Chapter Nine #2
I slid closer, wrapped an arm around his waist, and pulled him in until his head rested in the crook of my shoulder. “You’re not doing this alone,” I said, and I felt his whole body relax at the words, as if the fear was something you could shuck like an old shirt.
He was silent for a while, just breathing, letting the new reality settle.
“You think she’ll cause a scene?” he asked finally, muffled against my chest.
“Not with the whole town watching,” I said. “And if she does, I’ll handle it.”
He snorted, a real laugh this time. “You gonna throw her out the window?”
“If that’s what it takes,” I said, and kissed the top of his head.
He went quiet again, but the shaking was gone. I watched the light creep up the far wall, the faint orange glow as the sun burned through the last of the fog. The world outside didn’t matter. Not yet.
When the second text came—perfect, see you there—I smiled. She thought she could play us. She had no idea who she was dealing with.
I felt Levi reach for my hand, his fingers sliding between mine, and I held on, hard enough that I knew he’d never slip.
“We’re gonna be okay, right?” he said, so soft I almost missed it.
“Yeah, Sunshine. We are.”
He nodded, squeezing my hand.
I looked at the envelope on the nightstand, then at him. “They can’t take this away,” I said. “Not now. Not ever.”
And for the first time in my life, I believed it.
After dressing, we ate breakfast off paper towels on the edge of my workbench. Nothing fancy—just leftover pie from Ma and a couple of cold sausages, the kind that leave grease prints on anything they touch.
Levi perched on the corner, bare feet swinging, a little less anxious now that the day had settled around us.
Every time he caught me looking at him, he made a face, sticking his tongue out or scrunching his nose.
I let him have it, because it made him laugh, and that was enough to get me through the morning.
I packed up the paperwork, triple-checked the manila envelope, and loaded us into the truck. The drive into town was quick—the back roads mostly empty this time of day, and the valley still soft with mist where the sun hadn’t burned it off.
Levi pressed his forehead to the window, drawing little circles in the condensation. He didn’t say much, but every once in a while, he’d reach over and touch my knee, just to remind himself I was there.
The county building sat at the far end of Main, a blocky brick box left over from the Works Progress Administration and never once improved upon.
The parking lot was already half-full with pickups and two Crown Vics—one marked, one not.
I pulled in next to the sheriff’s cruiser, half-hoping Floyd would be in the office so we could say hi, but also half-hoping he was out on call, where the world made more sense.
Inside, the floors creaked with every step, and the air was sharp with the smell of floor polish and old paper.
The clerk at the marriage desk was the same one who handled property taxes, and I could see her clock us before we even crossed the threshold.
She recognized the name on the application the moment I slid it over.
Her eyebrows went up. “McKenzie and… Hardesty?” she said, careful not to say “the Hardesty boy.” Small towns had long memories, and hers was photographic.
“Yep,” I said.
She gave us both a look, a flicker of surprise giving way to that sly, eager curiosity you only see in small-town government offices.
“Congratulations,” she said, then glanced at Levi. “You sure you want to take the McKenzie name? It’s a lot of paperwork to change it again if you change your mind.”
Levi snorted. “I’ll risk it.”
She typed for a while, her long nails clicking against the keyboard, then said, “You want a big ceremony or just the paperwork?”
Levi looked at me, and I shrugged. “Paperwork for now. Ma can plan the rest once the house is done.”
The clerk grinned, the gossip already burning in her cheeks. “I’ll have the copies ready by tomorrow. You’ll get the license in the mail next week. Just don’t let Jebediah sign as a witness—he’ll brag about it for years.”
She stamped everything with a flourish, then handed us a receipt and a copy of the application. “You two make a cute couple,” she said, voice dropping so only we could hear. “Don’t let anyone in this town tell you otherwise.”
We thanked her, then headed for the door. I could feel the other staff watching us, their whispers following as we went. Levi made it three steps into the sunlight before he stopped cold.
Across the street, standing in the shadow of the bus stop, was Gloria Winters.
She looked older than the last time I’d seen her—thinner, worn at the edges, hair gone brittle and over-bleached.
She wore sunglasses, but I could see the sharp cut of her jaw and the set of her mouth, tight as a trap.
Even at this distance, she looked dangerous.
“That’s her,” Levi whispered, the words barely there.
He inched closer to me, shoulder pressed hard against mine. I didn’t hesitate. I wrapped my arm around him, not subtle, not gentle, but with the kind of force that made it clear to anyone watching that I was not letting go.
Gloria clocked us in an instant. She took off her glasses, eyes laser-focused on Levi, then flicked to me, registering the threat and the promise in one. She smiled, thin and practiced, then turned away, as if she was the one with somewhere more important to be.
“We stick to the plan,” I said, steering Levi toward the truck. “You’re not meeting her alone, not for a second.”
He nodded, but his jaw was clenched, and I could see the old panic simmering just under the skin. “She’s gonna hate this,” he said.
“Let her,” I replied. “She’s not your problem anymore.”
We made it to the truck. I unlocked the doors and hustled him in, my hand never leaving his back. Once inside, he turned to me, blue eyes huge in the sunlight.
“You ever think maybe she’s got some kind of trick up her sleeve?” he asked.
“She always does,” I said. “But so do I.”
I glanced back at the courthouse, then at Gloria, now just a shadow in the distance. “And Levi?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re telling the family. All of it. No secrets.”
He looked down, fingers picking at the seam of his jeans. “But—”
“No,” I said, cutting him off. “The McKenzies protect their own, and you’re one of us now. Officially.”
He smiled, weak but real. “Okay. Yeah. Officially.”
I put the truck in gear, revved the engine, and pulled out onto the street. In the rearview, Gloria was still watching, her face gone to stone. I didn’t care. Let her follow. Let her try to rip him away.
“Think she’ll try to stop the wedding?” Levi asked, half-joking.
I reached over and squeezed his thigh. “Let her try,” I said, and meant it.
The road out of town stretched wide and empty, the whole valley bright with the promise of the day. I drove slow, savoring the feel of his hand in mine, the sound of his breathing, the absolute certainty that, whatever came next, I’d be the one standing between him and the rest of the world.
He was mine.
And I was never letting go.