30. Plant Custody is Real #2
I had an incredible man—a man who worked hard, who had told me loved me, and then proved it by being willing to mortgage his private shares of his family ranch just to do right by me.
And he loved my son. He loved Maverick with a raw, open affection that was something out of a daydream.
And it wasn’t just him. It was the whole family.
I’d witnessed it all summer, the Lockharts loving and accepting Maverick like he’d always belonged to them.
Selma teaching him how to plant tomatoes, Damon letting him ride shotgun on the ATV, even grumpy Dawson sneaking him extra marshmallows at the s’mores fire.
They didn’t do half measures. They just pulled you in until you forgot you weren’t one of them.
So what was I doing, really? I was standing in the cold shadow of the barn, watching the party from the outside, and trying to convince myself that leaving this—leaving them—was a smart, adult, responsible choice.
That it was safer to be alone than to risk being heartbroken.
Even though the only one breaking my heart now was me, myself, and I.
I couldn’t even imagine what my life would look like if we left. If Mav lost all this. If I lost all this.
I scanned the crowd and found Dean speaking to Dawson. His suit jacket was off, sleeves rolled, tie loose. He looked so tired and so devastatingly handsome I had to steel myself to walk over.
When I got within a few feet from him, it felt like the atmosphere shifted. He looked at me, and as our eyes met, I had to pretend my legs weren’t shaking. “Hey, got a minute?”
His mouth twisted in that way it did when he was bracing for impact. “Always.”
“Can we talk later, after I finish up?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound as desperate as I felt.
His answer was sharp as shattered glass. “No.”
I stared at him, all the breath in my lungs evaporating like morning fog.
For a split second, I was eight years old again, watching my mother drive away for the last time, carrying every hope I ever had for a family with her in the trunk of her rusted-out Subaru.
I felt the urge to apologize, to backpedal, to make a joke and laugh this moment into nothingness.
Before I could turn away, Dean caught my wrist in his hand, warm and strong. “We’re talking now,” he said, low and steady, and then—without another word—he towed me through the barn doors and out into the moonlit dark.
I nearly tripped over my own feet, stumbling to keep up with his relentless, single-minded stride.
He didn’t stop until we reached one of the guest cabins.
He grabbed his keys, and opened the door.
Once we were inside, he let go of my wrist, and as he did he traced his thumb lightly over the inside of my palm.
I was so keyed up I could feel every ridge of his fingerprint. I stood with my back to the door, pulse hammering in my neck, while Dean stared down at me. His jaw worked and unworked as if he couldn’t find the right words to say.
I’d seen him angry before, at his brothers, at a spreadsheet that refused to balance, but I’d never seen him like this.
Not even that time the livestock broker tried to double-bill him for the same order and Dean walked him outside for a “chat,” returning with the sort of iciness that suggested he’d either negotiated a fair price or buried a body off the south pasture.
Right now, though, I didn’t think he was angry. If anything, upset, frustrated maybe. He leveled me with his dark, stormy eyes as he ran his hands through his hair.
“It’s been killing me to stand by and not say anything to you. I told myself you knew what was best for you and Maverick and all I want is what’s best for you both. But I also said if I got the chance to talk to you, I was going to tell you how I felt.”
I waited, not speaking, not moving, not breathing.
His voice was rough, shaky. “I can’t just let you leave.
Not if there’s any way on earth you’ll stay.
I’ll match The Whitmore’s offer. I’ll triple it.
I’ll do whatever you want—full control of your schedule, set your own rates, an expense account, I’ll build you a corner office overlooking the pasture if that’s what it takes.
You want to work remote from home? Done.
You want a bigger team? I’ll make it happen.
I’ll make anything happen, as long as you and Maverick stay here with me. ”
He took a single, measured step toward me, closing the small distance between us. His voice thickened, and the words that came next had a gravity that pulled the oxygen out of the air.
“I don’t just want you to stay because you’re good at what you do. I love you, Felicity. I love you so much that I can’t sleep if I know you’re hurting.”
He looked away, swallowing hard. When he spoke again, his words were quieter, but not weaker.
“I love Maverick, too. I can’t picture my life without you, either of you. I don’t want to.”
I’d imagined hearing those words so many times—on the porch at sunset, in the kitchen over coffee, even once in a fever dream where he’d said it without looking up from Excel—but not like this. Not with the desperate, bruised honesty that made me want to curl up against his chest and never leave.
“Dean, I—”
“I know you don’t owe me anything,” he continued. “But I have to say it. I have to try, or I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
The silence between us was so thick you could rest your chin on it.
He took another step closer, so close that I could see the tiny, anxious vibrations in his hands. “Just tell me what to do,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me how to fix it. I’ll do anything.”
“I don’t want the Denver job,” I blurted. “I don’t want to move. I only took it because after you ghosted me for a week, I thought we were…that this was...”
“I know it looked like I didn’t care,” he rasped, “but I swear to God, Felicity, every second of every day I was thinking about you. Thinking about how to fix things. I just didn’t want to talk to you until I had a solution.
” He exhaled. “I thought I had to prove to you that the ranch didn’t need anything from you.
Prove that none of our relationship had anything to do with the ranch. ”
I shook my head, voice trembling. “I know, I know that now. But you can’t just disappear into yourself every time something gets scary. You don’t get to shut me out when you feel out of control. That’s not how this works.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this, Felicity. But if you tell me what you need, I swear I’ll figure it out. I’ll talk, I’ll listen, I’ll try every damn day. I just can’t lose you.”
He was right there, close enough to touch.
Close enough that I could see the panic in his eyes, the way his breathing stuttered through his chest. For the first time, I realized how much I’d needed to see him like this.
Not because I wanted him to hurt, but because I needed to know that I wasn’t the only one falling and hoping the other would catch me.
I felt tears brimming in my eyes. “I don’t need you to...I just need you to not shut me out.”
He nodded. “I promise. I’ll stop confusing silence with strength. I won’t shut you out.”
I knew he wasn’t the only one who had a promise to make. “And I promise I won’t choose flight when I get scared. I’ll stay and fight. I’ll fight for us, even if it scares the hell out of me.”
I stared at him, waiting for the fear to come back, the constant underlying feeling that the other shoe was going to drop whenever anything good happened.
It didn’t. It was just…gone, replaced by an ache so sharp and blinding that I didn’t know if it was relief or joy or terror that my life could actually be this good, that this man could actually love me.
He reached for my hand again, this time he pressed our palms together, fingers fitting perfectly, then bent his head to rest his forehead against mine.
He was shaking, and so was I, and maybe it was the most honest either of us had ever been.
That was all it took. Because in the next breath, I crashed into his arms and kissed him like we were both starving.