11. Levi
Levi
Iwake before she does.
The sky outside the cabin windows is still deep blue, the faintest streak of gold stretching over the ridge line. The mountains look different at this hour—quiet, waiting, like they’re holding their breath.
Sadie’s asleep on my sofa where she slept in my arms all night, curled under one of my blankets, hair loose and tangled from the night air. She looks younger when she sleeps. Softer. Not guarded. Not defiant.
Just her.
I stand in the kitchen for a long moment, staring at the drawer I haven’t opened in years.
Then I pull it open.
The velvet box sits exactly where I left it.
I turn it over in my hand, the weight of it heavier now than it was when I was eighteen and stupid enough to think love was simple.
The coffee finishes brewing behind me.
I pour two mugs.
Carry them out to the porch.
The sunrise is starting to spill gold over Devil’s Peak, the treetops glowing like they’ve caught fire in slow motion.
When I step back inside, she’s stirring.
Her eyes flutter open.
She blinks at me like she’s making sure I’m real.
“Morning,” she murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
“Morning.”
She pushes up on her elbows, blanket sliding down her shoulder. “You make coffee now?”
“I always did.”
She smiles faintly. I hand her the mug. She wraps both hands around it and breathes in deeply. The silence between us isn’t tense. It’s expectant.
She stands and walks past me to the porch without asking. Like she belongs here.
She does.
I follow her out into the bright sunshine. The mountains stretch endless and bright.
She leans against the railing, sipping her coffee, watching the light climb.
“You were serious last night, right?” she says quietly.
“Yeah.”
“No more pretending.”
“No more.”
She glances over her shoulder at me. “You’re different.”
“How?”
“You’re not holding back.”
I step closer. “I’m tired of losing you.”
Her throat moves when she swallows.
“You didn’t lose me,” she says softly. “You let me go.”
“I won’t again.” The certainty in my voice surprises even me.
She sets her mug down on the railing.
“You’re not scared?” she asks.
“Terrified.”
“Of what?”
“Of screwing this up.”
She turns fully toward me now. “You can’t control everything.”
“I’m not trying to.”
“Feels like you are.”
I pull the velvet box from my pocket. Her breath catches and the world narrows.
I hold it in my palm for a second before flipping it open.
The ring catches the sunrise, gold and simple, a small diamond set cleanly at the center.
She stares at it.
“What is that?” she whispers, even though she knows.
“I bought this when we were eighteen.”
Her eyes snap to mine. “You what?”
“I was going to give it to you the night before you left.”
She steps closer, disbelief written all over her face. “You never said anything.”
“I didn’t.”
“Why?”
I swallow. “Because I realized if I handed it to you, you might stay.”
“And that’s bad?”
“It would’ve been wrong.”
Her voice tightens. “You thought I’d stay out of obligation?”
“I thought you might choose me instead of yourself.”
She studies me like she’s trying to see eighteen-year-old me standing here.
“I didn’t want to trap your dreams,” I continue. “I didn’t want you looking back in ten years and wondering who you could’ve been.”
Her eyes glisten slightly. “So you just… kept it?”
“I kept it,” I admit. “Hoping you’d come back.”
The mountains glow brighter behind her. The light hits her hair, turning it gold.
“And if I hadn’t?” she asks.
“I would’ve kept it anyway.”
Her breath trembles. “You idiot.”
“Probably.”
She steps closer until she’s right in front of me. “You should’ve told me.”
“I know.”
“You should’ve fought.”
“I’m fighting now.”
She looks down at the ring again.
“You kept this for years?”
“Yeah.”
“For me?”
“For you.”
Silence settles heavy between us. The sunrise keeps climbing. Birdsong drifts faintly through the trees.
“You could’ve found someone else,” she says softly.
“I didn’t want someone else.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“Always have been.”
Her hand hovers over the ring but doesn’t touch it yet.
“This isn’t fake,” she says quietly.
“No.”
“This isn’t ninety days.”
“No.”
“This is forever?”
“That’s the idea.” Her lips tremble faintly, but she doesn’t look scared. She looks overwhelmed.
“Levi,” she whispers.
I take a slow breath. Then I step back and lower myself to one knee on the porch boards. The cabin, the trees, the entire mountain seems to fall silent.
“No more fake,” I say, looking up at her.
“No more almost.” Her hands fly to her mouth.
I keep going. “No more letting you walk away because I’m afraid of losing you.
No more pretending I don’t know exactly what I want.
” Her eyes shine. “I’ve wanted you since we were kids,” I continue.
“I wanted you when you left. I wanted you when you came back. I wanted you when you stood on that stage and half the town thought they had a chance.” Her laugh breaks through the emotion.
“I don’t want to win you,” I say firmly.
“I want to choose you. Every day. And I want you to choose me.”
She steps closer. I can feel her trembling slightly.
“I won’t trap you,” I add. “I won’t cage you. I won’t hold you back from anything. But I will stand beside you through all of it.”
Her breath hitches.
“Sadie Marshall,” I say, voice steady even though my chest is tight, “marry me.”
She doesn’t let me finish the rest. “Yes.”
The word bursts out of her before I can breathe again.
“Yes,” she repeats, laughing and crying at the same time. “Yes, you idiot.”
Relief slams into me so hard I have to brace myself on the porch. I stand quickly and slide the ring onto her finger.
She stares at her hand like it’s unreal.
“You really kept this,” she says again.
“I told you.”
She throws her arms around my neck. The kiss she presses to my mouth isn’t frantic. It isn’t fueled by jealousy or anger or unfinished business. Her fingers tangle in my shirt.
“You don’t get to let me go,” she murmurs against my lips.
“I won’t.”
“You don’t get to decide for me.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re asking.”
“I am.”
She pulls back slightly, studying my face. “You’re really doing this.”
“I am.”
“Even if I chase big dreams.”
“I’ll chase them with you.”
“Even if it’s not in Devil’s Peak?”
My jaw tightens slightly. “If it’s not here, we’ll build somewhere else.”
She smiles softly. “I like it here.”
“Good.”
She laughs through her tears. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it.”
She looks down at the ring again.
“You never stopped loving me…” she says.
“No.”
“Not once?”
“Not once.”
Her expression shifts, something vulnerable and steady at the same time.
“I never stopped either,” she admits.
The truth settles between us like sunrise.
She wraps her arms around me again, holding tight.
“I was so mad at you,” she murmurs.
“I know.” I kiss her again, slower this time, savoring it. The mountain light climbs higher, painting the porch gold. Below us, Devil’s Peak begins to wake.
By noon, the town will know.
By nightfall, Mrs. Dottie will have planned an entire wedding. I don’t care. I slide my hand into hers, feeling the weight of the ring between our fingers.
No more fake.
No more almost.
Just her.
Just me.
Choosing each other in the daylight instead of hiding in hallways.
And this time?
I’m never letting her go.
This woman is mine.