Epilogue
Blake
One Year Later….
The ranch is quiet tonight, but damn is the sunrise beautiful.
The quiet that used to unsettle me now soothes me. I was so lost when I first arrived with nothing but a shaky sobriety and a suitcase full of ghosts. Now, I am secure. I am solid and safe—and I have one person to thank for that.
That stud is walking my way now, two steaming cups of coffee in his hand.
I stand on the porch of the cute cabin we’ve made ours, twisting a small velvet box in my pocket. This time last year, I was retching into a waste bin in a hospital hallway, certain my world was ending all over again. His accident was the last bit of reality I needed to keep me sober.
I hear the rhythmic thud-thud of boots on the gravel. It is too early for us to be up—and we’ve taken the weekend off—but we’re ranch folk so we’re up with the sun. The moment he walks out the shadows and the amber sun lights him up, my heart begins to flutter.
I think that must be why he calls me dove—because he gave me wings to soar.
“Good morning, darlin’,” he murmurs as he sets our coffee on the railing before moving behind me,
I sigh as I fall back against his chest, trusting him to be there to hold me. His arms slide around my waist, his chest a solid, warm weight against my back. I lean my head back against his shoulder, looking out at the morning mist cloaking the paddocks.
“Morning, stud,” I hum, snuggling back against him as I breathe in his earthy scent. “Will today be hard for you?”
He stiffens, his chin heavy against my hair. He knows the date; he knows exactly how many days have passed since the darkness nearly took him. It was an accident, pure and simple, leaving no lasting damage—physically, at least.
It didn't keep him out of the saddle, though none of us ride alone now. If Gunner hadn’t been so fast, "just in case" wouldn't be enough.
We savor the sunrises more these days, but the work on the ranch continues.
He still rides Stormchaser—though that took some time and a lot of maple syrup cookies.
“No, it won’t be hard. Not for me. You told me you loved me after the accident. You were there when I needed you. Like I know you always will be. Like I will always be there when you need me, Dove.”
“I know you will be,” I say, turning in his arms. I reach up, tracing a faint, jagged scar that runs down his temple—the only permanent souvenir of that day. “I am glad you know I will be, too. Because I have decided.”
He smirks, that arrogant, beautiful tilt of his lips. “What is it you’ve decided? I want to hear this, I can tell.”
“I decided…that I want you take your name. Because I do want the whole world to know that I am yours. I want you to be my husband, to take your name, train horses, stay sober, and take up all the space you let me,” I whisper.
I pull the box out. His breath hitches—a sharp, ragged sound that echoes the one he made when he first woke up to find me at his side in that hospital room.
I don't go down on one knee. We’ve done all the grand gestures we need to.
I just hold the gold band up between us, letting it catch the morning sunlight.
“I thought I would make one last mistake the night we met. I was so wrong. Because instead of another drink or going home with the someone I would later regret, I made the best decision of my life. I did a little dance with you. You brought me here and you made me feel safe, you made me feel solid for the first time in so long. I love you, Brooks Carter. I want to be your wife. Will you marry me, stud?”
For the first since we met, my big, bad cowboy is speechless.
His eyes go shiny, the rising sun making them shine as they lock on me.
“Hell, yes, I will marry you. I do not care who takes what name—as long a you’re mine, sweet Dove,” he hums as he pulls me flush against him, his mouth hovering an inch from mine.
“Justice of the peace tomorrow?” he whispers.
I laugh, and the sound echoes as he scoops me up to carry me inside the cabin. “Hell yes, we can get married tomorrow. I did give everyone the weekend off again, I think they knew why. I want to play husband and wife at least twice.”
One night was all it was supposed to be—but now I want all the rest of his nights too.