Chapter 19 #2
Riley’s gaze stayed fixed on the dark stretch of pasture beyond the porch, the quilt pulled tight around her shoulders like armor.
“It’s just a formality now. With Todd in custody, the charges, everything. Diana said it should be straightforward.”
The words hung between us, too neat, too rehearsed. I felt her hand tense in mine, like saying it out loud had stirred something she’d been holding still.
“But it still matters.”
She nodded once, slow.
“Yeah.” A breath in. A breath out. “It still matters.”
The porch swing gave a low creak as we rocked, back and forth, back and forth. An owl called from the treeline, the sound hollow and watchful. In the barn, a horse stamped, then another, leather and wood settling as the night deepened around us.
The cold crept in through the quilt, through the boards beneath our feet. I shifted closer without thinking, letting my shoulder press into hers, grounding us both.
I don’t know how long we sat like that—long enough for the stars to feel fixed, for the quiet to stop feeling tense and start feeling earned—before I finally stood, drew her up with me, and took her hand, leading her toward the edge of the porch.
I turned to her instead. Let myself take her in.
Moonlight threaded through her dark hair, turning the edges silver.
The scar on her shoulder was still there, faint and pink where the stitches had been, a quiet reminder of how close we’d come to losing everything.
Her face was open now—confused, curious, trusting.
The look she wore when she didn’t know where we were going but believed I wouldn’t lead her somewhere unsafe.
“What are we doing?”
I held her gaze for a beat longer than necessary, like I was bracing myself.
“I had a plan.”
The words came out softer than I’d expected.
“For how I was going to do this.”
I shifted my weight, felt the porch boards creak beneath my boots.
“I was going to take you to dinner. Somewhere nice. Candles, maybe. Wine you’d pretend to like.”
Her brow knit, just slightly. A question forming she hadn’t voiced yet.
“Do what?”
I slipped my hand into my pocket. The small, familiar weight was grounding. I drew it out slowly—not dramatic, just honest—and held it between us.
The velvet box caught the moonlight.
Her breath hitched. Sharp and sudden. Her hand flew to her mouth like she was trying to hold the moment still, afraid it might vanish if she didn’t.
I watched it all—the way her shoulders lifted, the way her eyes shone, the way her pulse jumped visibly at her throat.
I didn’t look away.
“Liam—”
“I know we’re already married.” I opened the box. Gran’s ring caught the moonlight, simple and elegant, the gold worn smooth with fifty-three years of love. “I know we’ve already said the words. But I never got to ask you properly. Never got to do this the way you deserve.”
I lowered myself to one knee. The porch boards creaked beneath me, the same boards my grandfather had nailed down sixty years ago, the same porch where Gran had said yes on a night just like this one.
“This was my grandmother’s ring. She wore it for fifty-three years.
She told me to give it to the woman who chooses this life with me.
” My voice was steady. Certain. “You chose me, Riley. You chose this ranch and this life and a man who comes with too much baggage and not enough sleep. You chose Mia. You chose us.”
I took her hand. She was shaking. Or maybe I was.
“A week ago, I thought I’d lost you. And standing there, watching them load you into that ambulance, I realized how much time I’d wasted being afraid. Afraid to want too much. Afraid to hope. Afraid if I asked for everything, I’d end up with nothing.”
I looked up at her. Tears streamed down her face, catching the starlight.
“I’m not scared anymore. I’m asking for everything.
” I squeezed her hand. “Riley Santos, will you marry me? For real this time. Not because we have to. Because I love you. Because I want to spend the rest of my life waking up next to you. Because I can’t imagine this ranch or this life or any of it without you in it. ”
She was crying. Laughing. Both at once, the way she did when emotions got too big for one response.
“You’re an idiot.”
She was already pulling me up by the front of my jacket, shaking her head with something between laughter and tears.
“We’re already married.”
I searched her face anyway, like I needed confirmation written somewhere I could hold onto.
“Is that a yes?”
She didn’t answer.
She kissed me instead—hard and unguarded, the kind of kiss that doesn’t negotiate. It tasted like tears and cold night air, her arms locking around my neck as I dragged her closer, hands sliding into her hair like I was afraid she might disappear if I let go.
When she finally pulled back, she was grinning, breathless, eyes bright.
“Yes.”
The word came soft but certain.
“Yes, I’ll marry you. Again. Properly. With a dress and flowers and Mia throwing petals everywhere.”
My hands were shaking when I slid the ring onto her finger. It settled beside the plain gold band I’d bought in a rush eight months ago—the one that had started everything. The two rings fit together like they’d been waiting for each other. Like this had always been the plan.
I didn’t look away from her when the words came out.
“I love you.”
Her fingers tightened around mine.
“I love you too.” She lifted her hand, turning it slightly, watching the moonlight catch the stone. “Your grandmother had good taste.”
“She would have loved you.”
Her eyes flicked back to mine.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. She always said I needed someone stubborn enough to stick around.”
Riley laughed and leaned into me, resting her head against my chest like it belonged there. We stood that way for a moment, looking out over the land my family had built—the pastures washed silver under the stars, the mountains dark and steady against the horizon.
She tipped her head back just enough to look up at me.
“So. When’s the wedding?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“Whenever you want. Tomorrow. Next month.” I bent and pressed a kiss into her hair. “I just want it to be real.”
She stilled, then smiled in that quiet, certain way she had when she meant every word.
“It’s already real.” Her hand slid over my heart. “It’s been real for a long time.”
She fell asleep wearing my grandmother’s ring.
I lay there watching the moonlight catch the gold, the soft gleam where it rested beside the plain band we’d bought in a rush eight months ago. Two rings now. One born out of necessity. One chosen freely, deliberately. The difference between surviving and staying.
Riley shifted in her sleep, her fingers finding mine without waking, the way they always did now. Automatic. Like her body had learned the shape of me, learned where safety lived, even when her mind had let go.
Down the hall, Mia slept in her own room. The door cracked open. The nightlight was on. The first night since the clearing. A small thing, maybe. But my chest ached with how big it felt.
A week ago, I’d been kneeling in the dirt, blood everywhere, certain I was watching my life end in front of me. Certain I’d waited too long, loved too quietly, wasted what mattered most.
Now Riley was here. Warm. Breathing. Wearing my grandmother’s ring like it had always belonged to her. Talking about a wedding we didn’t need but wanted anyway.
I let that truth settle. Let it sink past the fear, past the habit of bracing for loss.
Funny how it worked. You spent years afraid to want too much, afraid that wanting was an invitation to lose—and then you almost did. And suddenly the fear felt small. Petty. A terrible use of the time you’d been given.
I wasn’t going to waste any more of it.
I pressed a kiss into Riley’s hair, breathed her in, and let my mind wander forward for once without flinching. The wedding. Mia in a dress she’d complain about. Cal giving a toast that would wreck everyone. This porch, years from now, arguments about coffee and chores and whose knees hurt worse.
I’d spent thirty years on this land. Thought I knew what loving it meant.
I’d been wrong.
It wasn’t the place. It was the people.
Riley. Mia. A family I hadn’t planned for, had fought for anyway, and somehow—against every odd—got to keep.
I closed my eyes.
Not hoping. Not bargaining. Just knowing.
We weren’t just going to be okay. We were already there.