Chapter 88
CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
Ace
Every single morning since the scan last week, I wake up and hold the image in one hand, the other on her growing bump. And I thank whoever is up there for letting me live.
Someone has to be lookin' out for me to give me this. Everything I've ever wanted, right beside me in my bed, in my house, on my family's land.
And now I get it. Why Mom and Dad were so protective of us boys. I feel it already for my little girl. I'd die for her all over again.
I'm counting down the days until I can hold her in my arms.
There's one more thing I need to do to make everything align perfectly. To start the rest of our lives off the right way.
I meant it when I said there is no end to us.
I spot Violet's dark hair through the window, followed by Jett's hat, and I walk as fast as my body will let me to the door. Harper's upstairs having a bath, so I'm safe for a while.
I swing open the door. Violet grins at me, hands on her bump. And we all know about it, she's got everyone on this ranch running around, especially Jett.
And Lola is about to pop any day now. Just waiting for the moment. I can't wait to meet her new baby girl. I can't wait for all our kids to grow up here just like we did. A new era of Sterlings, although the women are going to outweigh the men soon.
With the Greeks basically gone and our hold here secure, I think we can finally breathe easy.
Well... until Colten has to marry Gianna. She saved us. But, I don’t trust her family.
"It's all set," V whispers.
"Thank you."
"You nervous?" Jett asks.
"No," I say. But I mean yes.
I've got every moment planned. As perfect as I could figure for her. Everything I can do to give her the best life. To give both my girls the best life.
"Well, good luck." Violet links her arm through Jett's.
For friends, they sure as hell behave like a married couple. They both swear it's not that. I don't argue. I think they'd be perfect for each other.
"Have you seen Colt?" I ask Jett.
He sighs. "Spent most of this week in his animal center, Ace."
I nod. I know what that means. Whenever Colten has a crisis, he pulls away from everyone.
After Mom died, I didn't see him for weeks.
After Dad—that's when he set up the animal center, where he takes in injured or recovering animals.
Wild and not. He'd rather sit with a busted-up hawk than talk about his feelings.
And right now, my brother's been traded into a marriage to save my life, so I figure he's got a barn full of animals hearing all about it.
I owe him everything. And I don't have the first clue how to repay my debt.
One thing at a time.
"Wish me luck," I say.
Jett tips his hat. "You don't need luck. She's been yours since the tenth grade, you idiot."
* * *
An hour later, Harper's in the passenger seat of my truck, hair still damp from the bath, wearing my hat because she stole it off the hook on the way out the door. The way she always does.
And I’m allowed to drive on the ranch. Her rules. Anywhere outside of here, I’m banned.
"Where are we going?" she asks for the fourth time.
"You'll see."
"Ace."
"Harper."
"You know I hate surprises."
"You love surprises. You hate waiting for them. Different thing."
She huffs and rests her hands on her bump, and I drive us out across the east side of the property as the sun starts dropping.
Golden hour. The whole ranch is glowing.
I take the track that winds up toward the ridge, not just any ridge, our ridge, and I watch her clock where we are. Watch the smile start.
Then we come around the bend, and she sees it.
The foundations.
Concrete poured and cured, footings laid out across the flat stretch of land facing east. Timber stacked and waiting. String lines marking out rooms that don't exist yet. And at the front, framed up first because I told the crew it mattered most—the skeleton of a wrap-around porch.
This is the home I always promised her.
She goes completely still.
"Ace," she whispers. "What is this?"
I park. Walk around. Open her door and help her down, her hand in mine.
"This," I say, "is the kitchen. Big windows, facing the sunrise, 'cause you like your coffee with a view.
" I walk her along the string lines. "This is the living room.
Fireplace there. This is April's room—closest to ours, for now, till she's older and wants to be further from her embarrassing parents. "
Harper's hand is over her mouth.
"And this whole stretch here—" I lead her to the framed porch. "—is the wrap-around. Porch swing goes right there. Facing east. So the sunrise wakes us up."
"You remembered everything," she breathes. "Every word."
"Goldie, I've been building this house in my head since I was eighteen. The crew's just catching up."
She's crying now. Happy crying—I've learned the difference this year. I tip my head toward the paddock fence beyond the foundations.
"One more thing."
Seven is standing at the rail, ears pricked, watching us like the nosy old man he is. And beside him—a mare with a beautiful Palomino coat.
Harper grips my arm. "Ace, who is she?"
"She’s yours."
"Mine? But Penny—"
"Penny's Wyatt's now, and we both know she'd never forgive either of us if we broke that boy's heart. This ain't a replacement, baby. This is something new. Something that's just yours. For the new life. The new house. The new everything."
She walks to the fence slowly, the mare comes straight to her—of course, she does, everything comes straight to Harper—and pushes her nose into Harper's hands. They were meant to be.
"She's beautiful," Harper whispers. "What's her name?"
"That's your job. You're good at naming things. April Harriet's proof."
She laughs through the tears, stroking the mare's neck, the sun setting gold behind her, my hat on her head, my baby in her belly, standing on the land where our house is rising out of the dirt.
“Well, we both chose her name.”
My heart is thrashing like I'm in the chute. Gate about to swing. Eight seconds from everything.
The ring box in my pocket weighs about four thousand pounds.
I've had the speech memorized for two weeks. Even practiced it on Seven. And then on Jett, who cried. My last resort was the bathroom mirror. Every word perfect.
I reach into my pocket.
And I get down on one knee.