Chapter 15 #2
"I'll sleep when I'm dead. Or after the fireworks. Whichever comes first." She linked her arm through mine, just like she used to when we were kids. "Come on. I need coffee and one of Mrs. Henderson's funnel cakes."
Louisa watched us go with a soft smile, and I caught her murmuring something to Owen—probably about how nice it was to see Sophia so happy.
The square was even more crowded now, families with strollers navigating around clusters of teenagers, elderly couples sitting on benches, kids running everywhere with sticky faces and boundless energy.
And no one was looking at me.
People glanced and smiled politely, nodding in that small-town way, but no one did a double-take. No one pulled out their phone to snap a photo. No one whispered or pointed or asked for an autograph.
I was invisible. Wonderfully so.
"You okay?" Sophia asked, watching my face.
"Better than okay." I blinked rapidly, grateful for the sunglasses hiding my suddenly wet eyes. "This is... this is really nice."
She squeezed my arm, understanding in her eyes. She knew what my life had become—the constant visibility, the loss of privacy, the exhausting performance of being Stevie Wilson.
"It's good to have you home," she said simply.
Home. That word kept coming up.
We found the others near the game booths, where a heated competition was apparently underway.
"I'm telling you, the ring toss is rigged," Clay insisted, glaring at the booth operator. "Those bottles are weighted."
"Or your aim is just bad," Wyatt suggested mildly.
"My aim is perfect."
"Then why can't you win a stuffed bear?” Wyatt asked between laughs.
"Because. The game. Is rigged,” Clay repeated through a tight jaw.
Liam found me a few minutes later, slipping his hand into mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Having fun?"
"I'm having the best time." I leaned into him, letting his solid warmth anchor me. "Your family is..."
"A lot?"
"Wonderful. They're wonderful, Lee."
His smile was soft, private—just for me. "They like you, you know. All of them. You fit."
There it was again. That word. Fit.
"Hey," Liam said, his attention caught by something over my shoulder. "There's someone I want you to meet."
He guided me through the crowd toward a man standing near the horseshoe pits with Owen. He looked to be in his sixties, weathered and lean in the way of men who'd spent their lives working outdoors. His silver hair was tucked under a worn Stetson, and his eyes crinkled when he saw Liam approaching.
"There's the man of the hour," he said, his voice gruff but warm. "Owen tells me you've been keeping busy out at the ranch."
"Trying to, sir." Liam shook his hand, then turned to me. "Steph, this is Tom Morrison. He's been our neighbor since before I was born. Tom, this is Stephanie."
Tom's eyes softened as he looked at me, and something shifted in his expression—recognition, maybe, but not the kind I was used to. Something deeper.
"So you're the famous Stephanie," he said, taking my hand in both of his. "I've heard a lot about you over the years. It's real good to finally meet you in person."
"Over the years?" I glanced at Liam, confused.
"Tom is the one who lent me his jet," Liam said quietly. "And his helicopter. When I came to get you in LA."
The air rushed out of my lungs.
"I—" My voice cracked. I tried again. "I don't know how to thank you. What you did—lending Liam your plane, your helicopter—I don't even know you, and you just..."
"Didn't need to know you," Tom said simply.
"I know Liam. Known him since he was knee-high, running around my barn trying to fix things.
" His grip on my hand tightened briefly.
"When Owen called and said Liam needed to get to someone important, that was all I needed to hear.
Any friend of this family is a friend of mine. "
Tears pricked at my eyes. "Still. Thank you. I don't think I'd be standing here if you hadn't helped."
Tom released my hand and nodded once, gruff and embarrassed by the emotion.
"You're standing here because Liam moved heaven and earth to get to you.
I just provided the transportation." He clapped Liam on the shoulder.
"You take care of this one, you hear? She's got good manners. That's rare these days."
I bit back a giggle, and Liam’s arm slid around my waist, pulling me close. "Yes, sir. I intend to."
Tom wandered off toward the horseshoe tournament, and I turned to Liam, still shaky from the encounter. "You never told me his name. All this time, I didn't know who to thank."
"You didn't need to thank anyone. Getting you home safe was all that mattered."
"It matters to me." I rose on my toes and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for introducing us."
"Come on." He tugged my hand. "There's a band setting up in the square. We should go dance."
"Dance?" I laughed nervously. "In public?"
"That's generally where dancing happens."
"But people will see—"
"People will see a couple dancing at a festival. That's all." He squeezed my hand. "Trust me?"
I looked at him—this man who'd flown across the country to save me, who'd given me space to heal, who'd loved me patiently and completely since we were kids.
"Always."
The band was a local group—guitar, fiddle, and a drummer—setting up on a makeshift stage in the center of the square. They launched into a country song I didn't recognize, something twangy and sweet about summertime and falling in love.
The Blackwoods had claimed a corner of the dance area.
Wyatt and Ivy swayed together, her head on his shoulder, his hands gentle on her back.
Owen spun Louisa around, both of them moving with the easy grace of decades of partnership.
Even Clay had found a partner—a pretty brunette who seemed amused by his awkward two-step.
Liam pulled me into his arms, and everything else faded away.
"I should warn you," I said as he guided me into a slow sway, "I'm used to having a choreographer telling me exactly where to step. This whole 'improvising in someone's arms' thing is new territory."
"You're doing fine." His hand was warm on my lower back, steady and sure.
"That's because you're leading. I'm just trying not to step on your boots."
"These boots have survived worse than you, sweetheart."
I laughed, relaxing into him. "Is that a challenge?"
"Maybe." His lips brushed my ear, voice dropping low. "Though I can think of better ways to test your footwork."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "Liam Walker, are you flirting with me at your family's festival?"
"Absolutely." He spun me out, then pulled me back in, closer than before. "Is it working?"
"Maybe." I slid my hands up his chest, feeling his heart beat steadily under my palm. "You might need to try harder."
"Harder?" His eyes darkened, and he dipped me right there in the middle of the dance floor. When he pulled me back up, his mouth was a breath away from mine. "How's that?"
"Show-off," I whispered, but I was smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.
The song shifted into something slower, and Liam pulled me closer. My head fit perfectly against his shoulder.
"I could get used to this," I murmured.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. The dancing. The festival. Your family." I pulled back just enough to look at him. "You."
"You've always had me, Steph. Since we were kids."
"I know. But this is different. This is—" I searched for the right word. "Real."
He kissed me then, soft and sweet, right there in the middle of the dance floor with his entire family watching. Somewhere behind us, Clay whistled. Maggie shouted, "Get a room!"
Liam just smiled against my lips. "Want to get out of here?"
"Not yet." I pulled back, grinning. "I want to eat terrible fair food and watch your aunt destroy everyone in the pie contest and maybe win one of those rigged stuffed animals."
His laugh was warm and free, and he spun me around once, just because he could.
The evening passed in a blur of perfect moments.
I ate a corn dog that was somehow the best thing I'd ever tasted.
I watched Louisa accept her first-place ribbon with a graciousness that barely concealed her triumph.
I cheered while Liam failed spectacularly at the ring toss and then again at the balloon darts, finally winning a tiny stuffed horse through sheer stubbornness at the basketball throw.
"For you," he said solemnly, presenting it to me.
"It's beautiful. I'll treasure it forever."
"You're mocking me."
I put a hand to my chest, gasping. “I would never.” He only grinned and wrapped his arm around me as we walked around some more.
Maggie found us near the cotton candy stand. "Ran out of informational materials," she announced proudly. "Had three serious inquiries about next spring's foals. And—" She narrowed her eyes at my head. "Is that my hat?"
“Your mom said I could borrow it."
Maggie sighed. "She says a lot of things. Fine. Keep it. It looks better on you anyway."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Just tell Liam to stop making heart eyes at you in public. It's embarrassing for everyone."
Liam was absolutely making heart eyes at me. He didn't seem inclined to stop.
The fireworks started at nine—bursts of color exploding over the town square, reflected in the windows of the old brick buildings. The Blackwoods had gathered on a patch of grass near the gazebo, blankets spread out, everyone piled together in a comfortable heap.
I sat between Liam's legs, my back against his chest, his arms wrapped around me.
Ivy was curled up with Wyatt to our left.
Sophia had finally succumbed to exhaustion, her head on Clay's shoulder, half-asleep but stubbornly refusing to leave.
Louisa and Owen held hands like teenagers, watching the sky with identical expressions of contentment.
A firework exploded overhead—red and gold, showering sparks across the sky.
"I could live here," I heard myself say.
Liam went very still.
"I mean—" I backtracked quickly. "I'm not saying—that wasn't—"
"Did you mean it?” His voice was low, serious. I turned in his arms so I could see his face, lit by the colors bursting overhead.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "Maybe. Yes. I don't know how it would work, but...yes. I could see it. A life here. With you. With them." I gestured at the family around us. "Is that crazy?"
"No." His hand cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "That's not crazy at all."
We watched the rest of the fireworks in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was full—full of possibility, of hope, of something that felt like a future taking shape.
When the last burst faded and the smoke drifted across the stars, Louisa started packing up the blankets. "Same time next year," she announced. "I expect everyone present and accounted for."
She said it to the group, but her eyes lingered on me.
"Yes, ma'am," I said softly.
Her smile was worth everything.
The drive home was quiet in the best way—that satisfied, happy-tired quiet that came after a perfect day. Liam drove one-handed, his other hand laced with mine on the console between us.
"Thank you," I said as we turned onto the ranch road.
"For what?"
"For not letting me hide." I squeezed his hand. "For sharing your family with me."
"They're your family too, Steph. If you want them."
I thought about Louisa's hugs and Owen's quiet approval.
About Ivy's easy friendship and Maggie's grudging hat donation.
About the brothers who'd teased me like a sister and Sophia, exhausted from a night shift but refusing to miss seeing me.
About Tom Morrison, who'd lent his plane to a stranger because Liam asked.
"I want them," I said. "I want all of it."
Liam lifted our joined hands to his lips and kissed my knuckles. "Then it's yours."
That night, I fell asleep in his arms with the tiny stuffed horse on the nightstand, smelling like funnel cake and fireworks, feeling like I'd finally found something I hadn't known I was looking for.
Home.