Chapter 30 COLE
COLE
I wake up before the sun. Not because of nerves, though I have plenty of those pulsing through my veins, but because Aria climbs onto my chest at five in the morning and whispers, “Daddy, it’s your wedding day!”
I open my eyes to find her kneeling on the bed, curls wild, wearing her flower-girl robe that reads “Princess of the Day” across the back.
A stretch pulls at my ribs, the last of my bruises still lingering, but I don’t mind. It’s a good kind of ache—the kind that reminds me we survived, we healed, and today… we get to start new.
“You excited?” I ask her, voice rough.
It’s obvious. The wedding is not for another twelve hours, but she looks ready—more than ready.
She nods so hard her curls bounce. “I’m gonna throw petals. Daisy and I practiced. And Miss Ella said no eating them because they’re not snacks, even if they look like snacks.”
I laugh, pull her down, kiss her forehead. “Good rule.”
She beams. Then her face softens into something small and sincere. “Daddy… I’m glad you found her.”
My throat tightens. “Me too, sweetheart.”
She hugs my neck so tight I have to close my eyes. She doesn’t need to say it, but I feel it anyway—after everything she’s been through, after losing the home she thought she had, after being scared of love turning to chaos… she finally feels safe.
Ella did that. Ella saved both of us.
She climbs down and sprints out of the room, yelling for breakfast, leaving the sheets twisted around my legs and the morning way too loud for how early it is.
I scrub a hand over my face. The sun’s barely thinking about rising. I’m half tempted to get up, start pacing, start checking a hundred pointless things just because it’s my wedding day and my brain won’t shut off.
But then Aria reappears in the doorway, peeking back in with her head tilted. “Daddy? Aren’t you getting up?”
I glance at the clock. It’s painfully early. Even the birds aren’t awake.
I shake my head and pat the mattress beside me. “Come here.”
She hesitates, like she’s unsure if she should or if she’s too old for this now. But then she crawls back onto the bed and snuggles right into my side, small hands fisting my shirt like she used to when she was little.
“It’s too early to do anything,” I tell her gently. “How about we sleep a little longer?”
Her voice comes out soft. “But… It’s your wedding day. Isn’t there stuff you gotta do?”
“Yeah. Later,” I murmur, brushing her hair back. “Right now? I just want a few quiet minutes with my girl.”
She relaxes instantly, head resting on my chest, breath warm through the fabric of my shirt. The kind of moment that cracks me open a little—the reminder that even when life changes, even when families grow and new love comes in, she’s still my first anchor. My heartbeat outside my body.
“You nervous?” she asks quietly.
“A little,” I admit.
“I’m not,” she whispers, already drifting. “Miss Ella’s gonna be perfect.”
My throat tightens. She always knows what to say without meaning to.
I hold her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Go back to sleep, baby.”
“Mm’kay…” she mumbles.
Her breathing evens out, soft and steady against me, and I let my eyes close too, just for a moment. The world can wait. The ranch can wait. The wedding can wait.
Right now, it’s just me and my daughter curled up in the early quiet of a day that’s about to change everything.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m not rushing toward the future.
I’m letting it come.
By the time I’m dressed and stepping outside of my cabin, the whole property is buzzing. There are string lights woven between the trees, long rows of white chairs set facing the water, flower arches, and soft music coming from somewhere near the barn.
Ava is apparently incapable of doing anything halfway, because she turned the ranch into something straight out of a movie. From a distance, I see her holding a clipboard, bossing Beck and Jace around like a drill sergeant in stilettos.
I’m in a charcoal suit Hank insisted on buying me—said something about “family traditions” and “looking respectable for once”—and I’ll admit, when I catch my reflection in the window of the main house, I look like a man who’s ready.
A man who’s certain.
A man who’s lucky.
Inside the main house, my mom is already crying.
She clutches a lace handkerchief to her chest, eyes watering as she looks me over. She’s dressed in a pale blue dress she baked herself into—her words—and she hasn’t stopped sniffing since I walked in.
“My baby,” she says, touching my cheek. “Getting married.”
“Ma,” I murmur, embarrassed but also not. “Don’t start yet.”
“I can’t help it,” she sniffles. “Oh, Lord, I should’ve worn waterproof mascara.”
“Already crying?” Jace teases from behind her.
She waves her hand dismissively. “Mind your business, Ranger.”
Even with the teasing and bustle around me, there’s this underlying current beneath it all—this quiet disbelief that today is actually happening. After everything—the betrayal, custody fights, grief, trauma, and doubts.
I never expected to get another chance at this. Not after Calista. Not after losing my trust in everything that looked like love.
But then Ella stormed into my life like the sun breaking through a storm—all warmth, fire, and soft edges. She saw me when I didn’t want to be seen, fought for me when I didn’t think I deserved it, and held me steady when I was coming apart.
And now she’s choosing me. In front of everyone. For the rest of our lives.
It almost knocks the breath out of me.
“You ready?” Hank asks from the doorway, voice calmer than usual.
I nod slowly. “Yeah.”
He studies me the way a father might, even though he’s not mine. He gave me a chance when he didn’t have to. Trusted me with his daughter. Showed me that family isn’t always blood.
“You love her?” he asks, low.
“With everything I am.”
He nods like that’s the only answer he was willing to accept. “Good. Then today will be easy.”
Easy? I hope he’s right.
I want to go find Ella, but Ava makes sure to keep her as far away from me as possible. We’ll be spending the rest of our lives together, so I remain patient.
The ceremony starts just before sunset.
The chairs fill with people—ranch hands, family, friends, town officials, and even some of my construction crew, who Aria insisted were “practically uncles.” Aria and Daisy take their place at the start of the aisle, flower baskets in hand.
They’re both glowing, braids woven with baby’s breath, dresses in soft blush pink.
I stand under the arch Ava decorated with white roses and eucalyptus, palms sweating, heart banging like I’m about to charge out of a chute on a bull.
“You good?” Zane murmurs, passing by on his way to his seat.
“No.”
He smirks. “Thought so.”
My mom squeezes my arm from where she stands beside me—my stand-in best man, because I don’t have brothers or lifelong friends anymore. And honestly? I wouldn’t want anyone but her here with me.
The music shifts, everyone rises, and the world stops.
Ella appears at the end of the aisle wearing a dress so delicate and soft it almost looks like it was spun from sunlight.
Off-the-shoulder tulle, fitted bodice, the skirt flowing around her like a dream she walked into.
Her hair falls in loose waves, pinned on one side with a simple pearl comb.
Her bruises are long gone, smile bright enough to blind me.
Hank walks beside her, pride written in every line of his face, but I barely see him.
I only see her.
Ella. My girl. My reason.
My knees damn near give out.
She locks eyes with me, and I swear my heart stops beating for a full second. There’s nervousness there, sure, but underneath it is something steady, warm, unwavering.
Love.
The kind that doesn’t burn out. The kind that stays.
When she finally reaches me, Hank presses a kiss to her forehead, places her hand into mine, and whispers, “Don’t screw it up.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I assure him.
Then he goes to sit.
Ella’s hand trembles in mine.
“Hi,” she whispers.
I lean in, smile. “Hi.”
“You look handsome.”
“You look like everything.”
Her cheeks flush, and just like that, the rest of the world fades out.
Our officiant is Beck because he wouldn’t let up until we gave him the role. He starts talking, but I barely hear him. Ella keeps sneaking glances at me—soft and shy—and every time she squeezes my hand, it steadies something in me I didn’t realize was shaking.
Then it’s vow time.
Ella goes first.
She turns toward me, hands trembling just a little as she takes mine. The entire ranch goes quiet, but she doesn’t look at anyone except me.
“Cole,” she starts softly, breath catching. “I don’t think you know this… but the first time I saw you, I was six years old.”
A surprised murmur sweeps the crowd. My eyebrows lift.
She smiles, shy but sure. “You were sixteen, over by the East pasture helping your dad fix a fence line. I remember standing on the porch with a popsicle, staring way too long for a six-year-old, thinking, That boy is the strongest person I’ve ever seen.”
Laughter ripples gently through the guests.
“And when you lifted that beam like it weighed nothing, I decided right then that someday…” She laughs under her breath, cheeks warm. “Someday, I wanted someone to look at me the way you looked at the work you were doing. Focused. Steady. Like you didn’t quit when things got heavy.”
Her voice goes softer.
“I don’t think childhood crushes are supposed to last twenty years… but mine did. Even when life changed, even when you became someone else’s, even when I convinced myself you’d never see me as more than the little Morgan girl who followed her brothers around with braids and scraped knees.”
I squeeze her hands gently, because my chest is tight.