Chapter Fourteen
The Bennet Ranch
Aly woke up to the strange feeling of a warm body next to her—strange because Landon was usually up and doing chores when she woke up. She could count on one hand the times she’d woken up to him still in bed since they’d started sharing one.
But today she got to snuggle into his little cocoon of warmth, and his arms came around her.
Her grin nearly split her face. “We’re getting married today.” It seemed impossible, and as much as giddy happiness made her nervous—because what good had ever come without a hell of a lot of bad?—she was going to lean into the giddy on her wedding day.
His grip tightened and Aly wriggled closer.
Married. It was such a funny thing—they already shared everything—a house, a ranch, a bed.
Marriage wouldn’t change much. Even promising to love each other forever wasn’t different.
They were the forever sort. It was essentially a piece of paper, she knew. Literally.
But it was also a symbol of something more, and she supposed another step toward the next step and the next. They’d talked about having kids—sooner rather than later.
She’d never had a mother, unless Mrs. Bennet counted, which in a way, she supposed she had. After her own mom had taken off when she’d been a baby, it had just been Aly and her father and the kind, mothering influence of Mrs. Bennet.
Aly wanted to be that for someone. She wanted to watch Landon be a father—she knew he’d be a good one. Not just because he had an example of what not to do either. But because he was a good man, with more love to give than he probably realized.
She wanted a family that extended beyond the tentative one they were making with Landon’s brothers. She happened to think it would be good for every last one of them to have that. To be that.
But first, she was getting married today, and nothing could make her happier than that.
“We’ve got another two hours before people start arriving to get set up.” His mouth trailed down her neck, and she laughed a little breathlessly.
Tempting, but there was so much to do, and that was what the wedding night was for, wasn’t it? They were actually going to go stay at a resort outside of Bozeman for the weekend. A mini-honeymoon, Landon had called it.
Just a weekend, but Aly only needed a weekend. One weekend of a little different special, but the most important thing was all the regular nights, right here, in the place they both loved.
Maybe they’d go somewhere farther away for longer in October, but maybe they wouldn’t. Aly didn’t care either way.
This, right here, was what she wanted. But … there was a lot to do before people started showing up to prepare for the wedding. She gave Landon a little ineffective push away.
“I should go make some breakfast and—”
Landon rolled on top of her. “You’re not lifting a finger today. That’s everyone else’s job.” Then he pinned her to the mattress like he’d physically stop her from trying. “You are the bride. It’s your day.”
She wrinkled her nose. “But I hate not doing things.”
He chuckled, then pressed a kiss to her mouth. Sweet, simple. Then he just stared down at her for a few moments, his dark eyes growing serious.
“Last chance to back out.”
She knew he was joking—mostly joking—but she could see there was a small part of him, minuscule really, that thought she deserved an out.
She studied his face seriously. He still had her arms pinned, so she lifted her mouth to his. Pressed a gentle kiss to it.
“I’ll never back out, Landon. We both know life doesn’t play fair, and we can’t control anything, but I can and will control this. I’ll never back out.” And she meant it. With all she was. “And neither will you.” She had no doubts on that score.
“Neither will I,” he repeated, a vow just as good as any they would exchange this afternoon. “I love you, Aly.”
“I love you too.” And that was what they’d always hold onto.
*
Landon couldn’t have explained why the hell he was nervous. It was a small wedding on the ranch. As much as he didn’t really like performing for anyone, the crowd would hardly be a big one. His brothers, his ranch hands, Jill and Glenda, and … Sam Price. Nothing to be uptight about.
He didn’t have any nerves or doubts about marrying Aly. Maybe every once in a while he figured she deserved better than some taciturn asshole, but he was less of an asshole these days.
He really tried to be.
And she seemed to want him, whether she deserved better or not. So he’d work to be better, and if there was one thing Landon knew he was good at, it was putting in the hard work, and stubbornly moving forward doing what he thought was right.
But he felt that a lot stronger when she was right here, not off with Jill and Glenda getting dressed.
He liked it better when he wasn’t being choked by a button-up shirt and a suit jacket with his brothers watching him with faint amusement in their identical eyes.
He stared at himself in the mirror, in his new, stuffy suit and the tie that felt like it was choking him. Freshly shaved, he wasn’t sure he even recognized himself.
“I can step in for you if you’re too nervous,” Cal offered blandly, looking as he always did in a suit. At ease and like a success.
“Bite me,” Landon muttered, straightening his tie in the mirror. Again. “It’s not nerves. It’s … discomfort. Fucking tie.”
“If you say so,” Cal replied, a bit jovially. But he’d turned his attention to Nate, lounging in the chair in the living room. “You’re awfully quiet. Is it all feeling a bit impending doom for you?”
Nate lifted his gaze to Cal’s, in that blank, military way he had. But there wasn’t that bleakness behind it there sometimes was.
Landon figured Nate had learned how to use his blank like a weapon. Particularly against Cal who didn’t know what to do if someone didn’t have a sore spot for him to exploit.
“You know, you could just be happy for him instead of trying to find someone to piss off,” Nate said equitably.
Ostensibly shutting Cal up.
Landon smiled in spite of himself. That wasn’t something he thought he’d be doing in either of his brother’s presences a year ago, let alone both of them.
Sometimes it felt like a bit of a curse, but today it felt like a miracle. Maybe everything around marrying Aly felt like a miracle. Maybe that meant it was his turn to make some people uncomfortable.
He turned to face his brothers. “I’m glad you’re both here.”
Cal snorted. “Liar.”
Landon shook his head. “No. Not lying. I’m glad you’re here. It’s a symbol. It means something. That we’re here and he’s not. That we’re…” Landon wasn’t one for speeches, for sentiment, for any of this.
But it was his wedding day, and when he told Aly about this later, she’d be proud of him. It’d be something like another wedding gift. So he said the rest.
“Maybe I can’t ensure everything from here on out is good. We certainly can’t erase all the bad. But we can be together. We can be brothers. A family. It can be a foundation for a lot less bad in all our futures.”
His brothers looked at him with a mixture of surprise and discomfort.
And Landon figured that was gift enough.
*
Sam couldn’t help but feel awkward and out of place.
She wasn’t used to getting dressed up for starters or walking around the Bennet Ranch in heels.
She wouldn’t be any help with getting Aly ready, so she’d offered to greet the minister and get the ranch hands situated and whatnot.
Then when Jill had shown up with Glenda in tow, Sam had also agreed to keep an eye on Glenda.
It was getting close to time. The minister was situated, most of the ranch hands were milling around the chairs they’d help set up, talking to each other in their western best, some with significant others.
The florist was still fiddling with the flowers festooned around a rustic archway Aly had thrifted, but she was clearly getting it figured out and almost done.
Once Aly was ready, the boys would come out, and then it would all start. Sam stood next to Glenda, lost in her own thoughts and not really paying attention to the older woman.
At first.
Eventually, she started to realize Glenda was studying her. Sam wasn’t someone to back down from a study.
Even if Glenda was an … uncomfortable presence sometimes, with her eerie light-green eyes and intense, sustained eye contact. The not speaking and the never being quite sure what was going on in that stubborn head of hers. Still, Sam wouldn’t be made to feel uncomfortable.
Not when it was clearly the point. A point she almost envied.
Sam didn’t know if Glenda had surmised what Jill had asked of Honor’s Edge. She didn’t know what Glenda thought about anything, but Sam knew one thing for certain.
If Glenda just came clean about all the stuff she was no doubt keeping under wraps, Jill and probably Cal and maybe a few other people could stop living like there was a guillotine waiting to come down on their neck.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sam said to Glenda, gesturing at the archway.
Glenda grunted.
“It’s amazing what beautiful things can happen when the truth is brought to light,” Sam offered pointedly. No use being subtle.
“Some secrets …” Glenda said in that scratchy voice that had occasionally haunted Sam’s nightmares since the trial, “are sacred.”
Sacred. That was a hell of a word to choose. It made Sam … uncomfortable. Because she always followed the truth, even the uncomfortable ones. It worked out. The truth set a person free. Lies and secrets never did anything but warp and hurt.
But what made a secret sacred? She looked at Glenda, who wasn’t meeting her gaze anymore, but looking ahead. Detached. Like she wasn’t really here at all.
“Are they sacred if they hurt the people you love?”
Glenda said nothing. She didn’t look at her, but at the sound of a door closing, they both looked over at the house.