Her hand tightens in mine. “We’refree.”
We keep walking until the sun dips behind the ridge. For years, I thought solitude was safety. But now, looking at her, hair golden in the dying light, I understand it was just another kind of cage. She didn’t just survive the storm. She brought me through mine.
At the cabin, she turns to me, eyes glowing amber in the light. “You were right, you know.”
“About what?”
“Storms don’t last forever.”
I tip my hat back, smile slow. “Maybe not, but I’ll be damned if you didn’t make it through prettier than the sunrise.”
She laughs, soft and real, and the sound just about knocks the breath out of me.
After dinner, we sit on the porch swing together with steaming mugs of cider, the world quiet again. Lacey wraps her hands around her drink, face relaxed, blossoming with a newfound calm. Like a heavy weight has been lifted.
The stars creep out, shy after all the thunder. But when they take over the show, they twinkle vividly against the light-free black velvet sky.
Lacey stares in wonder, breathless as she says, “Never saw anything like this in Seattle.Thisis breathtaking. Do you ever get used to it?”
I remove my Stetson, set it on the table beside me, and crane my head heavenward. “Nope, it’s like the beauty of the Lone Grizzly Mountains, the prairie lands at sunset, and your face bythe glow of firelight. Too stunning to remember, too beautiful to forget.”
Her eyes burn with love, body melts as she places her head against my shoulder. “A farmer and a poet.”
“A cowboy and a lover, and the only protector you’ll ever need.”
“From life’s storms, inside and out,” she adds, looking up at me, eyes dropping to my lips.
My head dips, takes her mouth tenderly. Comfortable silence settles between us as we listen to the crickets chirp, eyes returning to the astronomical marvel overhead.
“Feels strange, doesn’t it? To have peace,” she says.
I wrap an arm around her, kiss the top of her head. “Get used to it, Pepper. This is what forever feels like.”
A breeze drifts through, carrying the scent of apples and rain.
I tighten my hold, the warmth of her pressed against me.
The storm’s over, but she’s still my shelter, and I’m hers.
The fire crackles low in the metal firepit, stars hum overhead, and the whole valley smells like renewal.
Tomorrow, the sun will rise over a world that finally feels like home.
Epilogue
LACEY
TWO WEEKS LATER
The meadows blaze gold, craggy, snow-dusted mountains towering behind.
Everywhere I look, the world glows. Orange pumpkins lined along bright green hay bales, aspen and birch leaves amber against the cloudless, cerulean sky, where great flocks of migrating birds pass.
Murmurations of fast-moving starlings, gaggles of lumbering Canada geese, and a conspiracy of sleek ravens. Along the edge of the farm fields, a rafter of wild turkeys picks through harvested grain, gobbling and bobbing their heads.
A young buck stands in the shadow of the trees, wide-eyed and curious before startling and gamboling out of sight. The smell of caramel and apple butter wind through the crisp air.
Harvest Festival. My first real one.
