Chapter Eighteen
I walk away from Bryce before I start yelling about the mark he obviously knew he left on my skin. That conversation is not one for everyone’s ears.
I stomp my way across the porch to where everyone’s gathered.
String lights glint like a thousand fireflies, draped across the rails.
The bonfire throws a low orange glow, flickering off faces I’ve known all my life.
The laughter, the chatter, the smell of hickory smoke and birthday cake—it all wraps around me, calming my frayed nerves.
Matty stands near the big folding table, her eyes dancing in the firelight and maybe from the two cocktails she’s had.
Shelby and Harleigh are on either side of her, cutting up like kids as they try to keep her from peeking at the cake.
Grandma Evelyn’s at the head of the table, holding a lighter steady with both hands, the little flame flickering in the breeze.
Imma Jean stands proudly behind the masterpiece she made—three tiers of perfection, frosted in cream, decorated with sugar flowers and chocolate fence rails, with a fondant figurine of Luna, Matty’s mare, on top.
“All right, everybody, gather round!” I shout, pushing through the crowd. “Birthday girl’s about to make a wish!”
A birthday wish. Our mother always made sure we each made one on our special day. She swore that birthdays held special magic.
Matty groans. “Y’all, I made a wish last night.”
“Lucky you gets two this year,” I call above the noise.
Her eyes flicker to me. “I told you, I’ve already got everything I could ever want right here!”
“Oh, come on. You can think of something,” Shelby says, nudging her. “It’s Mom’s tradition.”
Grandma leans forward, her silver curls loose tonight, and presses the lighter to the wick of a big pink candle shaped like the number twenty-eight. The flame catches and dances to life.
“All right, girl,” Grandma says, smiling, “make it count.”
We all start singing, loud and off-key, the way we always do. Even Daddy and Grandpa join in, deep voices rumbling beneath ours. Bryce is somewhere behind me; I can feel his gaze but don’t turn around. I focus on Matty, who’s beaming, eyes brimming with unshed tears.
When we hit the final line—“happy birthday to you”—I yell, “Make a wish, Matty Storm!”
She closes her eyes, her lips moving in a whisper none of us can hear. Then she opens them again and blows out the flame. Smoke curls, carrying her wish up into the sky.
The crowd claps and cheers, and Imma Jean swoops in with a knife, cutting the first slice for Matty while she leans closer to admire every detail.
“Oh my gosh, Imma Jean!” Matty gushes, running her finger gently along the fondant Luna’s mane. “It looks just like her! You even have the little white spot that looks like a half-moon on her muzzle.”
Imma Jean waves her hand, trying to hide her proud grin.
Matty’s smile softens as she looks at the bridle looped around the tiny horse’s neck. “Wait,” she says, her brow creasing slightly. “This isn’t … fondant.”
“Nope,” Caison’s voice cuts through the chatter.
He steps out from the crowd, his dark blue shirt rolled at the sleeves, collar open. He looks like the perfect picture of calm, but there’s a nervous flicker in his eyes.
Matty tilts her head, recognizing the leather immediately. “Is this”—her fingers tremble as she lifts it gently off the cake—“a bracelet?”
He nods. “Yep. Like the one you admired at the shop in town. I had it made for you,” he says, his voice carrying across the porch.
Her eyes flicker up to meet his. “Case …”
He steps up behind her, takes the bracelet from her hand, carefully fastens it around her wrist, and whispers in her ear. “Happy birthday, baby.”
She beams as she extends her arm to admire the thoughtful gift. “It’s beautiful. I love it. Thank you.” Her voice is soft and shaky.
“Look closer,” he says.
She blinks, confused, then glances down at the bracelet, squinting at the engraving burned into the leather. Her brows draw together as she reads the words out loud, voice catching halfway through. “Be my riding partner for life?”
A hush sweeps over everyone. The laughter fades, replaced by a loaded silence that stretches across the yard. Matty’s hand flies to her mouth as her eyes widen.
“Case,” she whispers, “what—”
When she turns around, he’s on one knee, his eyes fixed on hers. In his hand, an open ring box glints in the twinkling lights.
Everyone gasps in unison. I hear Shelby’s sharp inhale, Grandma’s and Marcia’s soft sobs. I catch Daddy’s misty eyes across the crowd. A look of pride on his face.
Matty just stands there, frozen, her mouth hanging open, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.
Caison smiles up at her, steady and sure. “Will you?”
Her breath comes out in a shaky laugh. “Whaaaat?” she stammers, voice trembling.
He chuckles softly, never looking away. “Will you be my riding partner for life?”
For a second, she doesn’t move. She just blinks down at him. Then she lets out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh and throws her hands over her mouth.
“Oh my God,” she whispers, nodding her head, tears streaming down her cheeks now. “Oh my God.”
He stays there, waiting patiently. The firelight dances across the oval diamond in the box.
“Yes!” she cries out suddenly, voice breaking. “Yes! Of course I will.”
Before anyone can react, she leaps into his arms. He catches her easily, standing with one arm wrapped around her waist, her face buried in his neck. The whole crowd explodes in cheers and whistles.
I’m clapping so hard that my palms sting, laughing and crying, all at once. Shelby’s bawling into Cabe’s shoulder, and Imma Jean’s got her hand over her heart, whispering to the heavens. Having one of her conversations with Mom.
Caison sets Matty back down gently, his forehead resting against hers for a heartbeat. Then he takes the ring from the box and slides it onto her finger.
It fits perfectly.
She looks down at it like she can’t believe it’s real, then back up at him, eyes shining.
“I love you,” she whispers.
“I love you too,” he says softly. Then he takes her mouth in a searing kiss.
The cheers grow louder, and Imma Jean wipes at her eyes. As Uncle Boone and Aunt Irene appear, carrying ice buckets holding bottles of champagne, Imma Jean grabs one and pops the cork. It shoots straight up into the night, a trail of fizz catching the light.
The cork lands somewhere in the yard. Imma Jean pours the bubbly into two flutes for Caison and Matty. Grandma Evelyn pops another bottle and starts filling paper cups, and Daddy passes them around.
Once we all have one, Imma Jean raises hers into the air. “To the happy couple!” she calls out.
We raise our cups high, voices echoing into the night. “To Matty and Caison!”
Matty laughs, still wiping at her eyes, and leans into him as he wraps his arm around her shoulders. They look like the picture of happiness. Like a country love song come to life.
The silver band glints on her finger as she bounces to where Shelby, Harleigh, and I stand. She waves it in front of us. “Can you believe this?” she says, voice shaky. “He totally surprised me. I didn’t even—oh my gosh!”
Shelby sniffs, laughing through her tears. “Yes, we can. We’ve been helping that man plan this for weeks.”
“Wait, what?” Matty turns toward her.
Harleigh grins mischievously. “Yep. Why do you think I hurried home early?”
“Y’all are so sneaky,” Matty says, shaking her head.
“You really weren’t suspicious?” I ask.
“Hell no,” she says. “I had no clue. Not about the party or the proposal. I thought last night’s dinner and dancing at The Soused Cow was it. I never expected all this.”
“Good!” I take a sip of champagne, feeling the bubbles tickle my throat.
The stars overhead seem brighter somehow, the air lighter.
Bryce appears beside Caison, clasping his shoulder and offering his congratulations.
I glance at him from the corner of my eye.
He looks at me then, and for a second, everything else fades. There’s just the two of us, and that look ties me in knots. I swallow and look away, pretending to be focused on Matty showing her ring to Grandma Evelyn.
Imma Jean starts cutting the cake, passing out slices on paper plates. Matty feeds Caison a bite, laughing when he smears frosting on her nose. He kisses it off, and the crowd goes wild again.
“Lord have mercy,” Grandma says, fanning herself.
“What?” I ask.
“I just never thought I’d see the day our Matty would look this happy again,” she chokes out.
“Neither did we,” Shelby says with a grin, raising her glass.
“It’s my prayer for each of you,” Grandma says, her eyes watering.
The night rolls on, full of music and toasts and dancing in the dirt.
Cabe and Royce keep tossing more wood on the bonfire, and the flames stretch high, sparks lifting into the endless Wyoming sky.
A slow and sweet song comes over the Bluetooth speaker, and Caison pulls Matty close.
She leans into him, her head against his chest, her fingers tracing the leather bracelet on her wrist.
Watching them, I feel that familiar tug in my chest. I wish Mom were here to see this. Oh, how she’d love Caison.
Shelby bumps my shoulder, reading my thoughts without me having to say a word. “You okay?” she asks softly.
I nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just … happy for her.”
She smiles knowingly. “Me too.”
We stand there together, watching our sister sway in the moonlight, wrapped up in the arms of a good man who earned her trust, her heart, her forever.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Shelby hisses under her breath suddenly.
I follow her eyes to where Waylon Ludlow—Holland and Priscilla’s wayward son—is standing off to the side, beer in hand, watching the happy couple.
“Who, Waylon?” I say, shrugging. “He and Caison are childhood friends. I’m sure he invited him. Why?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m just surprised to see him, is all.”
Mom and Waylon’s mother were good friends, and we all used to play together when we were little. But he took off soon after he and Shelby graduated high school and hasn’t really been home since.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Surprised or happy?”
She tears her eyes from him, and they meet mine. “Why would I be happy?”
“Why would you be unhappy?”
She growls under her breath and stomps off.
What the hell was that?
Before I can read too much into it, Matty catches my eye across the crowd, and she grins through her tears.
I raise my glass to her, and she lifts hers back, mouthing, Thank you.
I don’t know if she means for the party, or the years we’ve stood by her, or just for being here, but either way, it hits me deep.
And for a moment, it feels like everything’s right in the world.