KATIE
“Thirty-two.” I drop onto the blanket next to Tristan. “Thirty-two.” I wipe sweat off my face, surely leaving a streak of soot, but I don’t care. I feel loose and relaxed and happy. I feel part of something bigger than myself.
Tristan is grinning at me, his real grin that shows his dimples and sets his eyes to glinting in the light of the bonfire.
His jaw is gilded and the firelight picks out the golden streaks in his hair.
He’s so handsome that my stomach does a small jump.
Just six months ago, I would have looked away and pretended not to notice. Now, he’s mine.
He bumps me with his shoulder. “Great job, killer.” He raises a mug toward Aiden. “I think Aiden’s just happy someone else is doing the work. His old back can’t take it anymore.”
Aiden snorts and Emory says something into his ear that makes him shout with laughter and then grip her tightly around the waist.
Tristan is smiling at them.
“You’re a Prince now, Katie,” Sienna shouts.
“She was before, idiot,” Whit points out.
“Oh my god,” Sienna huffs before she grabs Whit’s mug of cider and drains it. “Next one goes on your head,” she says sweetly.
Sienna did ten barrels and Whit did one before Aiden banned him on account of the games he has coming up.
“That’s right. You’re a Prince now.” Tristan bends to murmur in my ear, before his lips ghost over my skin. I turn my face and kiss him, and his siblings start to whoop. I break the kiss to laugh into his neck.
Tristan’s eyes are glinting when he pulls away. “In honor of new beginnings, I wanted to bring a new tradition to bonfire night.”
My heart clenches. Tristan told me he was going to do this, and I know he’s nervous. He’s been practicing every night, but I haven’t heard the whole song.
He lifts the blanket off his acoustic guitar and sets it in his lap.
“Someone I love told me to lead with my heart.” He clears his throat. He’s not looking at his siblings. Instead, his head is bowed toward the instrument, where he fiddles with the tuning. “I want to build something for the future, for this family. For all of you.”
He clears his throat again and then strums a chord. His siblings are unusually quiet. No jokes. The air is thick with anticipation.
“God, this is awkward,” he mutters, and the tension dissipates.
He strums another chord, opens his mouth, and my heart seems to pause in my chest. His voice, when he finally sings a line, is low, maybe even hesitant.
Shoulder to shoulder
Across the grass
I want nothing more
Than dreams that last
For our children
Should they come
To love this whiskey
Like we have
The words go straight to my heart, burrow deep into the marrow of my bones. I don’t know what I expected, but not this. Not his rough-tender voice, not the expression of agony on his face. I sit up straighter on the grass.
Tristan is magnetic like this.
He’s not the spare or the charmer or the rebel.
He’s just Tristan. And he’s letting us see it.
For if I go, do not cry
We’ll live on
And dreams don’t die
Shoulder to shoulder
And side by side
For if I love you
There’s no goodbye
I hold my breath it seems, for the whole song, until his fingers scrape the strings and the music cuts off and silence is thick with just the sound of his shallow breaths. He can’t meet my eyes. The guitar makes a hollow, clanking sound as he jars it awkwardly against the grass.
“So that’s it,” he says.
Sienna lets out a sob, then she’s up and stumbling for her brother, pulling him up and hugging him. She cries into his neck, and then Aiden joins, then Whit. Emory and I smile at each other across the grass. I feel like crying too, but happy tears.
It feels like coming home.
“What did Alexis pack us?”
We’re digging into the food after Whit demanded another rendition of the song and claimed he was going to get it tattooed on his chest.
“Hard cider.” Tristan digs around. “Hot chocolate for you.” He holds up a bag of marshmallows. “And all the right accoutrements.” He looks around furtively before he dips a hand into his pocket. “And this.”
He holds out his palm, still closed around whatever it is.
“Alexis packed me whatever is in your hand?”
“No.” His mouth tilts into a small smile, but his gaze is searching mine, like he’s nervous. “I did.” His throat moves in a hard swallow. “I wanted to wait until your birthday, but I couldn’t make it.”
“A t-shirt can’t fit in your hand,” I tease. The tension melts from his shoulders.
“I upped my game this year.”
“I don’t know. A t-shirt’s pretty—oh.” My words stumble, then stick in my throat. Tristan’s hand is open now, and in his palm is a ring. A lovely ring that shines in the firelight.
“It’s an heirloom,” he says gently. “Part of the family. Because I’d really like you to be part of it too.”
“I already said yes, Tristan.” I give him a watery smile. My heart is throbbing so hard in my chest that I think I’m shaking.
He lifts my hand. “I wanted to do it right. Will you marry me, Katie Bailey?”
I nod, smiling and crying at the same time.
He slips the ring on, lifts my face, and kisses me. It’s gentle. Clinging. No tongue. Just the soft graze of his lips and his hand on my jaw that tilts me toward him.
“I love you beyond words,” he says huskily. “Beyond reason.”
“I love you too, Tristan Prince. And I got you something to prove it.”
He barks a surprised laugh when I give him my back and start to shuck the coat I have on. “Bailey, much as I’d like a strip—oh.”
My heart is tripping in my chest. I press a palm to my throat. “Sienna gave it to me,” I say quickly. The jersey is Tristan’s old sailing shirt and on the back is PRINCE in huge block letters. “I didn’t take it.”
“It was meant to be yours,” he says huskily.
“What?” My eyes widen.
“Yours,” he repeats, smiling now. “We were supposed to give the jerseys to a girlfriend. I never gave mine away. I guess Sienna knew that.”
“I wanted to show you how much I want you too.” I look down at the faded jersey and its green and white stripes. “I guess it’s not as good as a ring.”
“You? In my name? It’s better.” His voice is husky. He pulls my hair free of the collar with gentle motions that make fissures open in my chest. “I don’t think I can handle—fuck.”
The curse is muttered before his lips find mine, fumbling briefly in the dark, but good, so good, when we finally connect.
So infinitely right. My hand clutches at his neck, his fingers tighten on my jaw, and I float.
It feels like my body has come free of the earth and Tristan is the only person in the universe.
Until his siblings start whooping, and we both wrench away. I bury my face in my hands.
“Pipe down,” Tristan shouts.
“Your technique needs work,” Whit shouts back.
“Yeah, Tris, you’re trying to kiss her, not reach her stomach with your tongue.”
He’s laughing helplessly now as I moan into my hands.
“We’ll never know a moment of peace,” he says. “Come on.” He hauls me up with one hand, and before I can protest, he crouches and scoops me into his arms.
“See you later, kids,” Emory shouts as Tristan starts to stride through the grass.
I press my face into his shirt and take a deep lungful of his pine and fire scent. “I may never recover.”
“Poor baby,” he says, laughter in his voice. “Let me kiss it and make it better.”
I giggle and rest my head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to carry me. I’m not even wearing heels.”
“Oh, Katie.” There’s a warm press of his lips to my forehead. “Don’t you know that was always just an excuse?”
THE END
Thank you for reading!! I love Tristan and Katie with my whole heart and I hope you did too.