins to unwind. As Rachel draws him into a conversation about his drive up, I lean into Jace's side.
"You okay?" he murmurs against my hair.
"Yeah," I whisper back. "I really am."
The next few hours pass in a blur of introductions and conversations.
Dad gradually relaxes as the Clayton family welcomes him with their usual warmth. I catch glimpses of him throughout the night – discussing classic cars with Wyatt, getting drink recommendations from Brody, even laughing at one of Luke's terrible jokes.
Each sight feels like a gift, like pieces of a life I never thought I'd get to see.
There's still so much to work through, so many conversations we need to have, but tonight I can see the possibility of a future where my father is part of my life again. Not in the same way as before – we've both changed too much for that – but in a new way that might be just as meaningful.
As midnight approaches, the energy in the room shifts like a current through water.
Someone dims the lights, and I watch as couples gravitate toward each other, drawn by the magnetic pull of almost-midnight on New Year's Eve. Rachel, ever the director of moments, is herding people into position, her voice carrying over the music as she organizes the countdown.
My heart is already racing when I feel Jace's fingers brush the small of my back, his touch sending electricity through the thin fabric of my dress. "Come with me?"
He holds out his hand – those familiar calluses, the small scar on his thumb from fixing fences last summer, the gentle strength I've come to rely on. I slip my fingers into his without hesitation, letting him lead me through the French doors onto the back deck. The winter air hits my bare shoulders, crisp and clean and full of possibility. Behind us, the party sounds become muffled, like we're in our own bubble of time and space.
"TEN! NINE!"
Jace turns to face me, and my heart stumbles over itself at the way the light from inside catches his profile. He draws me closer, one hand settling on my waist while the other releases mine to reach into his pocket. The wool of his dress shirt is rough under my fingers as I steady myself against his chest.
"Remember the first time we met?" His voice is soft with memory. "You were sitting under that big oak tree by the lake, lost in your book. I was showing off on my bike like an idiot?—"
"EIGHT! SEVEN!"
"—and you looked up just in time to see me completely wipe out." A laugh bubbles up in my chest at the memory, though my eyes are stinging with unexpected tears.
"You mean when you interrupted my perfectly peaceful afternoon by bleeding all over my favorite book?" I reach out and poke him in the ribs. "I still have that copy of Pride and Prejudice, you know. Complete with the bloodstains on page ninety-four."
His free hand trembles slightly as he pulls something small from his pocket, and I fight back a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold. "You kept it?"
"SIX! FIVE! FOUR!"
"Of course I kept it." I watch as his expression shifts, something vulnerable and determined crossing his face. "I kept everything about that day."
"Lindsay." His voice is rough with emotion as he takes both my hands in his. "You've been my best friend for so long that I can't remember what life was like before you. You're the first person I want to talk to every morning and the last person I think about every night."
My heart thunders in my chest. After all these years of wondering, of hoping, of trying to convince myself that friendship was enough...
"You make me laugh harder than anyone else," he continues, "challenge me to be better, and understand me in ways no one else ever has." He takes a shaky breath. "I've been in love with you for years – probably since that first day when you rolled your eyes at me and then helped patch up my knee anyway."
"Jace." My voice breaks on his name as tears blur my vision. "I love you too. I think I always have."
The smile that breaks across his face is brighter than any I've ever seen. His hands tremble slightly as he releases mine, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small velvet box. My breath catches in my throat as he sinks to one knee.
He opens the box, revealing a delicate vintage ring that catches the soft glow from inside. "Even with a scraped knee and a bruised ego, I knew you were something special. Something once-in-a-lifetime. Lindsay, will you?—"
"THREE! TWO!"
The world narrows to this moment – the solid warmth of him before me, the soft light reflecting in his eyes, the way his hand trembles slightly as he holds the ring. All the years of friendship, of unspoken feelings, of moments just like this one where we almost, almost...
"Marry me?" he whispers, the words both monumental and as natural as breathing. "Because I love you so much that sometimes I don't know what to do with it all."
"ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
"Yes," I breathe, pulling him to his feet. "Yes, yes, yes."
When Jace kisses me, it's like every romance novel I've ever read got it wrong. There are no fireworks, no symphonies – just this bone-deep feeling of coming home.
His lips are soft against mine, one hand tangling in my hair while the other still clutches the ring box between us. I taste mint and possibility and the slight sweetness of the champagne from earlier.
When we finally break apart, I realize it's started to snow – delicate flakes catching in Jace's dark hair like stars. His eyes are wide and wondering as he looks at me, like he can't quite believe this is real. With trembling fingers, he slides the ring onto my hand.
I know exactly how he feels.
Through the window, I catch a glimpse of my father watching us, his expression soft with something that looks like understanding.
Rachel and Jasmyn are pressed against the glass, both of them crying and grinning like they've been waiting for this moment even longer than I have. Luke and Wyatt are whooping and hollering, their excitement spilling out onto the deck, while Brody just stands there with that knowing smile of his, like he's had this planned in the family betting pool all along.
For the first time in more years than I can count, everything in my world feels perfectly, wonderfully right.
Jace taught me that cowboys know how to wait for the good things. He waited years, loving me quietly as my best friend. And tonight, under a Wyoming sky, I finally understand why – because some loves, especially those involving cowboys with patient hearts, were always meant to be.
The End