Chapter 50 Boone
CHAPTER FIFTY
Boone
I don’t do surprises.
Surprises are for people who have spare time and a nervous system that isn’t wired to plan three steps ahead in case the first two go to hell.
I prefer schedules. Fences you can see. Problems you can fix with your hands.
A grand gesture is… fluff.
And yet…
This is Delaney, and she deserves the world.
So the idea takes hold on a Saturday morning while I’m staring at a stack of feed invoices and Delaney is humming under her breath at the stove, hair pinned up, apron tied around her waist, making our kitchen a whole lot brighter.
Sadie’s sitting at the counter with her coloring book, tongue poking out as she concentrates, and every few seconds she looks up and asks Delaney a bunch of questions.
Delaney answers every one with the sort of warmth only she can find.
I stare at my invoices and realize I’ve made up my mind.
She needs something that can’t be talked away. Something she can see.
Not just the three of us choosing her in private. Not just Sadie.
The town.
Coyote Glen can be a nosy, meddling pain in the ass, but it also does one thing well: it shows up. It claims people. It decides you’re one of theirs, and then you’re stuck with casseroles and opinions forever.
Delaney deserves that kind of stuck.
She deserves to be publicly wanted.
So I do the thing I’m worst at.
I ask for help.
The party planning becomes a multi-day operation, which I hate, because it requires people. And opinions. And texts.
So many damn texts.
Sloane: Boone, I have the BEST idea…
Ivy: Me and Olivia will do what we can, but don’t forget I’m about to burst…
Olivia: My coffee truck can help!
Silas leans over my shoulder, “We’re making Boone give a speech.”
“No,” I say immediately.
“We’re making Boone give a speech,” he repeats, as if he didn’t hear me.
Caleb holds up a hand. “We can keep it short.”
“Or,” I say, “we can keep it nonexistent.”
Sadie overhears from the table where she’s drawing something that appears to be a stick figure wedding.
“I can do the speech!” she declares.
Silas points at her. “Yes. Child-led emotional devastation. Perfect.”
“Not happening,” I say.
Sadie narrows her eyes. “Daddy, you’re being grumpy.”
Caleb, traitor, murmurs, “She’s right.”
I glare at both of them.
Keeping the surprise from Delaney becomes its own rodeo.
Because Delaney isn’t dumb. She notices when people start acting weird. When Silas suddenly becomes suspiciously helpful. When Caleb keeps “accidentally” leaving his phone face up on the counter with texts from Ivy that say things such as what color tablecloths?
And Sadie…
Sadie cannot hold water.
On Wednesday night she follows Delaney around the kitchen as a tiny shadow, giggling to herself.
Delaney squints. “What are you up to?”
Sadie freezes, eyes wide. “Nothing.”
Delaney smiles slowly. “That ‘nothing’ looked suspicious.”
Sadie’s lips press together, fighting a grin. “I can’t tell you.”
Delaney looks up toward the doorway where I’m leaning, arms crossed.
“Boone,” she says, amused and wary. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I say, because I am a liar and bad at it.
Silas appears behind her. “We’re definitely not planning a surprise. That would be illegal.”
Delaney’s eyes narrow. “Silas.”
He holds his hands up. “What? I said definitely.”
Caleb chooses that moment to walk in carrying a ladder, because we’re stringing lights later, and he instantly has the look of a man who wants the floor to swallow him.
Delaney points at the ladder. “Okay. That’s a ladder.”
Caleb pauses, then says, “It’s… for ranch things.”
“Ranch things,” she repeats, deadpan.
Silas nods solemnly. “Ranch things.”
Delaney stares at all three of us, then exhales through her nose. “Whatever you’re doing, I don’t want to know if it’s going to stress me out.”
“It’s not going to stress you out,” I tell her.
She gives me a look. “That’s not a reassuring statement from you.”
Fair.
So I soften my voice. “It’s good. Trust me.”
She hesitates, then nods once, choosing to believe me.
That alone makes my chest tighten.
By Saturday morning, the ranch has the look of a war zone of preparation.
Not the bad kind.
The… festive kind.
String lights are going up between the porch and the big oak by the pasture. There are tables being hauled out.
Mitchell, Timothy, and Freddie arrive first, all tattoos and smug competence. They unload equipment with the efficiency of people who’ve survived Ivy Fletcher’s nesting phase.
Ivy waddles in behind them, pregnant and glowing and terrifyingly energetic. Pickle, the French bulldog, is under her arm, snorting judgment.
“Boone!” Ivy calls. “Where’s my girl?”
“She’s out for the morning, busy in town,” I answer. “And she doesn’t know.”
Ivy’s grin turns feral. “Perfect.”
Olivia shows up with Jesse and the other firefighters, and the moment Jesse steps onto the property, he starts bossing people around as if it’s a fire scene.
“Okay, listen up! Lights go there. Food goes there. No one trips over a cord and dies, because I’m off duty and I will not do CPR at a party.”
Leo and Karl roll their eyes and keep hauling things. Olivia hugs Sadie, then hugs me, then gives me a look that says she understands more than I’m comfortable with.
“You did good,” she murmurs.
I grunt. “We’ll see.”
Sloane arrives last with Wild Reverie, and suddenly, the ranch gets louder. Not in a bad way. In a celebrity band just showed up in your yard way.
Roman claps me on the shoulder. “Boone. Man. This is solid.”
Creed nods once respectfully, and Ezra gives me a small, quiet wave, saving his energy for the stage.
Silas goes straight to Roman. “You brought guitars.”
Roman grins. “We brought everything.”
I glance toward the back of the truck where they’ve unloaded sound equipment, and my stomach drops a little.
“What’s ‘everything’?” I ask.
Sloane’s smile is too bright. “A short set. Just a few songs. Nothing crazy. I did tell you I had a good idea, and when you didn’t respond, I took it as a yes.”
I roll my eyes. I have too much to do to argue this.
Tables get covered. Ivy sets up a dessert station as a military operation. Olivia arranges flowers. Sloane strings lanterns. Caleb checks cords and stability as if someone might die if a centerpiece falls over.
Silas tries to hang a banner Sadie made that says:
WELCOME DELA…NE
(with a sticker over the missing Y)
I stare at it.
“Sadie,” I say slowly. “Why is there a sticker?”
She grins. “Because I ran out of space.”
Silas slaps a hand to his chest. “It’s art.”
“It’s crooked,” Caleb points out.
“It’s expressive,” Silas counters.
I let them fight and go check the perimeter, because that’s what I do when I’m nervous.
Then Silas runs up to me, eyes wide.
“She’s coming.”
My stomach flips. I’m sixteen again and about to get caught doing something stupid.
“Positions,” Ivy calls out.
I don’t even question it. I just move.
We line up near the porch. Sadie bounces in front, practically vibrating out of her boots. Caleb stands slightly behind me, steady. Silas is beside him, grinning, about to detonate.
The truck comes up the drive.
Delaney steps out with grocery bags in her arms.
And stops.
Because the ranch looks… amazing.
Lights. Tables. People.
Music humming low from the speakers. The smell of grilled food and fresh bread in the air. Voices. Laughter.
Her eyes widen.
Her breath catches.
She looks down at the bags in her arms as if she might’ve walked into the wrong timeline.
Then she looks at me.
“What…” she starts. “What is this?”
Sadie doesn’t let her drown in confusion.
She sprints forward and grabs Delaney’s hand, tugging her toward the porch, bringing her home.
“It’s for you!” Sadie announces, loud enough that the whole damn ranch hears. “It’s your welcome!”
Delaney stares at her. “My—”
“Welcome party,” Silas supplies, smug.
Delaney’s gaze flicks to him, then to Caleb, then back to me, trying to find the trick.
“I thought we were having dinner,” she says softly.
“We are,” I tell her. “But… more.”
She swallows, eyes shining already.
I step closer so she can hear me without all the noise. “I wanted you to see it,” I say. “That you’re not just working here. You’re not just… passing through.”
Her throat works. “Boone…”
I don’t give a speech. I can’t. Not with her looking at me in that way.
So I keep it simple.
“This town can be loud,” I say. “And nosy. And a pain in the ass.”
A weak smile tugs at her mouth.
“But when it decides you’re one of ours,” I continue, “it shows up. I wanted you to have that.”
Her eyes go wet fast.
Behind her, Ivy calls out, “Delaney! Honey!”
Olivia waves, and Sloane’s already crying.
The ranch hands cheer.
Delaney’s face crumples.
She tries to smile through it. Tries to hold it in. She’s afraid that being too much will make people regret showing up.
But she doesn’t get to.
Because Sadie throws her arms around Delaney’s waist and squeezes, anchoring her.
Delaney drops the grocery bags and covers her mouth.
A sob breaks out of her, raw and startled. She wasn’t expecting happiness to hit this hard.
My chest tightens.
For one terrible second, I worry we overwhelmed her.
Then she laughs through the tears, breathless and disbelieving.
“This is…” she chokes. “This is too much.”
“It’s exactly enough,” I say, and I mean it.
Her eyes lock with mine before she steps into me and wraps her arms around my middle.
I rest my hand on the back of her head, fingers sinking into her hair.
“You’re safe,” I murmur.
“I know,” she whispers back. “I know. I just… I didn’t think I’d ever have this.”
I don’t trust my voice, so I just hold her.
Silas makes a choking sound behind us. “Okay. I’m gonna pretend I have allergies.”
Caleb mutters, “You do. To sincerity.”
“Shut up,” Silas whispers back.
Delaney pulls away, wiping at her cheeks, trying to get control of herself. She turns slowly, looking at the tables, the lights, the people.
She’s seeing a different life than the one she thought she deserved.
Ivy approaches first, arms open. “Come here, sweetheart.”
Delaney goes into her hug, and Ivy squeezes her tight.
“You did good,” Ivy tells her fiercely. “You’re ours now.”
Olivia hugs her next, gentler but just as sure.
“Welcome home,” she whispers.
Sloane hugs her and fully sobs into Delaney’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, I can’t stop,” she wails.
Delaney laughs again through tears.
“It’s okay,” she manages. “It’s kind of… perfect.”
Roman steps forward with a guitar, mic in hand, grin easy.
“Alright, Coyote Glen,” he says, voice carrying. “We heard we’re welcoming someone important.”
The crowd cheers.
Delaney freezes. “Oh my goodness, you let Wild Reverie loose?”
All I can do is laugh and offer her a one-shouldered shrug. “Seems like it.”
As the band starts playing, I’m overcome with a sense that this isn’t just the party starting, but in a way, my life as well.