Page 10 of The Policeman Bidder
That's when I know. This is the moment. Not the one I planned, but the one that's right.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the small velvet box I've been carrying around like a talisman for the past week.
Her eyes go wide as I drop to one knee right there in the muddy field where she teaches kids to love the earth the way she does.
"Junie Bloom," I say, opening the box to reveal the ring I spent three weeks choosing—a simple solitaire with tiny leaves etched into the band, because she deserves something as unique and beautiful as she is. "You've been challenging me since the day we met. Making me question everything I thought I knew about right and wrong, about what matters, about who I want to be."
Her hands fly to her mouth, tears spilling over her cheeks.
"I don't want to change you," I continue, my voice rough with emotion. "I want to stand beside you while you change the world. I want to plant trees with you and argue about recycling policies and watch you teach kids to find magic in dirt and leaves. I want to be your partner in every fight worth having."
She's crying in earnest now, but she's also smiling, and that gives me the courage to ask the question that could change everything.
"Will you marry me, tree girl?"
For a heartbeat, she just stares at me. Then she's dropping to her knees in the mud beside me, framing my face with her hands.
"Yes," she whispers, then louder, "Yes, you beautiful, complicated, tree-planting fool. Yes."
I slide the ring onto her finger with shaking hands, and it fits perfectly—like everything else about us that shouldn't work but somehow does.
When I kiss her, she tastes like tears and laughter and forever.
Epilogue
Junie
Threeyearslater
The Roots & Wings Harvest Festival is in full swing when Weston finds me by the memorial grove, watching Marcus—now eleven and still as enthusiastic about salamanders as ever—carefully planting a young oak sapling.
"That one's going to be beautiful," Weston tells him, and Marcus beams with pride.
"It's for my grandpa," he says. "He died last year, but Miss Junie says the tree will help me remember him."
My throat tightens. "That's exactly right."
After Marcus runs off to find his parents, Wes slides his arms around me from behind, pulling me back against his chest.
"Good festival," he murmurs against my ear.
"The best yet." I lean into his warmth. "Did you see how many families signed up for winter programming? We're going to need more volunteers."
"Already on it. Sheriff Daniels is making the community outreach program official next month. I'll have three deputies rotating through to help with the older kids."
I turn in his arms, still amazed sometimes that this is real. That he's real. Three years of marriage, and he still makes my pulse race when he looks at me like that.
"You know," I say, reaching up to straighten his Roots & Wings volunteer t-shirt, "when I chained myself to that tree, I never imagined it would lead to this."
"To what? Me finally winning you over with my devastating charm?"
"To finding someone who fights for the same things I do. Just differently."
His expression goes soft. "Different doesn't mean wrong."
"No," I agree, thinking of all the ways we've learned to blend his by-the-book approach with my burn-it-all-down passion. "Different means better."
He kisses me then, slow and sweet, right there in front of half the town. Three years ago, that would have mortified me. Now? Now I don't care who sees. Let them talk. Let them wonder how the tree-hugger and the cop made it work.
