Chapter 28BOONE #2
“I still can’t believe it,” Mom says, glancing at the house again. “You really did it. There’s a whole lot of love in this place.” She nudges my arm with the side of her elbow. “And don’t try to act like there’s not.”
I smile without meaning to. “Did what I could.”
“Lark’s gonna love it.”
“You think?”
She turns to face me. “I know.”
“Who wouldn’t?” she adds, eyes back on the house. “So what, you two makin’ it official?”
I look at her. “What do you mean?”
She gives me a look. “Moving in. Playing house. All this.”
I nod. “Yeah. I want to ask her to marry me.”
She stares at me for a second like she’s making sure I mean it. Then her whole face lights up. “Boone!”
“Not yet,” I say before she gets too far ahead. “I still need to get a ring.”
That doesn’t slow her down. She’s already beaming. “Do you know what she likes?”
I shake my head. “Not really.”
She tilts her head, amused. “Seriously?”
“Miller’s got ideas. She offered to come with me to pick one out.”
Mom raises her eyebrows. “Good. That girl’s got taste.”
“She said if Lark’s gonna wear it forever, it better not be heinous.”
Mom laughs. “That sounds exactly like her.”
After a beat, she glances over at me. “Where’s Lark, anyway?”
“Diner,” I say, tapping my thumb against the thermos. “She opened this morning.”
Mom clicks her tongue. “That girl works like she’s the last one holding up the roof.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “Might not be far off.”
It’s been a couple weeks since she went toe to toe with Tate. She did it. My girl.
She hasn’t let Dawn go yet, but she will.
It’s not hesitation—it’s something closer to grief, I think. Dawn’s been there for years. A fixture, part of the wallpaper in Lark’s life.
Mom’s quiet for a second. Then she says, soft and sure, “For what it’s worth, I love that girl.”
I glance over at her, but she’s still staring straight ahead.
“She’s got a heart like yours,” she goes on. “Big and stubborn. She gives everything she has to the people she loves, even when they don’t deserve it. I’ve considered her part of this family for a long time now, since she was a little girl. You marrying her would just make it official.”
My throat tightens.
“She’s good for you, Boone,” she says, finally looking at me. “But more than that—you’re good for each other. That’s what matters.”
I reach out and pull her into a side hug, wrapping one arm around her shoulders, the thermos still in my other hand. She leans in without hesitation, tucks her head gently against my shoulder like she used to when I was a kid and already taller than her.
I try like hell to blink the burn from my eyes. “Don’t make me cry this early in the morning.”
She gives a little laugh, muffled against my chest. “You always were sentimental.”
“You just told me the woman I love is already your daughter,” I say, pulling back to look at her. “What the hell did you expect me to do with that?”
Her eyes shine, but her smile stays steady. “I expected you to feel it. That’s all.”
I shake my head, the corner of my mouth twitching up. “You’re dangerous when you’re sweet, you know that?”
She pats my chest once, firm and certain. “And don’t you forget it.”
We both turn back toward the house, quiet for a beat.
“Your dad loved her too, you know, even if he never said it out loud. He’d be happy to see her here,” she says softly .
I nod. “Yeah.”
A breeze picks up, brushing through the porch railings, carrying the faint smell of hay and morning dew. She looks at me out of the corner of her eye.
“You know how you’re gonna do it?” she asks. “The proposal? Is Hudson gonna be involved?”
I smile. “Yeah. Me and Hudson got a game plan.”
It’s true. I want him in it—not just as a detail, but as the heart of it. He’s part of her, and she’s the center of everything. He deserves to feel how much that matters. How much he matters.
This isn’t just me asking her to build a life with me—it’s the three of us, building something none of us really had before.
Mom brushes her hands off on her jeans. “Well, if you need help setting anything up—or food, decorations, moral support, whatever—you holler at me. I’d be happy to help.”
I glance at her, smile tugging at my mouth. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Of course,” she says. Then adds, casual as anything, “Also, you need to get moving on more grandchildren.”
I let out a short laugh. “Jesus. That was a sharp left.”
“I’m serious,” she says, pointing a finger at me. “I birthed four children and I’ve got one grandchild. One. That’s a terrible return on investment.”
“I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “Maybe you just peaked early with Hudson.”
She narrows her eyes playfully. “Don’t get smart.”
“I’m just saying, you start adding more grandkids to the mix, they’re gonna have a hell of a time measuring up.”
She shakes her head, but she’s grinning now. “Even if they’re half as great as that boy, I’ll take ‘em.”
“Yeah,” I say a little quieter. “He is pretty great.”
She gives my arm a quick squeeze. “That’s because he’s got you. And her.”
“Thanks for that.”
She gives me one more squeeze. “Alright, I better head back. Got some chocolate chip pancakes to make before Hudson wakes up and starts asking why I’m slacking.”
“I want some.”
She raises a brow, already turning toward the ATV. “Too bad a ranch never quits, Mr. Foreman.”
Then she slaps my shoulder, playful but firm, and I laugh as she heads for the ATV she rode down in. She climbs in, then cranks the engine and throws me a wave as she pulls away.
I stand there for a while, watching the trail settle, thermos still warm in my hand. The house behind me is quiet. Empty, for now.
But not for long.
There’s still work to do—furniture to pick, a ring to buy. A question to ask. But for the first time in a long time, the path in front of me doesn’t feel like something I’ve been shoved down. It feels like something I chose.
It’s strange, the way something can take so long to build and still feel like it showed up all at once. Like I blinked and there it was—this place, this moment, this future I didn’t think I’d get to have.
I used to think coming back home would feel like giving something up. Like slipping into a version of myself I’d tried too hard to outgrow.
But now?
Now it just feels like I was always going to end up here—like every road I took was circling back to this ranch, to him, to her.
It’s not the life I planned. But it sure as hell is the one I want.
And that counts for something.
Maybe it even counts for everything.