Chapter 3 – Colton
The gravel crunches under my tires as I pull into the driveway at Silver Creek, the familiar rhythm of home settling in my bones. The sun’s dipping low now, painting the western sky in shades of fire and gold. I cut the engine and sit for a moment, letting the silence settle.
I should’ve gone straight to Shadowbrook.
That was my first instinct when I hit the county line earlier this evening. But after four days on the road, I needed a hot shower and a few minutes to clear my head before seeing her. This isn’t the kind of thing you walk into covered in road dust and smelling like diesel.
Besides, she’s staying at Wyatt’s place. There’s plenty of time.
I grab my duffel from the passenger seat and head toward the house. The porch light’s already on, moths flitting around the bulb, and the comforting creak of the screen door welcomes me like always.
I’m halfway through the door when I hear it.
Her voice.
Light. Familiar. Musical.
It stops me cold.
“…no, Mr. Walker, really. I’m happy to help wherever I can. Wyatt’s been running on fumes, and Rachel’s still adjusting to the new schedule. Besides, it feels good to be back out here.”
My heart kicks hard against my ribs.
She’s here.
Now.
Inside my house.
Before I can fully gather myself, my father’s voice follows. “Well, you know you’re always welcome here, Lacey. You’re like family to us. Lord knows you’ve spent enough time at Silver Creek over the years, running wild with this one.”
I hear the grin in his voice.
My throat goes dry. The knot I thought I had worked out over four hours of driving cinches tight again.
I step into the kitchen doorway, and there she is.
Lacey Monroe.
Sitting at my father’s kitchen table like she’s never been gone.
She’s wearing one of those soft flannel shirts she always loved, sleeves rolled to her elbows, hair pulled back in a loose braid that drapes over her shoulder.
Her face lights with laughter at something Dad says, and for half a second, I’m eighteen again, sitting on the tailgate of my truck while she laughed at some stupid joke under the stars.
But this isn’t eighteen-year-old Lacey.
She’s a woman now.
More beautiful than I remembered—which shouldn’t be possible. Softer somehow, but stronger too. The hard edges from city life haven’t taken away the glow that always lived inside her. If anything, being back here sharpens it.
As if she feels me before she sees me, her head turns. Her eyes land on mine.
For one beat, neither of us speaks.
And just like that, every mile I’ve driven, every year we’ve spent apart, collapses into this one moment.
“Colton,” she says softly.
My name on her lips shouldn’t carry this much weight, but it does.
I clear my throat, suddenly hyperaware of the heat creeping up the back of my neck. “Hey, darlin’. Didn’t expect to find you here tonight.”
Dad chuckles, oblivious to the thousand unspoken things hanging in the air between us. “Caught her trying to help Mason out this afternoon while I was finishing up paperwork. Told her she might as well stay for supper since you were due back any minute.”
Lacey smiles, a little shy now, as if realizing the surprise of her being here might’ve thrown me. “I hope you don’t mind. Your dad insisted.”
Mind? Lord, woman, I’d have driven straight through the night to see you sooner if I knew you were here.
Instead, I say, “’Course I don’t mind. You’re always welcome.”
I set my duffel down near the stairs, forcing my legs to carry me into the kitchen like I’m not internally reeling. My boots scuff across the worn hardwood as I cross toward them.
Her eyes follow every step.
The electricity between us hums, invisible but alive.
I shake my father’s hand automatically, my focus only half on him as he claps my shoulder and launches into small talk about the hay order I just finalized. I nod in the right places, but my eyes keep drifting back to her.
Lacey sits quietly, her fingers tracing the rim of her iced tea glass, her gaze darting to mine, then away again.
The easy comfort we’ve always shared is still here, but there’s something new layered beneath it now. Heavier. Unspoken.
Finally, Dad stands with a satisfied sigh. “Well, I’m gonna head out to the barn, check on the mare before it gets too dark. You two catch up.” His eyes twinkle with that same damned mischievous glint I saw in Mason last year when Wyatt brought Rachel home for the first time.
He knows.
They all know.
The door swings shut behind him, leaving us alone.
The kitchen seems smaller now. Warmer. Charged.
Lacey clears her throat, offering a soft smile. “I didn’t mean to ambush you your first night home.”
“You didn’t,” I say quickly. “Best surprise I’ve had in a long time.”
Her cheeks flush, and she ducks her head for half a second before looking back up. “I figured you’d swing by Shadowbrook first.”
I shrug, leaning against the counter across from her, needing the distance for my own sanity. “Thought I’d clean up before seeing company.”
“Well,” she teases, voice lighter now, “you still look like you’ve been driving all day.”
I huff a laugh. “I have been.”
The silence stretches, not awkward, but weighted. Comfortable, but with something pulsing just beneath the surface.
“You look good, Colton,” she says softly.
My chest tightens. “So do you.”
The words feel too small for what I mean. She doesn’t just look good. She looks like home.
Her fingers toy with her glass again. “I’ve missed this place.”
“You’ve missed Silver Creek?”
“Shadowbrook. Here. All of it.” She pauses. “Missed you too.”
The simple honesty of it nearly floors me.
“I’ve missed you too, Lace.”
The nickname slips out before I can catch it, like it’s been waiting all this time to be used again.
She smiles—small, genuine, and full of something I can’t quite name yet.
“I guess it’s been a while,” she says softly.
“Too long.”
She glances up at me then, her eyes catching the overhead light just right, turning them into pools of amber warmth. That spark—the one that always lived between us, even when we were too young and stupid to understand it—flares back to life.
Neither of us moves.
Neither of us breathes.
I swallow hard, hearing the faint echo of a long-ago promise ringing between us.
If we’re still single at thirty…
She’s back.
She’s here.
And I won’t lose my chance this time.