Chapter 44 MATTY
MATTY
The reception had gone late, the lanterns on the Magnuson ranch burning low and golden by the time we slipped upstairs. Ivy was out cold, her curls fanned across the pillow, her little ring glinting on her finger as though she’d been waiting all her life for this day.
So have I, Bug. So have I.
Hudson brushed a kiss across her forehead and murmured something only she could hear. I tucked the blanket higher and pressed my lips to her temple. She didn’t stir, just sighed, like she knew she was loved and had no care in the world.
“She’s out,” I whispered.
“Big day,” Hudson said softly, lingering a moment longer, then finally straightened. “Did you see how much fun she had?”
“If you’re worried about her staying with Dad and Ozzie, we can take her with us.
” I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. We’d prepared Ivy for our honeymoon by talking to her about what to expect.
She’d slept over with my dad and Ozzie so many nights that the ranch felt like home to her, so she should be fine, but I knew Hudson worried.
“No, we’ll have a lifetime of family vacations all three of us, but we’ll only ever have this one honeymoon. It’s just three days and we can always drive back if she gets anxious. Gray promised her camping out in the yard, and she’ll never forgive us for making her miss it.”
I chuckled. “She has been bragging all week about Papa taking her camping.”
“It was genius of Ozzie to think up activities for the three days so she doesn’t miss us much.” He tilted his head, cupped my cheek, and pressed his lips to mine. “Did Carter call you?”
“He sent a text. Said our gift will be here by the time we get back from our honeymoon.”
“Speaking of honeymoon, we should go. It’s a long drive ahead of us.”
We slipped back down the stairs hand in hand.
Outside, the whole town, who’d joined in the wedding reception, still waited—neighbors, friends, folks I hadn’t realized cared enough to stay this late.
They lined the yard under strings of twinkle lights, waving sparklers and mason jars of cider, cheering us on.
The handmade Just Married sign bounced against the tailgate of the pickup parked in the drive.
Hudson gave a low whistle. “This feels surreal. Never thought I’d belong anywhere like I do in this town.”
Hudson and I thanked everyone for celebrating with us.
Applause swelled as we made our way through the crowd.
Mom kissed my cheek, Dad clasped my shoulder, Ozzie and Gertie cried, Lawson and Opie hooted, and Rowan, of course, fanned his face like he’d faint if we didn’t hurry up and leave.
An unfamiliar older man stood next to him.
“When did he get here?” Hudson muttered. “I thought I told him not to come.”
My protective instincts immediately kicked in, and I held on to Hudson. “Who is he?”
“My brother.”
“Your brother?”
“We’ll talk about it in the truck.”
I left it alone for now and opened the door to the driver’s side of the brand-new truck for Hudson. “You want me to drive?”
“Yup.”
I got into the passenger’s seat, relishing the way he ran his hands over the polished dashboard. He gave a low whistle. “Damn, this is a sweet ride.”
“I’m glad you like it. It’s yours.”
He turned his head, suspicion narrowing his eyes. “What?”
“It’s yours. You’ve been driving mine around long enough. I figured my husband deserves his own truck. So I got you one.”
He sat there blinking, as if the words didn’t compute. Then he sputtered, shifting into gear. “Matty, I didn’t get you anything.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “Because I know exactly what I want.”
His eyes narrowed at the road ahead, lantern glow fading in the rearview. “You were gonna get it later anyway.”
“Then it’s perfect.”
“You’re so easy,” he muttered, but I caught the twitch of his mouth, the way he looked at me like maybe he couldn’t believe this was real.
We drove in silence for a while, the road stretching dark and familiar under the stars. I glanced at him. “So. How does it feel to be a Magnuson?”
His exhale was long, like he’d been waiting for me to ask.
“Didn’t think it would feel different. But it does.
” His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
“It already feels…steady. Like calm. And with the whole damn town cheering us off? That’s something else, Matt.
Never had people rally behind me like that before. ”
I reached over and laced our fingers together. “Get used to it. You’re one of us now, and you’re exclusively mine.”
He didn’t answer but placed our joined hands on his thigh.
“Speaking of mine,” he said after a pause, “why a ghost town? That’s where you’re taking me for a honeymoon? You had the whole world to choose from.”
“It’s beautiful there. Hot springs, hiking trails, cabins with copper tubs, stars brighter than you’ve ever seen. I did my research.”
He lifted his brows, teasing. “Such a Matty thing to do.”
Doubt slammed through me, making me uneasy. I sat upright and stared at him. “Shit—you don’t want to, do you? I should’ve asked. If you’d rather a normal resort, I can—”
“Matt.” He squeezed the hand on his thigh. “It’s fine. I’ll love it because it’s with you. Don’t go second-guessing now.”
The panic eased out of me. I nodded, swallowing hard.
I wanted the next three days to be amazing.
Our wedding had been perfect, minus the chicken fiasco.
Then, during the meal, Ivy burst into tears at the chicken on her plate, thinking it was Ms. Cluck.
She wouldn’t calm down until we found Opie and that damned chicken, which was destined to ruin all our lives.
The hours dragged and blurred, headlights cutting through empty country roads.
When Hudson got tired, we switched, and I got behind the wheel.
I missed a turn, and we ended up lost, had to double back, for which I earned his merciless teasing about having the worst sense of direction for a rancher who drives cattle.
By the time we rolled into Silver Creek Hollow, the light was fading fast, the sky smeared with lavender and gray like spilled watercolor.
The road narrowed into gravel and then into dirt, winding between pines that towered black against the dusky horizon.
When the old ghost town finally revealed itself, it was like stepping into another world.
Cabins stood tucked into the trees, their roofs pitched steep, chimneys smoking faintly.
The air smelled of pine, woodsmoke, and something mineral, probably the hot springs that steamed in the distance.
Fairy lights glimmered along the main path, strung between wooden posts, warm against the creeping dark.
The place felt alive and quiet all at once, like it had been waiting for us.
A man appeared at the gate, his lantern swinging golden arcs over the packed earth. He looked to be in his late fifties, his beard mostly silver, his shoulders broad under a worn canvas vest. He tipped his hat as we stopped the truck.
“Evenin’. You must be the Magnusons.” His voice carried the calm cadence of someone used to wide-open spaces. “Name’s Elias. I help to oversee the town with my missus.”
Hudson rolled down the window. “Yes, that’s us.”
I smiled at the ease with which he accepted being a Magnuson.
“Figured as much, though you’re late.” He leaned in a little, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret.
“We have two other couples about, but you won’t see much of them except at meal times.
Cabins are well spread out. Privacy’s kind of our specialty.
Door’s already open for you, and the place aired out.
You’ll find the key in the drawer of the bedside table.
You need anything, you pick up the phone and dial 0. ”
“Thank you,” Hudson said. “We’re looking forward to spending the next few days here.”
Elias waved us through, then walked ahead with the lantern bobbing in rhythm with his steps.
The path opened up to a cabin nestled against a slope of rock and fir trees, its windows glowing amber in the dusk.
Built of dark timber and stone, it looked solid, like it had stood there a hundred years, yet the soft light spilling through the curtains made it feel welcoming, almost tender.
When we got inside, carrying our bags with the kind of sluggish steps only a wedding day could carve into a man, the rustic charm hit us first, softened with surprising polish.
Wide-plank floors gleamed, the scent of fresh cedar rose like a balm, and modern lamps glowed warm atop old oak tables, light bouncing off polished beams overhead.
And in the middle of the room, like some kind of centerpiece, was the tub.
A copper basin, round and deep, its hammered surface catching every bit of light and gleaming like fire.
On any other day, I might’ve circled it, run my hand along the rim, imagined us sinking into it together.
But tonight, the sight only reminded me how heavy my arms felt, how my legs ached from standing and dancing, how my cheeks ached from smiling.
Hudson stopped dead, eyebrows lifting. “That’s… a bathtub.”
“Copper,” I corrected, smirking. “Fancy, right?”
He gave a low chuckle, running a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s a little ridiculous. But I’m not saying I don’t like it.”
His yawn cracked wide, and I had to laugh at how it turned into a groan halfway through.
“You tired?” I asked.
“Kind of. That drive was brutal.”
“I hear you.”
We made a valiant effort to take in the rest, the stone fireplace stacked with wood, the shelves lined with books and board games. But the truth was, we didn’t get far.
The bed caught both our eyes at the same time, and we looked at it with a grin.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked.
“If that’s how much you want to curl up in bed and sleep, then yes.”
“Let’s do it.”
“But aren’t we supposed to you… you know.”
“We got a lifetime, babe. Let’s get some rest and figure out everything else tomorrow.”