Chapter 43
Boone walked into the Summer Sunflower Spectacular with a heart that felt like it had been wrung out, hung up to dry, and then wrung out again—because apparently falling in love meant learning all the ways a man could come apart in public.
He shoved through the crowd, ignoring the kid who nearly took out his knees and the woman who almost smeared powdered sugar across his shirt. The whole damn square was packed, but Boone only cared about one thing.
The pie-booth, which he could see in the distance.
His heart dropped to his feet because there she was, talking to Annabelle.
She stayed.
Those two words beat around inside his skull. She hadn't gone back to New York. Hadn't packed up and disappeared while he was busy figuring out what a fucking idiot he'd been.
She was still there. And he wasn't wasting another damn second.
He picked up his pace.
He didn't know what he was going to say when he got to her. Didn't know if she'd listen. Hell, she might tell him to go fuck himself, and he'd probably deserve it. But he was going to beg if that’s what it took.
He’d just passed the face painting booth when a hand shot out in front of his chest.
Boone jerked to a stop, his boots scraping against the pavement.
Virgil stood there in all his smug, over-polished glory—wearing a pastel button-down so stiff and pristine it looked like it had been ironed by angels with superiority complexes.
The man didn't sweat, didn't wrinkle, didn't so much as breathe without looking pleased with himself.
Even in ninety-degree heat, his shirt remained crisp, starched, and smarmy, like he'd dressed specifically to remind everyone he was better than them.
Irritation flared hot in Boone's chest. "Not now."
"It can't wait," Virgil said, standing firm like a stone in the middle of the moving crowd.
Boone felt his fists clench, muscles coiling, ready to shove past him. "You have two seconds to remove yourself from my presence or I will knock you out of the fucking way. Your choice."
"I'm going to honor the original handshake deal," Virgil calmly said.
Boone blinked, the words hitting him so hard it felt like the ground shifted under his boots. For a full second he just stared, mouth slack, breath punched clean out of his lungs.
His mind scrambled, trying to grab hold of the sentence that made no earthly sense—Virgil Maddox, king of loopholes and fine print, honoring a handshake deal?
"You're what?" His voice was rough with disbelief.
“Honoring the original agreement.”
“Why now?"
Virgil's jaw tightened. "Because your girlfriend also sent the letter to my aunt."
"What?"
"My aunt read it and then demanded I be a man who lives up to my family's promises and deserves the last name, Maddox."
She'd done this?
The words barely registered at first, his mind rebelling against the idea that Vivi—messy, stubborn, impossible Vivi—had somehow saved the ranch he thought was slipping through his fingers.
Gratitude and something like guilt slammed into him all at once.
He'd blamed her for everything that went down, without realizing that she'd done it for his family and their land. She’d done it for him.
Vivi, in her big, loud, loving way, had done what two generations of Callahans hadn't been able to do—she'd used love and kindness to save the ranch.
Heat surged in Boone's chest, frustration and guilt tangling into a tight, sharp coil. He wanted to shove Virgil aside, find Vivi and fix everything.
But Virgil didn't move. "I have the contract right here."
The shock should've knocked him on his ass. Instead, for the first time in weeks, everything felt damn simple. The ranch, the Callahan name, all the shit he'd spent his whole life protecting—none of it meant a fucking thing if protecting it cost him her.
Vivi was his future, the only legacy he gave a damn about, and the one thing he couldn't afford to lose.
Boone pushed the papers out of his way. "The contract can wait."
Boone shouldered his way through the crowd, muttering a few half-assed apologies when he clipped someone and none at all when they were too slow to get the hell out of his way. He had one goal, and she was standing on the other side of the damn square.
By the time he reached the front of the line, his patience was shot. And then he saw her.
Vivi stood behind the booth arranging pies, her blond hair catching the sun, completely oblivious to the fact that Boone had just pissed off half of Bridlewood getting to her.
Jesus, he'd missed her.
Missed her smile, her smart mouth and the way she could get under his skin without even trying.
Hell, he'd even missed being annoyed by her.
Her head turned and she saw him. Her eyes went wide and startled. They held a flicker of something that gutted him to see. Hurt. The kind of hurt only he could have left there.
Suddenly, all the arguments, all the mistakes, all the things he'd said to push her away crashed over him like a tidal wave. He wanted to fall to his knees and apologize for every single one of them.
"Vivi—" His voice broke before he could stop it. "You didn't leave town."
"No," she said, with a confidence that struck him. "I've decided to stay here in Bridlewood. I'm not going to let what happened between us change my plans."
"So, you're staying? For good?"
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Maybe this meant he still had a chance to make things right. Maybe it meant that the universe was giving him a do-over.
Vivi wiped a stray tear from her cheek, took a steadying breath, and finally met his gaze fully.
"I'm staying," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "But not for you, Boone. I'm staying for me, for the life I want, for the choices I've decided I won't let anyone else make for me anymore."
He blinked, a rush of pride swelling in his chest, fierce and blinding. She was choosing herself, claiming her own ground, and he couldn't help but admire her for it. Every fiber of him wanted to cheer, to wrap her in his arms and never let go.
"And me?" he asked, almost hesitant. "Is there room for me in that world?"
Vivi shook her head—small and almost imperceptible—though her eyes softened. "I don't know, Boone. Maybe. But if so, we'll have to take it slow. I don't want to get lost in your world. I want to thrive in my own."
Boone's chest tightened, a mix of hope and dread battling it out.
He wanted to argue, to beg, to tell her she had nothing to prove to herself if she still loved him.
Instead, he said, "Then I'll wait. For however long it takes.
Because no matter what, I'm not taking away your choices but I'm also not walking away from you. Not ever."
Vivi's lips curved faintly at that, a fragile, wary smile, and in that moment Boone felt both the weight of his fear and the dizzying possibility that, just maybe, she'd let him in again—on her terms, when she was ready.
"I'm so fucking sorry." His voice dropped low, rough with everything he'd been holding back. "I was afraid to love you because I was afraid I'd eventually lose you. But in the end, I chased you away."
Vivi's hands froze mid-motion, a pie trembling slightly on the tray. Her lips parted, but no words came, and the pause stretched unbearably long.
Boone felt every unspoken thing hanging in the air between them: fear, anger, love, and the trust he had nearly destroyed.
"I don't know how to fix it," he admitted, voice cracking. "I don't even know if it can be fixed. But I know I can't walk away from you."
Her breath hitched, and for a moment he thought she might step back, pull away entirely—but instead her eyes softened, glistening with tears.
It wasn't just relief he saw in her gaze it was recognition.
Recognition that he was here, that he was trying, that he had finally understood the weight of what he'd risked losing.
"Boone," she whispered, her voice shaky, almost broken. "You—"
"I know," he said quickly, almost begging. "I know I've screwed up. I know I've hurt you. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it right. But Vivi, I love you. I've loved you since the morning I woke up with you in my arms and I'm not leaving until you believe me."
The tears he'd been holding back all this time started to burn behind his eyes and he let himself feel them.
For once, there was no shame or fear, just the raw, overwhelming truth of her standing there in front of him—the girl who'd saved his ranch, his family, his heart—and all the moments he had wasted not saying the words he should have said a thousand times before.
"I love you too," she said, voice trembling. "I want to give this a try."
His heart slammed against his ribs, disbelief and joy warring for dominance. He let himself smile, a shaky laugh bubbling out. "You mean that?"
She nodded, biting her lip, the vulnerability only making her more beautiful.
"But I need my freedom too. My own place. Time and space to chase the things I'm passionate about without you weighing in or changing my course. And you have to be okay with that. Those are my terms."
Boone took a step closer, closing the space between them.
"Boots, I wouldn't have it any other way.
" Every word was soaked with certainty, with reverence, with a love he'd been too stubborn to admit before.
"I want all of you. The chaos, the fire, the stubborn streak.
I want you to live your life and I'll be right here, cheering you on, loving you, whatever you do. "
A small, fragile smile curved her lips and Boone felt like the sun had broken through years of storm clouds.
"All right," she whispered.
"All right," he echoed.
Her hand found his and their fingers intertwined, and he held it like he'd never let go.
She squeezed his hand. "I'm in this for the long haul.”
"For the long haul."
And just like that, amid the laughter of the fair, the smell of hot summer days and second chances, Boone realized he'd finally found his legacy—and it wasn't land or letters or pride.
It was Vivi—exactly how she was.