Page 96 of Where We Burn


Font Size:

“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’tthink 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 thatholy shit he’s a country starkind 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 sighsdramatically, 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.