29. Gabriel #3
I sit, and Evie shifts closer immediately, her palm settling against the center of my chest, just below the device, as if she’s checking it. She does this sometimes without realizing. Or maybe she realizes every time.
My heart beats steadily beneath her hand, and her shoulders loosen.
“Better?” I ask.
She gives me a small smile. “Yes. I need it to last a long time, cowboy.”
Around us, the chaos continues.
Max tries to insert the end of a wooden spoon up Tom’s left nostril.
Shay and Delaney resume arguing about gravity and structural cake integrity.
Maggie has that dough broken and submissive—give her another minute and it’ll rise on command.
Kitty has now organized the forest floor into something that looks like a tiny enchanted garden—she clearly has strong opinions about moss placement.
Wire appears at the back door carrying two coils of extension cable, takes one look at the room, and quietly backs out again.
Smart man.
I reach into my pocket and take out the folded legal update.
Evie’s expression changes. “You read it?”
I nod. “Enough. You?”
She nods and releases a shaky sigh of relief.
“You all right?”
She looks out the window at the eastern ridge, visible beyond the yard. She can’t see the runway scar from here, but that doesn’t mean it is gone.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel,” she murmurs. “I thought I’d feel safer.”
“You will.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. It’ll take time.”
She nods. “Alexander sent an email through his attorney this morning. Didn’t open it.”
My body tightens.
“I told the attorney not to send anything else. Then I deleted the email.”
Pride moves through me. “You didn’t want to know what he said?”
“No,” she replies, her voice certain. “I spent years waiting for him to say the right thing. I’m done letting him decide when I have to listen.”
I cover her hand with mine. “Good.”
“He’ll keep trying.”
“Probably.”
Her gaze drops to our joined hands. “But he doesn’t get access just because he wants it.”
“No.”
Her other hand moves to her stomach. “He doesn’t get her.”
“He doesn’t get either of you,” I say, then lean back in the chair as the room blurs for half a second.
Evie notices, like she notices everything about me. “How long were you in the barn?”
“Not long.”
“Gabriel.”
“An hour.”
Dad snorts from the other side of the kitchen.
I point at him. “Do not.”
He lifts both hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Your snort was judgmental.”
“I learned it from Maggie.”
Maggie smiles without looking up as she drops the traumatized dough into a bowl and covers it with a towel.
Evie takes the paper from my hand and sets it on the table. “Upstairs. You need to lie down.”
“We have guests.”
“We have family.”
“That’s worse.”
Her smile softens. “Come on.”
I get to my feet, and Evie rises with me. For a moment, we stand there facing each other, both of us carrying bodies that no longer let us pretend there are no limits.
She smiles. “We make quite a pair.”
I nod, brushing my thumb over her cheek, now fuller from pregnancy and Maggie’s cooking. “The best.”
Around us, the kitchen noise falls away as she looks at me the way Dad said Mom would have liked—like I’m the stars in her sky.
I lower my forehead to hers. “You scared?”
“Yes. Scared, excited, hopeful.” Her eyes hold mine, the same hazel that stopped me cold in the Honey Pot. “And loved. So very loved.”
“Me too, Lightning.”
She grins at the mention of her rodeo persona.
“You’re my bolt of lightning.” I tap the scar on my chest. “The device keeps my heart beating, but you’re the one who taught it how.”
Her eyes sparkle with tears. “Gabe—”
I cut her off with a kiss, not caring who’s watching. I take my time, lingering over her sweet lips.
Tom makes a gagging noise from across the room, and Max giggles.
Evie laughs against my mouth, and the joy in it settles deep in my chest.
Three days from now, we’ll stand in front of our family and promise something we’re already doing.
Staying.
Choosing.
Not perfectly. Not without fear. But together.
I put my hand over our daughter, and she kicks once beneath my palm, strong and impatient. Already part of everything.
I look around the crowded kitchen. My father is carrying chairs. Delaney and Kitty are arguing over table placement. Maggie is whipping buttercream with enough force to qualify as an upper-body workout.
And then there’s the woman beside me who proposed to me in hospital scrubs while I was wired to six machines.
The future is still uncertain. My heart is still imperfect. Alexander is still alive.
There will always be another fence to mend. Another storm. Another reason to be afraid.
But she’s here, and so am I, and whatever comes next, neither of us will face it alone.
Evie threads her fingers through mine. “Bed, cowboy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
We start toward the stairs.
Behind us, Maggie calls, “Separate naps.”
Evie looks over her shoulder and smirks. “No promises.”
I laugh all the way upstairs.
And this time, when my chest aches, it’s only because my life is too full to hold it all quietly.