Chapter 26
twenty-six
The fire pit crackled and popped as Johanna added another log, sending sparks spiraling up into the clear night sky.
New Year’s Eve at Valor Ridge looked exactly as she’d pictured it when they planned this gathering three days ago.
Five chairs circled around the flames, everyone bundled against the Montana cold, breath clouding in front of their faces.
Above them, stars filled the sky, bright pinpricks against endless black, no city lights to dim their glow.
The dogs lay at their feet—Cowboy alert beside Walker and Bishop pressed against Boone’s leg.
Johanna settled back into her chair, pulling her new blue scarf tighter around her neck. Walker sat to her right, close enough that she felt the shift in the air when he moved. The firelight caught in his eyes when he looked her way, blue turned amber in the glow.
“Ten minutes till midnight,” Boone announced, checking his watch. “Another year gone.”
“Good riddance,” River said, but his voice lacked the brittle edge it had carried for so long. He sat with his legs stretched toward the fire.
Johanna studied River over the rim of her mug of cider. The change in him since Christmas was subtle but real. He still cracked jokes, still fidgeted, still talked too fast sometimes. But the desperate energy had calmed. He no longer seemed ready to shatter at any moment.
“You don’t mean that,” Jonah said. “This year brought you here.”
River’s mouth quirked into a half-smile. “True. The ending’s not bad.” He raised his mug toward the center of their circle. “To Valor Ridge, home of second chances and questionable Christmas decorations.”
“To Valor Ridge,” they echoed, mugs clinking in the firelight.
“Guess I’ve got you to thank, Doc,” River continued, his eyes finding Johanna’s across the flames. “For not giving up on me when I was being a complete ass.”
She felt her cheeks warm, and not just from the fire. “You did the work, River.”
“Yeah, but you sat on that cold garage floor for hours.” He shrugged, eyes dropping to his mug. “Nobody’s done that for me before. Just... waited.”
The admission hung in the night air, honest in a way River rarely allowed himself to be. Boone cleared his throat, uncomfortable as always with raw emotion.
“Speaking of work,” Boone said, “we should talk about expanding the dog training program. Got a call from the VA hospital in Missoula today. They’re interested in what we’re doing.”
“Already on it,” Jonah replied, sitting up straighter. “I’ve drafted a proposal for a formal K9 therapy program. Spreadsheets, budgets, the works.”
Johanna smiled to herself as they launched into ranch business, Jonah’s enthusiasm spilling out in rapid-fire ideas while Boone occasionally grunted approval.
Beside her, Walker watched them, pride softening the lines around his eyes.
His vision for Valor Ridge was taking shape, brick by brick, man by man.
“What about you, Jo?” River asked suddenly, cutting into her thoughts. “Got any New Year’s resolutions?”
She took a sip of cider, buying time. “Nothing formal.”
“Come on,” River pressed. “Everyone’s got something they want to change.”
Her eyes flicked to Walker before she could stop them. He was watching her, waiting for her answer, his face unreadable in the shifting light.
“I want to be braver,” she admitted finally. “Stop letting fear make my decisions.”
Walker’s hand twitched on the armrest between them, so close to hers that she felt the movement rather than saw it.
“That’s a good one,” River nodded, his gaze bouncing between her and Walker. “Speaking of brave...” He set his mug down, leaning forward. “So are you two just gonna stare at each other forever or what?”
The question hit like cold water. Johanna froze, mug halfway to her lips. Beside her, Walker went completely still.
“What?” Walker’s voice came out rough.
“You heard me.” River’s tone was casual, but his eyes were serious. “Come on. We all know. Boone and Jonah probably have a bet going.”
“We do,” Jonah admitted cheerfully and took a drink of his cider.
“How much?” River asked, interested.
“Twenty bucks on...” He trailed off, catching Walker’s glare.
Boone shrugged, unrepentant.
Johanna’s face burned. She stared at the fire, unable to look at any of them. Particularly Walker. The air between them felt charged, heavy with possibilities and fears she’d carried for years.
“Life’s short,” River continued, his voice softening. “Stop wasting time.”
He stood, brushing pine needles from his jeans. “Come on, guys. Let’s give them some space.”
Boone and Jonah exchanged glances, then rose from their chairs.
“Two minutes till midnight,” Boone said, checking his watch again. “Just enough time for us to grab more cider.” He tilted his head toward the house, giving River a pointed look.
“And to place new bets,” River added with a grin that was almost like his old self. “I’ve got five on a full-blown makeout session before the clock strikes twelve.”
“River,” Walker growled, but there was no real heat in it.
River held up his hands, backing away. “Fine, fine. We’re going. Happy New Year, you stubborn idiots.”
The three men trudged toward the bunkhouse, their footsteps crunching on the snow. Bishop hesitated, looking from Boone to Walker and back again before following his person.
Only Cowboy remained, sitting sphinx-like at Walker’s feet, watching them both with intelligent eyes.
And then they were alone, just them and the crackling fire, with the vast Montana night sky spread above them and five years of guilt, three years of longing, and countless almost-moments stretching between them.
She didn’t dare look at him. Didn’t trust what might happen if she did.
“So,” Walker said, his voice barely audible over the fire. “That happened.”
A small laugh escaped her, tension breaking just enough to let her breathe again. “It was bound to eventually.”
“Johanna.” Her name in his mouth, low and certain, sent warmth curling through her chest that had nothing to do with the fire.
Snow began to fall, soft flakes drifting down through the still air, catching the firelight as they descended.
The world went quiet, as if holding its breath.
She stared into the flames, heart hammering against her ribs.
The snow fell silently around them, flakes melting as they hit the heated air near the fire.
She felt Walker’s eyes on her but couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.
Five years since Nick's death. Three more years of working side by side at Valor Ridge, of lingering glances and conversations that always stopped short of what they really wanted to say. Of New Year’s Eve on this same porch, when they’d almost crossed that line.
Of Christmas Eve in his kitchen, flour on her hands and his name caught in her throat.
All of it leading to this moment, when there was nowhere left to hide.
Cowboy shifted at Walker’s feet, his tail sweeping a small arc in the snow. In the distance, she heard laughter from inside the house. River’s voice carried through an open window, followed by Boone’s deeper rumble.
“He’s right,” Walker said finally, breaking the silence. “I’ve been a coward.”
Johanna risked a glance at him. He wasn’t looking at her anymore, but at the fire, the flames reflected in his eyes. His profile was sharp against the night sky, jaw tight, shoulders rigid beneath his heavy coat.
“We both have,” she admitted, her voice barely audible over the crackling wood.
Walker turned to her fully then, his chair creaking as he shifted.
“I’ve known how I felt about you for years, Jo.
Been carrying it around like some secret I didn’t dare speak out loud.
” His hands gripped the armrests, knuckles white.
“Telling myself it was respect for your boundaries. For what you needed.” He shook his head.
“But that was just an excuse. Truth is, I was scared.”
The raw honesty in his voice made her throat tighten.
This was Walker Nash, the man who had faced down warlords and prison guards and his own demons.
Who never backed down from a fight. Who carried the weight of every broken man at Valor Ridge on his shoulders.
And he was afraid of this, of her, of what lay between them.
Just like she was afraid of him.
“I know,” she said softly. “I was scared, too, but I’m not anymore.”
Then she leaned forward and kissed him.
Eight years.
Eight years of wanting and waiting and telling herself it could never happen.
Eight years since she’d first looked at Walker Nash and felt that jolt of recognition deep in her chest. Their first kiss on New Year’s Eve had been awkward, rushed, a fumbling collision.
This was different. This was coming home.
His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing away a tear she hadn’t realized she’d shed.
His lips were cold at first, then warm, soft against hers.
She tasted cider and smoke and something that was uniquely him.
Her fingers curled into the front of his jacket, anchoring herself as everything else seemed to fall away.
When they finally broke apart, she found herself half out of her chair, practically in his lap. Cowboy had retreated a few feet to give them space, watching with what looked suspiciously like canine approval.
A laugh bubbled up from her chest, part joy, part disbelief. “That was... better than last time.”
Walker laughed too, his forehead resting against hers. “Definitely better.” His thumb traced the curve of her cheek, reverent, as if memorizing her features by touch. “Worth the wait.”
“Was it?” she asked, suddenly serious. “All those years we wasted—”
“Weren’t wasted,” he interrupted gently. “We weren’t ready then. I wasn’t ready.” His eyes held hers. “You needed time. I needed to find my way back from what happened with Nick.”
The name that had stood between them for so long didn’t sting the way it once had. Nick would always be part of her story, part of what had led her to Valor Ridge, to Walker. But he wasn’t a barrier anymore. Just a chapter that had closed, making room for a new one to begin.
“We should’ve listened to River sooner,” she said, smiling through her tears.
Walker snorted, his arms tightening around her. “Don’t tell him that. His ego can’t handle it.”
She laughed, burying her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of him. Woodsmoke, soap, leather. Familiar and new at the same time. His heartbeat steady under her palm.
From inside the house came a chorus of cheers. Midnight. The New Year had arrived while they weren’t paying attention.
Walker pulled back slightly to look at her, his eyes reflecting the firelight and something else, something warm and private meant only for her. “Happy New Year, Jo.” His voice was rough around the edges.
“Happy New Year, Walker.”
He stood, pulling her up with him. Cowboy rose too, shaking snow from his coat.
“It’s cold out here,” Walker said, his hand finding hers. His fingers were warm despite the winter air. “Come inside with me?”