Chapter Thirty-Two
"Drop it!"
Wyatt's voice rang through the room, hard and commanding, cutting across every thought in Daisy's mind.
Relief rushed through her so quickly that it almost left her dizzy.
Clara sucked in a startled breath while Nathan barked an order from somewhere nearby, his voice carrying the hard authority Daisy had heard countless times before. Amos fired off a curse filled with genuine shock, and the violent scrape of furniture followed as people lunged into motion.
The room transformed into a chaos of overlapping sounds that crashed together from every direction. Shoes pounded across the floor. Wood groaned. Someone collided with a table hard enough to send it skidding.
Hope flooded through Daisy as she listened.
Wyatt and Nathan had made it inside. They'd reached them. As voices erupted around her and the struggle began, she allowed herself to believe the nightmare was finally coming to an end.
Daisy could already picture Wyatt and Nathan bringing the situation under control, could almost hear the confidence settling into their voices once Amos understood that the advantage had slipped away from him.
The possibility of Flint walking out of the house alive no longer felt distant or impossible, and that fragile hope spread through her with every passing second.
Then the atmosphere shifted.
She heard it immediately in the abrupt movement of Amos's boots and in the rough breath that escaped him.
She couldn't see what Amos was doing, yet the change registered through every sound around her. The balance of attention had moved. The struggle unfolding across the room had ceased to be his primary concern. She could hear it in Amos as he grunted, trying to move toward her.
His focus had landed on her.
"Daisy!" Flint's voice tore through the chaos. “No!”
The impact that followed shook the room hard enough to rattle everything around them.
Furniture skidded across the floor with a violent scrape. Wood cracked beneath a heavy collision. Glass burst somewhere nearby, scattering sharp fragments across the room. A grunt of pain cut through the noise before another crash slammed into the walls and echoed through the house.
Daisy staggered backward until the edge of a table caught her hand, giving her enough support to stay upright.
The fight raged beyond her reach, hidden in a darkness she couldn't escape, and its helplessness threatened to overwhelm her.
All she had were the sounds of bodies struggling for control, the harsh rhythm of labored breathing, and the constant barrage of impacts as the men crashed into every obstacle unlucky enough to stand between them.
Fear worked its way through Daisy with every sound that tore across the room.
The struggle had become impossible to follow.
Crashes overlapped with shouted orders, furniture scraped across the floor, and bodies slammed into walls hard enough to shake the house.
The noise came from every direction at once until she could no longer separate one voice from another or tell who held the advantage.
Her thoughts kept circling back to Flint. Every impact dragged his name through her mind. Every cry of pain made her wonder whether it had come from him.
She clung to the edge of the table until her fingers began to ache, desperate for an anchor while chaos consumed the room around her.
Another heavy collision thundered through the house, followed by a pained shout she couldn't identify.
The uncertainty gnawed at her because every possibility felt equally terrifying.
Flint could have Amos pinned beneath him.
Amos could have gained the upper hand. Either man could be lying injured on the floor while the fight raged around them.
The violence showed no sign of slowing.
A solid punch landed with a sickening crack. Furniture shifted again beneath the force of another collision. Someone barked an order that vanished beneath the noise before Daisy could make out the words.
"Flint!" she called.
Her voice disappeared beneath the sounds of the struggle.
Another violent impact answered. A cry of pain followed so quickly that her pulse lurched. Worry drove her away from the table.
She extended her hands and moved carefully toward the noise, relying on sound to guide her as she navigated around chairs and overturned pieces of furniture scattered across the room.
"Flint!"
The fight continued without pause.
Daisy slowed and listened, searching for any sign that he'd heard her. When she spoke again, she put every ounce of authority she possessed into his name. "Flint Callahan."
Using his full name accomplished what shouting never could.
The struggle stopped.
The sudden quiet hit Daisy almost as hard as the violence had, leaving her standing in a room filled with silence and ragged breathing. She heard somebody shift across the floorboards, heard the faint creak of wood beneath a change in stance, and then nothing followed.
Everyone seemed to be waiting.
Daisy swallowed and gathered the courage to say what mattered. "Amos doesn't get to decide who you are. You've spent years proving that one terrible chapter doesn't define your life, and I refuse to watch you hand him the power to change that now."
Daisy could hear her own pulse rushing through her ears while she waited, uncertain whether she'd reached him or arrived too late.
Then Flint released a long, uneven breath.
The sound carried a weariness that went far beyond physical exhaustion. It carried grief. It carried old wounds. It was the release of a burden that had been weighing on him for far too long.
She moved toward him carefully, guided by the sound of his breathing. "Don't give him any more of your life than he's already taken."
The rage that had consumed the room had faded, leaving behind a tense stillness that seemed to hold everyone in place.
When movement finally came, Daisy recognized the change immediately.
Rope dragged across the floor. A chair scraped against wood. Someone muttered an irritated curse while being forced into position. The sounds carried purpose rather than violence.
Flint had stepped back from the edge. He wasn't pouring years of anger into Amos anymore. He was securing him and making certain he'd answer for what he'd done through the law rather than personal vengeance.
Relief swept through Daisy with such force that her legs threatened to buckle beneath her.
Nathan broke the silence with the practical tone of a man who preferred solving problems to discussing emotions. "I'll go fetch the sheriff while everybody's still making sensible decisions.”
A few feet away, Wyatt let out a low breath. "Best idea I've heard all day."
Boots moved across the room while a door opened somewhere nearby. A rush of cool night air swept through the house before the door closed again, carrying away a little of the tension that had saturated every corner of the room.
Daisy heard Wyatt cross to Clara's side.
The small sound Clara made when he reached her held overwhelming relief, and Daisy couldn't help smiling through the tears gathering along her lashes.
After everything they'd endured, hearing that single fragile crack in Clara's composure felt almost as reassuring as knowing Amos had finally been stopped.
Gradually, every other sound lost importance.
Flint was coming toward her.
When he finally reached her and wrapped his arms around her, Daisy held him with equal force. The contact stole what remained of her composure.
His clothes carried the scent of sweat, dust, and cold night air. His heartbeat pressed against her through layers of fabric. Every detail grounded her in a truth she was still struggling to accept. That he was here once more.
Daisy buried her face against his shoulder and listened to the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
The house had grown quiet, yet her nerves still waited for another gunshot or another desperate shout to shatter the peace.
With each breath Flint drew, that fear weakened a little more, replaced by the certainty that he was standing right in front of her and holding her exactly the way she'd wished he would during every painful night they'd spent apart.
Flint lowered his head until his forehead rested against her hair, and when he finally spoke, the regret in his voice carried far more weight than the two words themselves. "I'm sorry."
Daisy closed her eyes and listened to him. The apology wasn't really about tonight. It carried months of distance, unanswered questions, and every choice that had led them here.
Her hand slid across his back in a slow, reassuring motion. "I know you are."
A quiet laugh escaped him, though it sounded worn around the edges. "That response feels suspiciously generous."
The corner of her mouth lifted. "That's because you've spent months making me practice patience."
He let out a breath that almost sounded like a defeated chuckle. "I should've come back sooner."
"You should've trusted me enough to let me share the burden," she replied gently. "Those aren't quite the same thing."
His arms drew her closer. "I thought I was protecting you."
"I know."
The words came without accusation because she understood exactly how Flint's mind worked. He carried responsibility the way other people carried their own names, and once he'd convinced himself a problem belonged to him, he fought like hell to keep anyone else from carrying part of it.
"I won't leave you behind again, Daisy."
The promise took root deep within her.
Life had taught both of them that certainty could disappear without warning. Plans change. People suffered losses they never saw coming. A future could shift course overnight.
What mattered wasn't the guarantee. What mattered was Flint believing every word as he said it.
Daisy lifted her hand and found his face.
Her fingertips traced the line of his jaw before moving across the roughness of evening stubble.
The familiar contours steadied her in a way nothing else could.
She'd memorized him through touch long ago, learning the shape of his smiles and frowns, learning the places where tension gathered when he worried, learning every detail he never realized he revealed.
The simple fact that she could stand here and touch him felt miraculous.
Emotion swelled inside her until holding it back became impossible. "I love you."
She'd carried the words quietly through every lonely day and every sleepless night, through every fear that he might never come home, and speaking them aloud felt less like revealing a secret than finally giving voice to a truth that had been waiting patiently for its turn.
Flint drew a slow breath that seemed to catch somewhere halfway through, and Daisy felt his hands slide up to cradle her face
His thumbs brushed her cheeks as though he needed the reassurance that she was truly standing in front of him.
Then he kissed her.
The contact carried a fierce intensity that stole every coherent thought from her mind.
Daisy rose onto her toes and caught hold of his shirt, pulling him closer while the kiss deepened between them.
Flint answered immediately, one arm wrapping around her waist as though he couldn't bear even the smallest distance separating them.
His mouth moved against hers with a certainty that matched everything he'd said only minutes earlier, and the promise woven through the kiss felt far more convincing than words ever could.
The world beyond them faded into irrelevance.
Daisy could feel the steady beat of his heart through his shirt. She could feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips and hear the uneven rhythm of his breathing whenever they briefly paused, only to find each other again.
When the kiss finally eased, neither of them showed any interest in stepping away.
Flint kept one hand against her face while his forehead settled gently against hers, and the soft laugh that escaped him carried equal parts relief and disbelief.
It sounded like a man who'd finally found his way home.
“I love you too, Daisy,” he muttered. "I've loved you through every stubborn argument, every bad decision, and every time you pretended you didn't know I was right."
A laugh escaped her. "You've always been unbearable."
"I know."
His voice softened. "I don't care that life got harder.
I don't care that the future won't look exactly the way either of us imagined.
I care about you." He squeezed her hand.
"I want every ordinary day that comes after this one.
I want breakfast with you. I want arguments about ranch accounts.
I want to grow old listening to you tell me when I'm being foolish. "
A tear slid down her cheek. "That happens often."
"Constantly," he agreed. "I've accepted my fate."
Daisy laughed through her tears.
Flint drew a long breath, and Daisy felt the subtle rise and fall of his body before he spoke. "Marry me."
Her breath caught.
She became acutely aware of every detail she could feel and hear.
Flint's hands remained steady against her.
His heartbeat drummed beneath her palm. His breathing had lost its earlier confidence, replaced by the unmistakable tension of a man who'd faced danger without hesitation yet somehow found this far more frightening.
Emotion swelled inside her so quickly that it left her struggling to speak.
Years ago, she'd convinced herself that certain dreams belonged to other people. Life had taught her to expect loss long before happiness arrived, and every disappointment had seemed to narrow the path ahead until the future felt smaller than it should have.
Standing in Flint's arms, that future suddenly felt limitless. "Yes.”
The breath Flint released sounded almost disbelieving. A laugh escaped Daisy before she could stop it. After everything they'd survived, after every obstacle they'd somehow managed to overcome, hearing genuine astonishment in his reaction felt oddly endearing.
His hands slid to either side of her face. "Yes?" he asked, and the hopeful uncertainty in his voice made her smile wider.
Daisy lifted her hands until she found his jaw. "Yes, Flint," she said, brushing her thumbs across his skin. "Yes, you stubborn man. Yes, I'll marry you."
As he wrapped his arms around her, she allowed herself to imagine the life waiting beyond this night.
She thought about waking to the sound of his voice every morning. She thought about evenings spent arguing over harmless nonsense neither of them actually cared about. She thought about building a home filled with laughter, friendship, and the quiet comfort of knowing exactly where she belonged.
For the first time in years, the future felt welcoming rather than uncertain.
It felt like Flint.