He pulls the letter from his back pocket and holds it in the air. “What’s this?”
I shrug wearing the same smirk on my face from earlier. In a rush, he pulls away and tears it open.
“Well, don’t rip it to pieces.”
“Sorry,” he chuckles.
It’s amusing seeing his large fingers trying to open the thin delicate paper. When he finally retrieves the letter from inside, it only takes a moment for him to read it in its entirety seeing as how it’s only three words.
It was the first letter that I wrote that night. Before the ones to everyone who’d caused me so much pain. This one wasn’t a way for me to open up and vent into the void so I could let go of my past. It was a love letter to Warren and a way for me to take hold of my future.
Without a word, he folds the paper. His hands grip it tight and I hold my breath hoping he says something soon. I step closer to him, moving my hands to either side of his face.
“Warren—”
“I love you too.”
My eyes start watering and a lump of emotion gets stuck in my throat. Suddenly, his arms are around my waist and he’s lifting me off the ground. I feel like I’m floating as he spins us around one time. I don’t fight the tear-filled giggles that bubble out of me, and it feels good to permanently remove the urge to hide how I feel.
When he stops I see the look on his face—so full of longing and promise. Like he thinks it’s a privilege just to hold me.
“I love you,” I say for the first time out loud. I know he just read the words but I want him to hear it too.
“Again.”
“I love you,” I say louder this time. He laughs and sets me down on the ground so that he can place one hand under my chin and the other threaded through my hair.
“I’d request that in writing, but I guess I already have that too,” he smiles and leans down to hover his lips over mine. I rise to my tiptoes to deepen the kiss.
It’s playful and sweet—smiling and kissing at the same time. I love it. I lovehim.
When I left the city, I’d hoped a change in my life would come that would ease the emotional pain and disappointment that I’d suffered through for so long. More times than I could count, I’d closed my eyes and wished for a new chance to become who I wanted to be. With people that lift me, not bring me down.
Somehow, someway, it all came true.
I step back and take Warren’s hand. “Let’s go home.”
EPILOGUE
WARREN
SIX MONTHS LATER
Hours are long in the shop this time of year. They’re never short, to be fair. But it’s great for business and I can’t complain too much. It makes walking through the doors of the bunkhouse at night feel that much sweeter.
I’d hoped Savannah and I might be moved out by now and have a place of our own. My savings account is looking good, and we could buy a place tomorrow if we wanted. But we agreed we’d like to build a house exactly how we want it on some land close to my family and the ranch. Nothing has come on the market that we love yet, so we’re just waiting for the right spot to pop up.
For now, we’re happy at the ranch anyway. It feels like home and in some ways, I think it always will, even when we eventually leave.
I arch an eyebrow seeing a sea of vehicles in front of the bunkhouse when I pull up. Tripp’s Bronco and Heston’s truck are parked in their usual spots next to Savannah’s SUV. It’s the blacked-out van with two sedans behind it that has me cutting off the engine and jumping out of the driver’s seat.
No one gets on this ranch without Gage knowing, so I’m not too panicked. Still, I stride quickly toward the door and swing it open. I wasn’t prepared for the scene in front of me in the living room.
Formal clothes hanging on mobile racks, flowers, and wedding decorations.Everywhere.
Heston stands on a short pedestal, nostrils flared and scowling at the man bending in front of him who’s holding a tape measure between Heston’s legs. Colorful swatches of fabric litter the entire surface of the sectional, mood boards line the wall, and several men and women with tablets in their hands shuffle around the room.
The rustic bunkhouse has been transformed into a fucking bridal store.
