27. Gage
Gage
I found myself at Bullet's pasture before dawn again, but this time it wasn't because I couldn't sleep. It was because I had so much nervous energy I didn't know what to do with it, and the therapy horse had become my most reliable confidant.
"So here's the thing," I said, settling cross-legged in the grass while Bullet grazed nearby. "I told her I loved her."
The horse's ears flicked toward me, and he lifted his head from the grass long enough to give me what I could have sworn was an approving look.
"And she said it back," I continued, unable to keep the wonder out of my voice. "She actually said it back. After everything I did, everything I put her through, she still loves me."
Bullet moved closer, until he was standing directly in front of me. Over the past two months, we'd built this routine. Me talking through my feelings while he listened without judgment, offering the kind of steady presence that made vulnerability feel safe.
"The crazy part is," I said, reaching up to scratch behind his ears, "I think I might actually deserve it this time. Not because I'm perfect, God knows I'm not, but because I'm finally the kind of man who knows how to stay. How to fight for something instead of running from it."
The eastern sky was starting to lighten, painting the edges of the clouds with soft pink and gold. In a few hours, I was meeting Billie for lunch in town. Our first official date since the harvest festival, since the night she'd let me hold her and kiss her and tell her I wasn't going anywhere.
"I'm terrified," I admitted to the horse. "What if I mess this up? What if I'm not as different as I think I am?"
Bullet nickered softly, and I chose to interpret it as encouragement.
"You're right," I said with a laugh. "I can't control what happens. I can only control what I do about it."
The sound of footsteps made me turn. Dex was walking toward the pasture, two cups of coffee in his hands and a tired smile on his face that made me realize how little I'd seen of him lately.
"Morning, Dr. Dolittle," he said, offering me one of the cups.
"Very funny." I accepted the coffee gratefully, studying his face. There were shadows under his eyes that hadn't been there a few months ago. "You look like hell, man. I was starting to think you were avoiding me."
"What? No." Dex shook his head quickly. "Just been busy. Work at the garage has been picking up, and I've got this project I'm working on in the evenings and weekends. Haven't had much time for socializing."
"What kind of project?"
"Nothing exciting," Dex said, changing the subject so fast it was almost suspicious. "Just something I'm tinkering with. How's the patient today?"
He nodded toward Bullet, who was standing close to the fence, ears pricked forward like he was listening to our conversation.
"Wise as always," I said. "And a hell of a listener."
"Good quality in a therapist." Dex leaned against the fence, his expression thoughtful. "You look different."
"Different how?"
"Happy," he said simply. "Like you finally figured out that you're allowed to be."
I thought about that as I sipped my coffee. Was that what this feeling was? This lightness in my chest, this sense of possibility that had been growing stronger every day since the festival?
"I think I might be," I said quietly. "Happy, I mean. It's weird."
"Weird good or weird bad?"
"Weird unfamiliar." I paused, watching Bullet graze peacefully. "I don't think I've felt like this before."
Dex was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, there was something almost wistful in his voice.
"You know, I'm jealous as hell of you right now."
I raised an eyebrow. "Jealous? Of what?"
"Of having someone like Billie Schulster look at you the way she does." He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Of getting a second chance with the love of your life. Don't mess it up this time, okay?"
There was something in his tone, not threatening, just... lonely. Like he was watching from the outside of something he wanted but couldn't have.
"Dex..."
"I'm serious, Gage. That woman's been in love with you since she was twelve years old. Anyone with eyes can see it. Don't screw it up because you're scared or because you think you don't deserve it."
The intensity in his voice caught me off guard. "Are you okay, man? You seem..."
"I'm fine," he said quickly. "Just tired. Too many late nights working."
I wanted to push, to ask what was really going on with him, but something in his expression warned me off. Instead, I settled for changing the subject.
"Remember when we used to come out here as kids?" I asked. "You, me, and the boys, catching frogs and pretending we were explorers?"
Dex's smile became more genuine. "I remember you falling in that water trying to impress Billie when we were about fourteen. Came up covered in pond weeds, sputtering like a drowned cat."
"She laughed for ten minutes," I said, grinning at the memory. "But she also helped me out of the water."
"She always did take care of you." Dex's voice was quiet now, thoughtful. "Even when you were too stupid to realize how good you had it."
"I realize it now."
"Good." He finished his coffee and pushed away from the fence. "I missed you, you know. All these years. Missed having my best friend around."
The words hit me harder than I expected. "Dex..."
"I know I'm not really family," he continued. "Not like Booker and the others. But you coming home... it feels like something broken got fixed. Like the family is whole again."
I stared at him, feeling something tight and emotional building in my chest. "Are you kidding me?
You're not family? Dex, you've been our brother in every way that matters since we were eight years old.
You think any of us would have survived our childhood without you?
Without someone showing us what friendship and loyalty looked like? "
"Gage..."
"I'm serious. You were there for all of us when our own father couldn't be. You taught us how to fix things, how to be there for each other, how to be good men. I can never thank you enough for that."
Dex's eyes were suspiciously bright, and he looked away quickly. "Christ, you're getting mushy in your old age."
"Blame it on being happy," I said, grinning. "Apparently it makes me sentimental."
"Well, cut it out before I start crying into my coffee.
" But he was smiling now, the real smile I remembered from our childhood.
"Speaking of being happy, you better get cleaned up for your lunch date.
You need to shower off the smell of horse.
Can't show up looking like you've been rolling around in a pasture. "
"Probably not," I agreed, brushing grass off my jeans. "Though knowing Billie, she'd find it charming."
"She'd find you charming if you showed up covered in mud and singing show tunes," Dex said. "That woman's got it bad for you."
"You think?"
"I know. And you better not mess it up, or I'll have to kick your ass myself."
"Noted," I said, laughing. "Thanks for the coffee, Dex. And for... everything."
"Any time, brother. Now go get ready for your date."
As I walked back toward the cottage, I felt something settle in my chest. For the first time, it felt like I was walking toward something instead of away from it. Toward love, toward family, toward the life I'd always been too scared to believe I could have.
It felt like coming home.
Three hours later, I was sitting across from Billie at a corner table in the Willowbrook Café, trying not to stare at the way the late morning sunlight caught the gold strands in her hair.
"You're doing it again," she said with an amused smile.
"Doing what?"
"Staring at me like I'm going to disappear if you look away."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "Sorry. I'm still getting used to this being real."
"This?" she asked, gesturing between us.
"This. You. Us." I reached across the table and took her hand, marveling at how right it felt. "The fact that you're actually here, having lunch with me, letting me hold your hand in public."
"It is pretty surreal," she agreed, but her smile was soft and warm. "Good surreal, though."
"The best surreal."
She laughed, and the sound made my chest tight with happiness. "So tell me about your morning. How was your therapy session with Bullet?"
I raised an eyebrow. "You know about that?"
"Gage, half the town knows about that. Blake mentioned it to Marie, who mentioned it to Delaney, who mentioned it to me." She squeezed my hand. "I think it's sweet."
"Sweet?"
"That you found a way to process your feelings. That you didn't just bottle everything up like you used to. It's also nice to see that the whole ethos behind the rehab center actually works. That people get the benefit Booker always knew they would."
The observation was so astute, so perfectly her, that I felt my heart skip. This was the Billie I'd fallen in love with as a kid. The one who saw straight through people's defenses to the truth underneath, who offered understanding instead of judgment.
"He's a good listener," I said. "Better than most humans I've known."
"What did you talk about today?"
"You," I said honestly. "Us. How terrified and grateful I am that you're giving me another chance."
"Just another chance?" she asked, and there was something playful in her voice.
"The chance," I corrected. "The only one that matters."
Her cheeks flushed pink, and she looked down at our joined hands. "I'm scared too, you know. This morning I changed outfits three times and then stood in front of my bathroom mirror giving myself a pep talk about how it's just lunch with Gage, nothing to panic about."
"And yet here you are."
"Here I am," she agreed. "Panicking internally but trying to look calm and collected."
"You look beautiful," I said quietly. "You always look beautiful, but today especially."
"Gage..."
"I mean it," I said, bringing her hand to my lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. "You take my breath away."