28. Piper #2
“Tastes like you’re mine.” He leans in, kissing me slowly in a way that doesn’t match the brutal way he just owned me, but god, it ruins me even more.
“Tastes like you’re my woman.” He breathes against my skin before his lips find my ear.
“Tastes like everything I’ve ever wanted is right here in front of me. ”
Tonight, it feels like the whole town has packed itself into The Velvet Stag to celebrate Preston and Ivy. Gold decorations shimmer across the walls of Callan’s bar, and fairy lights weave between glittering decorations, transforming the rough cowboy bar into something magical.
It’s a shrine to fifty years of pure, unbreakable love and choosing each other every single day.
Preston stands near the bar in his best button-down shirt, his weathered hands wrapped around Ivy’s waist like she’s still the young woman he married all those years ago.
The way he looks at her, like she hung the moon and personally arranged every star in the sky just for him, is enough to make your heart ache with the beauty of it.
I’ve known Preston for barely a year, but somehow he’s already filled a space in my life that I didn’t even realize was empty.
He’s been more of a father to me than my biological dad ever managed to be.
Even before Christian and I were together, Preston always checked in and looked out for me in a way that said, You’re safe now .
Back when I was with Travis, he took me under his wing and made space for me, like he knew I needed it, even if I hadn’t realized it yet.
God, even thinking about that asshat leaves a shitty taste in my mouth. The bastard doesn’t even deserve the breath it takes to curse him.
While part of me hurts for what Christian lost when Travis walked out that night, I’m not sorry he’s gone.
After the way he treated him… Hell, if I’d been there, I wouldn’t have wasted my breath on him.
I wouldn’t have asked questions or warned him.
I’d have put my fist through his face so hard he’d still be picking teeth out of his throat three days later.
As soon as Preston spots us, he makes a beeline straight for me and kisses the back of my hand before clapping Christian on the back and pulling him into a hug.
“Happy anniversary,” Christian says, his face lighting up. “Where’s that beautiful wife of yours gone?”
Preston’s face breaks into the kind of sunshine smile that deepens the lines around his eyes and makes him look every bit the cowboy he is.
He tips his cream-colored hat back and nods toward the far corner of the bar, where a stretch of worn wood has been cleared and strung with fairy lights to create a makeshift dance floor for the night.
“Colt’s got her out there spinning around. Look at them.” We follow his gaze to where Ivy is giggling and swaying with Colton, and her cheeks are flushed pink as he twirls her around. “Look how happy she is.”
“She’s been looking forward to tonight for weeks,” Christian says as his palm settles on the small of my back just as Callan calls out from behind the bar.
“Well, look who finally decided to show up.”
“We can’t all sleep until noon and only work when the sun goes down.”
“Hey, don’t come for me.” Callan chuckles, tossing the rag over his shoulder with a lazy smirk. “The old man’s been waiting for a dance with your girl since he walked through the door.”
“Who you callin’ old man, boy?” Preston barks, that spark of mischief lighting his face. “I’ll knock you into next week, and don’t think I won’t. Your daddy would’ve wanted me to if it meant making you respectable.”
That has them all laughing—Christian, Callan, and even Preston himself. But I just step away from my cowboy, turn to Preston, and slip my fingers through his offered elbow.
“Come on, Preston. Show me your moves.” He chuckles, tipping his hat like the charming rascal he is.
“Well, if you insist.” He leads me onto the dance floor, where Ivy and Colt are still swaying slow and easy to some old country ballad.
It’s been a few hours filled with laughter, drinks, and being surrounded by some of my favorite people in the world when I finally find myself sitting at a corner table with Savannah and Ivy.
“There’s gotta be some kind of secret to how you and Preston have managed to stay together all these years,” Savannah teases, nudging Ivy playfully with her elbow.
Ivy turns toward her with a mischievous glint lighting up her silver eyes. The kind of look that says, Buckle up, sweetheart, because you’re about to get more honesty than you bargained for.
“It’s simple, really. I’m in charge of the house, and he’s in charge of the bedroom. We both know our roles, and it’s all about balance.”
My jaw drops, and Savannah practically chokes on her drink, gasping as she fans herself with one hand, and a laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it.
“Oh wow,” Savannah manages between giggles, her face turning bright pink.
Ivy just winks, and that glint in her eye grows brighter. “Honey, after fifty years, you either figure out how to keep things interesting, or you find yourself sitting across the kitchen table from a stranger.”
“Wait, you’re still…?” I can’t help the shock that laces my tone.
“We absolutely are,” Ivy says without a hint of shame.
God, I love these people .
“Threaten his balls when you need to,” Ivy says with a soft chuckle, “but don’t ever go to bed angry. Always say, ‘I love you,’ even when you’re so mad you could wring his neck. That’s the trick, sweetie. Anyone can do it. You just have to want it enough. ”
Savannah wipes at her eyes, still laughing, but then her voice softens. “Do you have any regrets though? Anything you’d change?”
Ivy’s eyes drift away, and she goes somewhere deep inside her mind. I can almost see it physically happening.
“I would’ve loved to be a mama,” she says, her red lipstick catching the light. “We helped Ellis raise those three boys after Sherri passed, and I love them like they’re my own blood, I really do, but…”
“But it’s not the same,” Savannah finishes quietly for her, her voice gentle, understanding in a way that makes my chest hurt.
Suddenly, I see a flash of something in Savannah’s eyes—a longing, maybe, or a hint of sadness that I’ve never noticed before.
Savannah’s the same age as Christian, and I know her marriage to Mark ended ugly. She never talks about him. She never really talks about what she lost, either, but I see it—the part of her that still wonders what it might’ve been like if life had dealt her a different hand.
She would’ve been an incredible mom.
“Savannah?” Colt’s voice slices through the easy hum of laughter and music, drawing all our attention his way.
He stands a few feet away, grinning and tipping his hat toward us before settling it back on his head like a gentleman.
He’s unfairly handsome—not in that holy shit he’s a country star kind of way that used to make my head spin, but in that classic Crawford way.
All three brothers inherited those God-given genes, but Colt still carries that youthful glow, that boyish charm.
His cropped, dark hair and piercing golden eyes are the only things that set him apart from his brothers.
I remember seeing a photograph of Christian’s mother once, and Colt could’ve been her twin, while Christian and Callan are unmistakably their father’s sons. But Colt’s his mother’s ghost walking around in cowboy boots.
It’s heartbreakingly ironic, isn’t it? How the one parent you never get to know is the one who shines out of you every time you look in the mirror.
“You haven’t given me a single dance tonight,” Colt says, his eyes fixed on Savannah.
He holds out his hand, palm facing up, and Savannah sighs dramatically, tucking her long blonde hair behind her ears like she’s pretending to be put out, but the way her smile spreads across her face gives her away.
She slips her hand into his, and he pulls her up like it’s the only thing he’s been waiting to do all night.
They join the crowd of couples, including Violet and Dillon, who are laughing and swaying together.
It’s good to finally see them in a place where friendship can blossom on the other side of heartbreak.
They’re just two people who care about each other, finding their way back to something comfortable, even if it’s different from what they once thought they wanted.
My gaze shifts, finding Christian, Preston, and Callan standing near the bar, watching the scene unfold.
Even now, all these months later, Callan and Violet are still tangled up in whatever the hell it is they’re pretending isn’t happening.
But anyone with a brain could see that if Callan had half the chance, he’d haul Violet off that dance floor, pin her up against the nearest wall, and fuck the attitude right out of her.
“He’s always had a crush on her, you know,” I hear Ivy say, and I spin around to face her.
“Callan?”
“Callan? Honey, no. Colt. He always ran around after Savannah like a little lost puppy.”
“Really?” I laugh, watching as Colt towers over Savannah on the dance floor, his arm casually around her waist, and her hand tucked in his.
“Pretty sure he’s always been head over heels for her. That’s probably why he’s never brought a woman home.”
“Maybe he’s not into women,” I joke, raising an eyebrow.
Ivy just laughs, shaking her head. “No, sweetie. He’s into one woman. Always has been.”
But to me, Colton and Savannah just look like two people who’ve known each other forever and are completely at ease in each other’s company.
I’m still smiling at the sight of them when I feel two large hands on my shoulders.
I’d know those hands anywhere .
“You mind if I steal my girl for a spin on the dance floor, Ivy?” Christian asks.