Chapter 58
Fable
Six Months Later
“I can’t believe you’re actually moving into my old little guesthouse,” I said, hauling a plastic bin out of Harleigh’s truck and into the familiar space.
“When Kline asked me, I figured it was about time to get out of Dad’s house. Plus, it means we’ll be neighbors.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Can’t argue with that.”
Harleigh gazed out over the land toward the porch of my new house. The barn expansion was coming along, slowly but surely, to make room for more livestock, but for the time being, it was just Ginger out there, grazing under the setting sun.
I glanced down at the wooden planks beneath my feet, and for a brief moment, the memory of Mike standing here—demanding, pulling, trying to drag me back into his world—flashed through my mind.
I exhaled, shaking it off. “Hard to believe it’s been half a year since all that happened,” I murmured. “And the new circuit is about to start.”
“I can’t believe we’ve increased Kline’s sales by eighty percent,” Harleigh added.
I chuckled. “That too.”
Earlier in the day, we had our review with Kline.
Technically, it marked the end of our contract, but neither Harleigh nor I was worried about losing our jobs and not having our contract extended.
The Twisted Spur’s bulls had gone viral on social media this week after we posted a meme warning people about flu season—featuring a bunch of snotty, booger-covered bulls.
She studied me for a long moment before a small smile tugged at her lips. “You know, you’re different.”
I raised a brow. “Yeah?”
“There’s a lightness to you. You don’t even wash your hands the second you step into the office anymore.”
Therapy had helped. Healing helped. It had been slow, frustrating at times, but the changes had crept in. The grip my fears once had on me was loosening.
I exhaled, glancing out over the land. “Life out here is nice. Every evening, I sit with Beau on the porch, and we watch the stars. We rarely turn on the television because we’re always busy.” A soft chuckle slipped out. “I live on a ranch, for God’s sake.”
Harleigh laughed, shaking her head. “Can you believe that? You—a year ago, you couldn’t even step into the arena at the first bull riding event.”
I swallowed hard. I remembered.
I’d always remember. That moment, that fear. But more importantly, the journey since.
I wasn’t always home because I still traveled with Kline.
Since Beau was in retirement, we were preparing to buy a couple of Kline’s bulls—an investment in our future.
Beau had an official job working with the bulls on the ranch, which meant we were together often, but even when he wasn’t with me, I was still healing.
Life was messy. It was different.
Harleigh smiled as we started walking back toward the house. My house. Beau’s house.
Our house.
Wow.
I chuckled to myself as we stepped through the field that connected the two properties.
“You know,” she murmured, nudging me gently with her shoulder, “if I could go back a year and show that version of you this—your home, your happiness, the way you’ve healed—I don’t think she’d believe it.”
I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat.
“You left Mike. You moved on. You faced things that used to paralyze you. Your OCD doesn’t own you anymore.
You still fight it, but I see you. You’re here.
Living. Healing. Loving.” She exhaled, blinking quickly, and I could tell she was trying not to get emotional. “I’m . . . fucking proud of you.”
I bit my lip, warmth blooming in my chest, my fingers flexing at my sides. “Healing’s hard,” I admitted. “I work at it every day. Some days are easier than others, some days I backslide, but . . . it’s helped.”
Harleigh squeezed my arm. “You deserve it.”
I let out a breath, my lips curving into a small smile.
As we neared the house, Harleigh suddenly veered toward the barn instead of heading straight up the porch steps.
I frowned. “Why are we going through the barn?”
She smirked. “Come on.”
The barn was still under construction for the expansion—we needed the extra space for the new bulls—but it was still livable for Ginger.
Harleigh pulled open the barn door and gestured for me to step inside.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “What are you up to?”
She grinned. “You’ll see.”
The barn smelled of fresh hay and wood shavings.
My boots scuffed against the floor as I stepped inside, and standing in the middle of the barn, tied loosely to a post, was the most beautiful black horse I had ever seen.
Her coat gleamed, the exact color of Harleigh’s hair.
Her ears perked up at my presence, and as soon as she noticed me, she let out a soft, welcoming neigh.
I inhaled sharply. “Hey, pretty girl,” I murmured, taking a hesitant step forward before stopping myself.
I was working on healing, working on trusting, but stepping up to a new animal, one I didn’t know, was something I struggled with.
Still, my heart hammered in my chest, something warm unfurling inside me.
That’s when I noticed it—something tied around her neck. A thick rope looped loosely, and at the end of it, a small, square box dangled against her sleek coat.
I frowned. “What do you have there?”
“Go check it out,” came Beau’s deep drawl.
I turned, and there he was.
His favorite pearl snap shirt stretched across his broad chest, tucked into a pair of worn jeans that fit him perfectly. His black cowboy hat sat low on his head, casting a shadow over his sharp jaw, and at his waist, the biggest gold belt buckle I’d ever seen.
I raised a brow. “Why are you so dressed up?”
“Let me help you.” He chuckled. “Hey, sweet girl.”
I watched as she leaned into him, his voice soft, coaxing, like he was introducing me to an old friend.
“This is Wrigley.”
I blinked, then laughed, shaking my head. “Like the arena in Chicago where I used to live?”
“Exactly.” He grinned. “She’s a little old, but the best lady you could ever ask for. Super gentle.”
“Why is she here?”
“She’s yours.”
My heart stopped. “Mine?”
His grin widened, his hands still stroking down Wrigley’s strong neck. “Yours.”
I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth as I stared at him. My knees nearly buckled from the sheer shock of it.
“You . . . you got me a horse?”
“Cowgirl, you live on a ranch now. Figured it was about time you had one of your own.” Beau smirked. “Let me help you get closer.”
My protector.
As I healed, he had promised to give me a safe space, to stand beside me, to protect me, but not in the way Mike ever had. Not with force, not with control, but with love. With patience. With the kind of devotion that made me want to be a better version of myself—not for him, but for me.
I nodded, swallowing hard, letting him guide my hand as he had the first time I met Ginger. His strong hand covered mine, his chest pressing into my back as he led me closer, letting my fingers brush over Wrigley’s soft fur.
The moment I made contact, she nuzzled her nose into me, and I laughed, the sound bubbling out of me before I could stop it.
“Good girl,” I murmured, stroking her gently.
Beau leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear. “Hey, that’s my line.”
I snorted. “Perv.”
His chest rumbled with laughter, but his hand stayed firm, guiding me toward the little box hanging from the rope around Wrigley’s neck.
“What is this?” I asked, picking it up carefully.
His hands covered mine, gently freeing the box from the rope.
He pulled away.
I looked over my shoulder but turned fully as he cracked the box open and dropped to one knee.
A beautiful ring sat nestled inside, glinting under the barn lights, and Beau’s eyes locked onto mine with that same intensity and certainty he always carried when it came to me.
“Fable Morris,” he murmured, “will you do me the honor of being mine . . . forever?”
My vision blurred as tears spilled down my cheeks.
“What?” I gasped, shaking my head.
This wasn’t what I was expecting. I wasn’t ready for this—I wasn’t even dressed for this. I was standing here in jeans and my favorite hot pink button-down work shirt, dust still on my boots.
“Now?” I choked out.
Beau laughed, his broad shoulders shaking as he squeezed my hand. “Baby, I’d marry you today if you’d let me.” His voice softened. “But whenever you’re ready.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered, more tears falling, my whole body trembling as I dropped to my knees in front of him, meeting him at his level.
“Of course I will, Beaudreau Banks.”
His breath hitched, his hand trembling slightly as he reached for me.
“I love you,” I murmured, cupping his cheek, my thumb brushing over his scruff before I kissed him—deep, slow, full of every emotion I didn’t have words for.
He kissed me back just as fiercely, his grip tightening, his body warm and solid against mine.
Slowly, he pulled away, pressing one last kiss to my forehead before slipping the ring onto my finger.
All I could do was stare at it.
Beau grinned, his eyes soft, filled with something so deep it made my chest ache.
“Now you’re mine, Cowgirl.”
The second Beau slid the ring onto my finger, a loud chorus of voices rang out—
“Surprise!”
Wrigley neighed, shaking her head as our family and friends rounded the corner, filling the barn with cheers and laughter.
My eyes widened as I took them all in—Dalton, Gatlin, Harleigh, her dad, Kline, Maribel . . . everyone we loved was here. Even Nance from the coffee shop stood off to the side with Brooke from The Dive.
The first person to reach us was Beau’s dad. His rough, calloused hands gripped my shoulders as he pulled me in for a tight hug.
“I’m proud of both of you.”
Emotion clogged my throat as I hugged him back, Beau’s strong hand never leaving my waist.
Beau leaned in, his voice a soft command in my ear. “Come on, baby.”
He guided me out the barn doors and around the back, and my breath hitched at the sight before me.
A full-blown celebration.
Picnic tables covered in white and red checkered tablecloths stretched across the yard, fairy lights strung between the fence posts. A smoker sat in the corner, the scent of BBQ thick in the air. Beer coolers lined the tables, and the entire damn town looked like they had shown up.
My heart swelled, my fingers tightening around Beau’s.
“This is for us?” I whispered, still in shock.
Beau grinned, tugging me closer. “Of course.”
Before I could say another word, he kissed my cheek, his lips lingering as more people rushed forward to congratulate us, to hug us, to celebrate this moment right alongside us.
I laughed, shaking my head as tears pricked at my eyes again.
This was home.
Because a year ago, I was still running.
From the past. From the truth. From the things I didn’t want to face, the things that controlled me more than I ever realized.
Anxiety and OCD had gripped me so tightly for so long that I thought it was who I was. That I had to live within the walls my mind built for me. That my life would always be limited.
Healing—real healing—meant leaving what was comfortable.
It meant looking in the mirror and telling the truth, not just to the person I loved, but to myself. It meant setting myself free before someone else could do it for me.
And when I finally did?
When I let go of the things I thought I needed to survive and started following the journey instead of fighting it?
It led me here.
To a place I never imagined I’d belong.
A city girl in a small town.
A girl who once hated dirt and feared it, standing in a field, watching the sun set over a ranch she was building with the love of her life.
A woman who once thought she was too broken to be loved—learning that love had never been about being perfect.
It had always been about choosing each other, over and over again.
As I stood there, wrapped in Beau’s arms, surrounded by the warmth of people who had become my family, something settled deep inside me. Not an epiphany, not some grand, earth-shattering realization—a quiet, steady knowing.
I wasn’t running anymore.
I wasn’t gripping so tightly onto the things I thought kept me safe.
I had let go.
In that space, in the uncertainty, in the messiness of healing and love and choosing to be here, I had found something better than control.
I had found peace.
Not the kind that came from everything being perfect, but the kind that came from knowing that even when it wasn’t, I wasn’t alone.
Heck, maybe that was the point all along.
“I used to be terrified of losing you,” Beau admitted. My glazed eyes snapped up to his. “The way I lost my mom, the way my dad lost himself after she was gone. I thought if I held on too tight, if I let myself love you too much, you’d slip right through my fingers.”
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around his as I remembered what we’d gone through.
“I didn’t lose you,” he continued, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “I gained everything. A whole new life. A future. Us.”
“Then let’s hold on, bull rider.” I leaned in, my lips brushing against his, my voice a whisper.
“Because the best rides don’t last eight seconds—they last a lifetime.”