Chapter 16
Mid-October
Titus eased the truck to a stop at the Crazy Mountain overlook. Gravel crunched under the tires, the sound carrying into the cab, louder for the quiet it interrupted.
Cold October air bit into his cheeks, the last of the day’s sun spreading a pale gold across Kyla’s arms where her sleeves didn’t reach her wrists. He cut the engine and the cab settled, leaving only the ticking of cooling metal and their breathing.
He had driven this road more times than he could count. Tonight felt different. Too close to something he hadn’t planned for. She sat near enough that her elbow brushed his.
Kyla shifted, drawing in the chill, chin angled toward the side mirror where aspens clung to their last color. She stayed quiet. He traced the line of her throat, the loose strands of hair lifted by the breeze slipping through the window, dark curls catching along her jaw.
His hand stayed fixed on the steering wheel. Every instinct pushed him to reach. Habit stopped him. He had been raised to keep that distance, to wait. She would not wait forever.
That truth settled in him without argument. Sunlight crossed the dash. Her nails, blunt and square from work, tapped a slow rhythm against her thigh, and something tight pulled low in his chest.
The overlook felt emptier than usual. A line of cattle moved below, small from this height, edging along a fence. The sky darkened toward evening. Wind moved across the hood. The only sound between them came down to breath and the faint whine of the parking brake.
He stepped out. Cold met the sweat at his neck. His boots pressed into loose gravel as he walked around the truck, stirring the sharp scent of sage. He paused at her door, drew a steady breath, and opened it. Not for show. For her.
Kyla tipped her head, studying him. “Since when do you go full gentleman?”
He answered without speaking, palm up, waiting. Her hand slid into his. Warm. Certain. No hesitation.
Her boots met the ground. Wind moved across their faces. Dry leaves rattled overhead. She glanced toward the mounted binoculars, one brow lifting, then back to him with the hint of a smile. Her thumb pressed at the base of his hand. His skin tightened under the touch.
He led her toward the concrete barrier without rushing. Their hands swung once between them, easy, unforced. The valley opened below in long lines. Fences stretched across pasture. Barns stood spaced with purpose. Cattle moved slow along the land.
He kept his grip steady so she would understand. This was not routine. His thumb traced along her fingers, catching the rough places shaped by work.
She stepped closer until her shoulder met his. He stopped at the ledge. The air cut clean into his lungs. Cold settled across his skin, sharp and steady. She stayed beside him. No words. No need.
A gust lifted her hair. Loose curls brushed the inside of his forearm. He drew in a breath, not entirely from the cold. Her mouth curved as if she noticed. He kept his jaw set.
They stood together, taking in the land that shaped him and the woman who had shifted everything inside it. She scanned the valley with focus, as if searching for where she fit. His throat tightened. Words would not help. He let his hand say what he could not.
Everything narrowed to the space between the mountains and her hand against his. Titus set their joined hands on the rough concrete edge and kept them there. He released her only long enough to reach into his pocket.
The valley stretched wide below them. Fences, barns, cattle, all laid out in a way that made everything feel earned. Not pretty for the sake of it. Real.
“This is where I come when I need to think,” he said. His voice came out quieter than usual, but it held.
She glanced at him, then back out. “Figured it was something like that.”
A small pause settled between them. Not empty. Just enough space for what he meant to do. Their hands stayed linked. His thumb moved once over her knuckles, then stilled. He let the moment stand on its own. No rushing. No filling it with talk.
Then he drew a breath and let her hand go. Her gaze snapped to him. He didn’t make her wait.
The ring came from his pocket, warm from being carried. He turned it once between his fingers, not fidgeting, just feeling the familiar shape.
“I’ve had this a while,” he said. He stepped closer, enough that she had to meet him and not the view. “It was my mom’s.”
Kyla’s expression shifted, attention sharpening.
“I didn’t get why she wanted me to have it at first,” he added. “She told me one day I would.” A breath moved through him, steady this time. “I get it now.”
He took her hand again, slower, more careful, like the moment deserved that much. He turned her palm up and set the ring there. His fingers stayed against hers. Not gripping. Not pulling away.
“I don’t have anything fancy for you,” he said. “No speech I practiced. No big plan.” His thumb brushed once across her skin. “But I brought you here for a reason.”
She looked down at the ring, then back up at him. He didn’t look away.
“I want a life with you,” he said. “Not part of one. All of it. You and me, on that land, building something that’s ours from the ground up.”
A beat passed.
He went down on one knee. “Marry me, Kyla.”
Wind pressed against them, tugging loose strands of her hair across his wrist. He let it happen. Didn’t shift. She stared at him, really looked this time. Not quick. Not guarded. Then her fingers curled around the ring.
“You’ve been carrying this,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“You brought me here on purpose.”
“Yeah.”
Another pause. Her mouth softened, just enough to show him she understood exactly what he’d done. He hadn’t dressed it up. But he had chosen it. Chosen her. Chosen the moment. That mattered.
She pushed the ring onto her finger. It caught at the knuckle. She worked it through without hesitation until it settled in place. Then she stepped in close and grabbed his shirt. Her mouth found his.
He answered her, hands coming to her waist, pulling her in until there was no space left between them. The kiss deepened, slower on the second pass, like they both needed to feel it all the way through.
Her fingers slid into his hair at the back of his neck. His hand spread across her back, steady, keeping her right there with him.
When she pulled back, her forehead stayed near his. Her breath moved uneven, but her eyes held his. “You took your time,” she said.
There was no accusation in it. Just truth.
He let out a quiet breath. “Had to get it right.”
Her thumb brushed over the ring, testing the fit, then she looked at him again. “You did,” she said.
He leaned in and kissed her again, slower this time, letting it settle into something that would last longer than the moment itself. They stayed close when it ended, bodies lined up, hands still linked, the valley stretching out behind them like the start of everything that came next.
No rush to leave. No need to fill the silence. They had already said what mattered.
They remained there as the light faded. The valley darkened. Ranch lights appeared one by one. Fences softened into distance. The sky deepened toward night. Wind moved steady across the overlook.
Titus pressed his mouth to Kyla’s temple. Once. Then again. She covered his hand, keeping it there. He cupped her face, thumb brushing along her cheek. No doubt remained in her expression. She gave him a small smile. Open. Certain.
He stepped back just enough to reach the truck. He opened her door and waited while she climbed in. She turned on the seat, boots dragging across the mat. He reached in and pulled the seatbelt across her lap, clicking it into place. His knuckles brushed her thigh.
She caught his hand. “You buckling me in now?” Her tone carried that familiar edge, softened now.
He turned her hand slightly, his thumb moving across her skin. The ring caught the last of the light between them. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to her forehead. No hesitation. Then he stepped back and closed the door.
He moved around the truck, boots pressing into gravel, and slid into the driver’s seat. The cab filled with the quiet sound of fabric shifting and her soft breath. She watched him, her hand resting on the dash, thumb turning the ring.
He started the engine. For a moment, neither spoke. The radio murmured low. Heat gathered slowly inside the cab. She stretched her legs until their knees touched. Her hand turned palm up between them.
He took it. Their fingers fit together easily. He pulled the truck back onto the road. Headlights swept across the ground ahead. The overlook fell behind them. The road curved forward, steady and clear.
They drove in silence.
The ring caught the light with each turn.