I took her in.
All I could see was her profile—the slope of her nose, the set of her jaw, the dark waves of her hair where it curled at her ear. Her throat moved on a swallow, but she didn't make a peep.
So I watched her breathe.
Reckoned I could look at her forever.
That was the whole of it. That was the bone-deep feeling I'd been reelin' in for weeks. I'd never get tired of her forked tongue, her quick wit, her shit-stirrin'. But more than that, I knew she needed me the same way I needed her—forever.
Bein' a boyfriend wasn't new. But bein' the one man a woman needed? It was everything. Filled me up with a warm, happy feelin' in the pit of my stomach that I was never lettin' go of.
Unless she ran.
But fuck, I hoped she chose forever instead of livin' one tomorrow at a time.
Her chin lifted a quarter-inch.
Then finally—finally—she turned her head and looked at me.
Bottom lip tremblin', eyes glassy. Glassy, but fixed on mine—not dartin' around lookin' for an exit.
My breath lodged someplace in the back of my throat as I waited.
Then she turned and faced me fully with a simple, "Okay."
The word was quiet but strong, said with conviction.
I exhaled and my shoulders dropped from my ears.
"Okay."
I held her eyes for another second. Then, with my back still to 'em, I lifted the hand that wasn't holdin' me up and waved it once—lazy, half-hearted—at my mom and Rhett. An over-the-shouldergo on, now. Didn't turn to check whether they got it. Didn't give a shit.
Calvin was stayin'.
I stepped forward and bent to pick up her bag.
"What the hell do you think you're doin'?"
I froze bent at the waist, hand stretched toward the strap, spine doin' something it was not currently in the mood to do. I peeked up, and Calvin's glare rooted me in place like she'd nailed my boots to the earth.
"You just got thrown off a goddamn horse, Brody Lancaster, and you have a limp."
Behind me, my mother laughed. The bright, startled kind.
"Well," she called out, sunny as a Sunday mornin'. "Looks like things'll be just fine around here. Rhett, honey, let me drive you home."
I didn't turn. Just kept my eyes on Calvin while she stepped forward and grabbed the strap of the duffel herself. I straightened up slow—slower than I meant to—and the wince got away from me before I could catch it.
She caught it, and pressed her lips into a line.
She shut the truck door.
A little hip-check to get it flush with the frame, that particular habit of hers I'd noticed in the first week she lived on the ranch and filed away as a thing I loved without yet knowin' I was filin' anythin' at all.
"Let's go," she said.
I followed her.
