‘Have you forgiven her for running off all those years ago?’ Duke asks then.
‘Of course I have. It was hard but I understand why she did it. All that matters is that she wants to try again. That she trusts me now.’
Duke raises his brows. ‘And do you love her?’
I nod, my love practically aching in my bones for her. Clawing at my skin, begging to be let out and confessed to her again. ‘So badly.’
‘And she definitely loves you,’ Wyatt confirms, his smile breaking out and emboldening my belief in mine and Honey’s love. That it wasn’t our last rodeo after all. ‘No doubt about that.’
Wolfman drains his beer and slams it onto the coffee table before he jumps to his feet. ‘Then you need to quit moping on my couch and go get your woman back.’
In unison, Duke and Wyatt also finish off the rest of their beer, then also standing, arms folded as they tower over where I’m still sitting on the couch. It’s the fierce loyalty, the blazing dedication to my happiness, that radiates off them that has me standing with pride to join them. To wage war on the fear that keeps me from the woman I love. From devoting my life to building a beautiful family for her and Noah.
My friends cheer for me. Hugs are exchanged, backs patted, and hair ruffled as we bask in our friendship and man; am I so fucking glad to have these guys in my life.
‘Alright, let’s do this. But I need a couple of favours,’ I say, an idea pinging into my mind, bright and enticing. ‘I need the names of some therapists, and to borrow someone’s suit.’
38
Honey
Three taps sound at the window.
I should’ve gone to bed hours ago. Instead, it’s New Year’s Eve and I’m wrapped up in a blanket on the couch in the darkness, watching the hand of the clock on the mantelpiece tick by, waiting for the year to end. Seeing in a new year without the person I thought I’d finally get to experience forever with.
Twenty minutes to go.
Noah went to sleep a couple of hours ago, too tired to stay up. My mom followed shortly after, aware that I wasn’t up for much celebrating tonight. Sooner or later the exhaustion of sitting here and wondering if this is my punishment again for thinking Sawyer and I could work will trick me into a light sleep.
I think back to what my mom told me—to wait here for him—but it’s been almost a week now and hoping is so close to becoming futile. Just like believing we could love each other without consequences has too. I wonder if I wasright, all those years ago, that we’d never know truly how to love. That maybe love wasn’t made for people like us, not when we’d struggled to understand it growing up.
I just really thought it was different this time.
I thought I had my fairytale ending—
Three taps sound at the window again, this time loud enough to catch my attention.
The windows are bare, curtains yet to be pulled, so as soon as I stand, blanket still clutched closely to my body, and peer out, I notice his truck. The same one he rescued me in all those years ago.
Then I seehim.
I half consider that maybe I’ve fallen asleep and I’m in a wistful dream because he’s standing in the snow, in front of his truck, in a suit that looks oddly similar to the one he picked me up in on prom night nine years ago. He’s even got a bolo tie and cowboy hat on. Like he’s come to rescue me again. From my heartbreak, perhaps this time.
The déjà vu has a faintness sweeping through my head, my body quaking as I struggle my way over to the front door.
He must sense my movement because where he’d raised a hand to throw more stones, he hesitates, slowly dropping it to his side. My fingers tremble as I wrap them around the handle and ease open the door, the immediate chill of the winter’s night nipping at my face. My steps are tentative, wary, as I edge my way outside, the faint sound of Brooks & Dunn’s ‘Again’—oursong—playing from his stereo, but my gaze is unyielding, unable to rip away from him.
And my heart—God, my heart is rattling against mychest, not from nerves, but because it’s trying to get through, to claw its way back to Sawyer, where it knows it belongs. Where it always had a home.
‘Hey, Blue,’ he says, eyes shining in the moonlight even from this distance. And—oh God, he’s holding another bunch of blue roses. The sight of them has tears springing into my eyes, an ache radiating behind my nose.
My teeth chatter, from the cold and the cries that are begging to pour out, while my throat is clogged, too many questions and words I want to say to him.
‘You came back,’ is all I manage at first, croaking it out. It’s more than just a statement—a question too.
For good?
He nods and I cling to the banister as I descend the porch steps to stop myself from collapsing with relief into the snow.