Chapter 35
35
HARPER
ONE WEEK LATER
T he farther we drive away from the city, the calmer everything becomes—not just around us, but inside me. The skyline fades behind tinted glass, replaced by stretches of highway and the steady rhythm of asphalt under tires. Trees blur past like they’re exhaling, and summer is upon us. The days are longer, the sun is brighter, and it’s one of my favorite seasons, other than fall.
We’re still hours from Sugar Pine Springs, but my excitement is ready to bubble over.
Brody’s behind the wheel of Easton’s vintage, blacked-out Dodge Charger, and the longer we’re in it, the more it feels like he was born to drive this car. It’s all dark chrome, deep engine purr, and intimidation. A “fuck around and find out” car, as Easton has coined it. This isn’t Brody’s sleek black Range Rover with its silent confidence; it’s louder. Bolder. Un-fucking-apologetic.
I glance at him from the passenger seat, sunlight cutting across his sexy face, and raise a brow. “So … when exactly did Easton give you permission to take his firstborn?”
Brody doesn’t miss a beat. “He didn’t.”
I sit up straighter. “You’re telling me you stole his car again?”
“I prefer liberated ,” he says, adjusting the rearview mirror with one hand while the other rests casually on the stick shift. “It practically begged me to take it.”
“Brody,” I groan, but chuckle, “Easton’s really going to lose his shit this time.”
“He’ll be fine,” he says, totally unbothered. “He needs to loosen up and go iron his socks.”
“To be a fly on the wall when he finds out,” I mutter. “Poor Lexi. She’s going to have to listen to this until her babies are born. That might be the only thing that pulls him away from complaining about it.”
“He’s out of town until tomorrow. We’ll be on the mountain by the time he notices.”
I shake my head as laughter escapes me while I settle deeper into the seat. The Charger hums beneath us like she knows exactly where we’re going. The open road stretches endlessly ahead, and the uncertainty doesn’t feel like a threat, but more like a promise as we race to our secret escape.
Brody glances over at me, his hand leaving the shifter to slide toward me. His fingers find mine easily, lacing them together without looking down.
“You good?” he asks.
I nod, thumb brushing along his. “It just feels different this time. It’s exciting.”
His mouth curves, just slightly. “That’s because it is.”
When when we cross the Tennessee state line, the sun dips lower behind us. And somewhere between stolen cars, back-road laughter, and the rhythm of his thumb against my skin, I realize we’re not running anymore. We’re going home.
By the time we pull up to the cabin, the last light of the day is caught in the trees—burnt orange bleeding into deep purple as the sun sinks behind the mountains. The Charger rumbles to a stop, its engine growling low, like it doesn’t want the ride to be over. Brody kills the ignition and rests his hand on the gearshift for a second longer, eyes on the cabin ahead.
It looks just like I remember the first time I laid eyes on it—wood weathered by years of Tennessee rain, the wraparound porch draped in shadows, a porch light glowing, like our past selves have been waiting for us to return to the comfort.
I step out of the car, shoes crunching against gravel, and breathe in the scent of pine and damp earth. The air is cooler here, thinner, cleaner. It wraps around me like a welcome, slipping into my bones and settling deep inside of me.
Brody circles to the trunk, grabs our bags, and walks beside me. I loop my arm around his as he leads the way up the steps. He unlocks the door, and my heart races with anticipation. We step inside, and the cabin is warm. The lamp next to the couch glows yellow, and I replay all the special moments we shared here. There’s a faint scent of cedar and vanilla hanging in the air, and music plays low from a record player in the corner that I never noticed before. It’s like it’s been playing since before we arrived. But it’s the flowers that catch my breath.
A simple arrangement sits on the kitchen table—wildflowers in a glass jar, not overly done, not staged. Just intentional, like someone didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but did anyway. I glance at Brody, and he avoids eye contact, pretending to fiddle with the luggage straps like they’re suddenly complex knots.
“Okay,” I say, “what’s going on?”
He glances up, face carefully blank. “What do you mean?”
“This.” I gesture around the room. “The music. The flowers. Did you hire a romance consultant while I wasn’t looking?”
“Just wanted to make it nice for you,” he says too casually. “And I didn’t want to go grocery shopping.”
My brows rise.
“We’re not leaving the cabin for two weeks. Just me and you, Sleeping Beauty.” He chuckles, finally meeting my gaze. There’s something warm behind his eyes.
I step forward, my fingers brushing his as I take one of the bags from his hand and set it on the floor.
“This is beautiful. Thank you.”
“You’re beautiful,” he tells me.
The silence between us stretches for a beat, and it feels like standing on the edge of something bigger than the Tennessee sky.
I turn toward the living room, running my hand along the back of the couch, and let the coziness wash over me. The last time I was here, I was half broken, full of fear, and unsure of everything. But tonight, I’m none of those things. I’m a changed woman because of Brody and his love.
The night settles around us like an exhale, and even though Brody drove the entire eleven hours, he still makes us dinner.
It’s simple though—grilled cheese and tomato soup. I try to help, but he insists I don’t lift a finger. I let him win, mostly because I like watching him move around the kitchen; it’s sexy. He doesn’t talk much while he cooks, just hums to the soft music on the record player. Every so often, he steals a glance and a kiss, and I breathe in every moment.
Once our food is ready, he sets it down on the two-person table we’ve eaten many meals at.
“Wow, this is the best grilled cheese. Thanks, Chef,” I say, loving how gooey it is.
He smirks. “You’re welcome, cutie.”
We exchange stolen glances and silent conversations. I never force Brody to speak, not when I know he’s comfortable not to. It’s fine because I don’t need words to communicate with him. His eyes say everything he doesn’t.
After we finish eating, he rinses our dishes and then leads me outside with our fingers interlocked. The chill nips at my bare arms, but I follow him without hesitation. Wood is already stacked in the firepit, and he bends over to start it. A few seconds later, with a click, lanterns light up in the backyard, creating a warm, ambient light.
A thick blanket is draped across one of the two Adirondack chairs, and there’s that same jar of wildflowers on the little side table, swaying slightly in the breeze. I stop walking because it’s absolutely magical. The simplicity of it, the care in how it’s laid out, makes my throat tighten.
“You did all this for me?” I ask.
“Of course. Seeing the look on your face right now? Worth it.”
He loops his finger in mine and leads me to the waiting chairs. I sink into it, and he sets the blanket over me before settling beside me, so close that our knees touch.
I let out a content sigh, watching the fire and enjoying the warmth. Above us, the sky stretches wide and open, stars poking through in clusters, bright and scattered and wild. There’s no city glow to drown them out here, and it feels like they’re sparkling just for us.
Neither of us speaks as we watch the flames flicker. He reaches over, and his hand finds mine. I glance over at him and smile because he’s so calm. But the longer I watch him, the more I see he’s holding something in. I notice it in how his thumb keeps running the same slow circle against mine and the way his jaw keeps flexing, like there’s something caught behind his teeth.
I reach for him with my opposite hand, my fingers brushing across his scruff. “What’s on your mind?”
He exhales through his nose, a shaky laugh caught somewhere in his chest. His eyes flick to mine, and whatever he’s been holding back starts to surface. “You know me so well.”
Brody leans forward and kisses me. It’s not hurried or hungry, just soft. And I don’t know if I’ve ever been kissed beneath the stars. His forehead rests against mine, our breaths mingling in the cool mountain air. The fire crackles beside us, casting orange light along his jaw. I watch his throat bob as he swallows, and for the first time since I’ve known Brody Calloway, he looks nervous.
“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this,” he starts, his voice low. “But every time I run through it in my head, it sounds too neat. Too practiced.”
“Don’t overthink it,” I whisper, fingers lacing with his.
He nods once and exhales like he’s bracing for a free fall, and then he shifts out of the chair and moves until he’s on one knee in front of me.
My heart stops. Actually stops.
His hands don’t shake, but there’s tension in his shoulders.
“I didn’t think forever was something I’d ever get,” he says, eyes locked with mine. “Not with my past. Not with the way I’d lived. I thought I’d always be the guy who showed up when things fell apart, never the one who got to build something of his own.”
Tears rise fast and hot behind my eyes, but I don’t blink them away.
“But then you came crashing into my life with your fire and your stubbornness and your impossible strength. And suddenly, I didn’t want to be the man who only protected people; I wanted to be the man who deserved you. The one who got to love you out loud with his full chest, without apology, exactly as you are.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. The leather is worn at the corners. He opens it, and inside is a simple, timeless ring—platinum band, oval diamond, nothing excessive, just elegant.
My mother’s ring.
I gasp, and I’m so overwhelmed by happiness that I don’t realize I’m crying until tears drip down my cheeks.
“Your father gave it to me,” he says, confirming it. “He mentioned how important it was for you to have this ring.”
“Brody …” His name comes out cracked and full of emotion.
“Harp, you didn’t save me, but you made me want to be saved. And I want a life with you. A home. A million slow mornings and quiet nights and every messy, real, beautiful thing in between. Please marry me. Please be my wife. Please let me protect you and love you until my very last day.”
I can’t speak, but I nod hard, fast, too many times. And then I’m out of the chair and into his arms, the blanket falling to the ground as I kiss him through the tears, through the laughter, through the shaking in both of our hands.
“Yes,” I finally manage against his mouth. “A billion times yes.”
He slips the ring onto my finger, and I stare at it like a piece of my heart has finally returned to me.
We hold each other under the stars, the fire warm beside us, the trees swaying like they’re witnesses. And as he presses his lips to my temple, I know this isn’t a dream. It’s my reality. We lie together until the fire burns down, and instead of adding more, Brody stands, lifting me into his arms and carrying me over his shoulder like a caveman.
“Brody Calloway!” I say with a laugh as his hand lands firmly on my ass. “I thought we talked about this!”
“We did,” he says as he takes the steps up the porch and takes me inside.
The door closes behind us, and he sets me on my feet.
We’re smiles and laughs as he takes my hand in his. He twists the ring with his thumb; the cool metal against my skin feels like it belongs there, like my finger has always been waiting for him.
I glance down at it again as he leads me to the couch and stacks logs in the fireplace. The wood immediately catches, and the diamond sparkles. When I look at him, I know that he’s everything I’ve ever wanted and dreamed about. His smile hasn’t faded since I said yes.
Brody moves into the kitchen, and I watch him as he pours two fingers of whiskey into mismatched tumblers.
He joins me on the couch with a cute grin and hands me mine. He lifts his glass. “To forever.”
“And ever,” I add.
We clink our glasses together and drink, his eyes never fully leaving mine.
Brody isn’t just someone I love; he’s the man I chose. And tonight, under the stars, he chose me too. It’s the greatest feeling I’ve ever experienced—to love and be loved while also being seen.
I set my glass down on the coffee table and move closer to him. The tips of my fingers brush under his shirt, against his skin. His breath catches, just slightly, the space between us stretching thin.
“I wished for this life with you.”
His hand finds my waist, warm and steady. “Guess I’m proof wishes come true.”
“I forgot how much of a smart-ass you are, Calloway,” I joke.
He chuckles, then kisses me slower. His lips move against mine with the kind of hunger that isn’t about urgency but meaning. My fingers lightly trace across the hard lines of his stomach. I love the way his groans against my mouth sound.
He pulls me close until I’m straddling his lap, both of us breathless. His hands slide beneath the hem of my shirt, palms rubbing up my back.
“You’re going to be my wife,” he whispers, his mouth brushing the curve of my neck.
“I can’t wait.”
He kisses me again, and this time, there’s no holding back. My heart pounds so hard that I can feel it in my throat. He just proposed, and I said yes. His blue eyes are dark, hungry, and I can feel the bulge in his pants straining against the fabric, begging for my attention. My mouth waters as I think about having him for dessert.
I slide off him and drop to my knees on the carpet, my fingers trembling as I reach for his belt. The leather slides free with a hiss, and I can hear his breath hitch above me. My fingers fumble with the button of his jeans, and after I finally pop it open, the zipper comes down with a slow, zipping sound. His cock springs free, already hard as fucking steel, the thick vein running along the underside pulsing with every heartbeat.
“This cock is mine,” I whisper, my voice thick with lust.
“Then own it,” he quips.
“Plan on it,” I say, tilting my head, wrapping my hand around his shaft, feeling the heat radiating from him.
I lick my lips, leaning in closer, my breath ghosting over the swollen head, where pre-cum is already beading. The scent of him is intoxicating—musky, primal—and my eyelids flutter as I take him into my mouth.
My tongue swirls around the tip, savoring the salty taste of him. His groan is deep, nearly a growl, and it vibrates through me as I take him deeper, inch by inch. My lips stretch around his girth, my jaw aching in the best fucking way as I work him into my throat. His hands grip my hair, not guiding me, just holding on for dear life as I sink down until my nose brushes against his pelvis.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
I pull back, letting my tongue drag along the length of him before plunging back down, deeper this time. My throat opens up for him, swallowing him whole, and I can feel his cock twitch against my tongue as I suck him off like my life depends on it.
My hand joins in, stroking what my mouth can’t reach, twisting and tugging in rhythm with my head bobbing. Saliva drips from my lips, coating his dick in a slick wetness. The sound of my mouth working him is obscene. It’s wet, sloppy, and I can hear every fucking slurp, loving every guttural moan that escapes his lips.
“I’m so close,” he warns, his fingers tightening in my hair.
But I don’t stop. I can’t stop. I want to taste him, feel him spilling down my throat.
My free hand slides into my panties, rubbing my clit, feeling the fabric already soaked with my arousal. The pressure builds as I suck him deeper, faster, my head bobbing until he’s fucking my face, his hips jerking with every thrust.
“I’m gonna …” he starts, but I cut him off by swallowing him whole again, letting his cock hit the back of my throat.
With a guttural growl, he comes. Hot, salty liquid shoots down my throat, and I swallow every drop, my mouth milking him until he’s spent and trembling above me. When I finally pull back, my lips are swollen and slick, my chest heaving as I look up at him. His cock is still twitching, still hard, and I know this is just the beginning.
“Your turn,” he whispers, his voice dripping with sin.
I smile, and the look in his eyes says it all. Tonight, he’s going to rock my fucking world.