We merged our properties, blending my ranch with her sustainable farm—something I never thought I’d do with anyone. But this?
This was never just about land.
It was about building a life together.
Looking at it now, I know we made the right choice.
Her fields stretch wide, already thriving, each row planted with purpose. Corn and pumpkins, just in time for the fall harvest. Grapevines that will take years to yield fruit, but already rooted strong. The greenhouse is packed with herbs, root vegetables, greens she’s testing, always learning, always growing.
And then there’s my side—pastures expanding, new animals brought in, barns reinforced, the land being used exactly the way it was meant to be.
A blend of both our dreams. Both our hard work.
Not just a season.
It’s a forever. Our forever.
The back door creaks open, and I don’t have to turn to know who it is.
Soft, footsteps move across the wooden planks, and then arms wrap around my waist, a warm face pressing against my back.
Nysa.
“Morning, baby,” I murmur, setting my coffee aside so I can pull her in front of me, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She hums sleepily, fingers curling into my shirt, eyes still hazy from sleep.
“You’re up early.”
I smirk. “So are you.”
She sighs, stretching up onto her toes to brush a slow, lingering kiss over my lips before resting her head against my chest.
“It’s hard not to wake up when the man I love leaves me in a warm bed alone,” she teases.
I chuckle, fingers trailing down her spine. “Didn’t want to leave, but had to check on the horses.”
“You love those horses more than me,” she grumbles against my chest, but there’s no bite to it.
I smirk. “No, they’re just a little more demanding than you.”
She pinches my side, making me grunt, then laughs softly, her warmth sinking into me.
This woman.
This brilliant, stubborn, too-smart-for-her-own-good woman.
She changed everything.
And I’m never letting her go.
We stand there for a while, watching as Maddie’s laughter floats through the crisp morning air. She’s in the chicken coop, feeding them grain under Nolan’s—one of our farmhands—watch, her curls bouncing, her whole face alight with joy.
“She’s so happy here,” Nysa murmurs, watching her.
“She has everything she needs,” I say simply.
Because she does.
