He doesn’t answer right away. But after a beat he shrugs, and it comes out easy. Like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
“They reminded me of you. Bright. A little wild. Always reaching for the light.” His eyes flick down to the ones in my hand, then back to mine. “Felt right, bringing sunshine to sunshine.”
And just like that, something inside me folds.
Not from the words themselves, but from the way he says them. So plain. So certain. Like it isn’t a confession, just a fact that’s lived in him for years. Something he’s always known.
There’s no performance in it. No need to be noticed or thanked. Just something simple and steady, like breath.
A boy picking daisies summer after summer.
A man still handing them over like it’s instinct.
He studies me for a long moment, his expression shifting into something softer, something more certain.
“One day,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing along my jaw, “I want all of you, Lark. Not just in moments like this. Not just on borrowed time. I want it all.” His hand slides down, rests against my hip. “I want to keep picking daisies for you for as long as you’ll let me.”
I force myself to breathe through the ache in my chest.
This isn’t like last time.
That’s what I keep telling myself. That’s what I have to believe.
Because I want this—I want him. More than I should, more than is probably safe. Even though it doesn’t make any fucking sense and a big, neon warning sign should be flashing above his head. But logic doesn’t stand a chance against the way he looks at me, against the way he’s always looked at me.
I want Boone Wilding to be the person I wake up next to for the rest of my life. The one I bicker with over what to watch on TV, the one I grow old with on our porch, rocking chairs side by side. I want to sit outside at theend of a long day, his hand wrapped around mine, knowing there’s no one else in the world I’d rather be beside.
I want him.
For good.
I exhale slowly, letting my fingers drift to the last daisy still sitting in his palm. He watches me as I pluck it from his grasp, his expression careful, waiting.
I brush a hand through his thick, dark waves, and tuck the daisy behind his ear. My fingers linger against his skin and I let myself soak in the warmth of him, the steadiness.
His lips twitch, his hands finding my waist. “I don’t think this is my look, baby.”
I grin, letting my hands fall to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my palm.
“That’s what I want too,” I murmur, my voice quieter now. “All of it.”
I glance up at him, eyes searching his. Something flickers across his face, something deep and sure, and then his lips are on mine again. It’s softer this time, slower—not the desperate, hungry way we always seem to find each other, but something else entirely. Something certain. Something that makes my chest ache in the best possible way.
When we pull back, I trace my fingers along the daisy tucked behind his ear and bite back a smirk. “You have to keep this here for all of dinner.”
Boone sighs dramatically, shaking his head like I’ve just asked him to carry a hundred-pound sack of feed across the ranch. “You’re gonna owe me for this.”
I arch a brow, trailing a finger down his chest. “Oh yeah? What’s the price?”
His hands tighten at my waist, his voice dropping lower. “I’ll let you know later.”
A shiver runs down my spine, but I force myself to roll my eyes, pushing at his chest lightly. “Come on, cowboy. Dinner’s waiting.”
Boone grins wider before stealing one last kiss.
I don’t know how we got here, how after all these years we found ourway back to each other. But standing here, the feel of his hands on my skin, the warmth of his breath still lingering against my lips, I know one thing for sure.
I don’t want to lose this.
