Page 127 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

“Holy shit, I still haven’t told you the wildest thing of all. No doubt Mom already told you, but I’ve got to tell you myself.” I wait, studying my dad’s face, gearing up to tell him the best news of my life, knowing I won’t get the reaction I’d wished for.

“Delilah married me. Can you fuckin’ believe it? Other than CJ, you’re the only person I ever confessed my true feelings to, though everyone seemed to know anyway. All those years spent wallowing, pining over my dream girl—she was in love with me too, both of us too scared to say anything and ruin the friendship.

“She’s incredible, Dad. You always loved her to death, but you should see the woman she’s become. She overcame her struggles, her parents are no longer poisoning her life, and she worked her ass of and finished her psychology degree. She used it to start an equine assisted learning program here at the ranch to help people work through their own struggles. You’d be so damn proud of her, Dad.”

Tears prick the backs of my eyes, because more than missing my dad for myself and Quincy, I miss him for Delilah. My parents always loved and accepted Delilah and Isabelle into our home and did their best to help where they could. Now, not only does Delilah not have parents, but she also doesn’t have parents-in-law to lean on and share her life with. Dad literally cannot, and Mom’s lost herself in caring for him.

As always, my heart twinges wishing things were different, but I’ve accepted his Alzheimer’s isn’t going away, and that it’s okay to miss who he used to be and grieve that loss, while still loving and supporting who he is now.

“I love you, Dad,” I say, squeezing his shoulder lightly, leaving to get Mom or Quincy to take my place.

I’m a few steps away from the bustling kitchen when my wife nearly bowls me over.

“Oh my god, have you had a lemon bar yet?” Delilah says with a mouth full of lemon curd and shortbread, somehow sounding like she’s making love to the damn thing.

“Get a room already,” I joke, grabbing her tight ass to hold her against me.

She swats my chest and feeds me the last bite.

“Dinner’s ready, your mom made a plate for your dad already,” she assures me.

We file into the dining room, starving for Mrs. Andersen’s cooking. Plates are loaded buffet style and drinks are passed. Mom gave Delilah her lemonade recipe for her birthday—talk about a sob-fest—and I swear she makes it every chance she gets.

I drag Delilah closer to me by the underside of her chair, so our thighs are pressed together. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and eat one-handed.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, dollface. You looked like you belonged in that pen with Hope. And based on the chatter I overheard, those women were highly impressed. I bet your next workshop sells out with a waitlist.”

Delilah smiles, a faint blush covering her cheeks. “You really think so?”

“I know so. You were meant to do this.”

How is this my life? How often does a person get everything they’ve ever wanted without giving up a thing?

I’m married to the woman of my dreams, the one person I’ve loved since I was a snot-nosed kid. I’m surrounded by the best friends a guy could ask for. I’ve been welcomed with open arms into a family that found me when I needed them the most. And we’ve rallied around my dad for his care.

Mrs. Andersen, Liv, Izzy, and Delilah take turns checking on Mom and Quincy. Taking them to lunch or drinking coffee on the porch. Anything to make them feel like individual humans for a little while, not only caretakers. They both seem lighter now that the Andersens have been spreading their unique brand of love and support.

A knife clinks against the lemonade pitcher. Izzy stands and clears her throat.

“Raise your glass for a toast to the world’s greatest Equine Assisted Learning Facilitator”—we all chuckle, because it really is a mouthful—“that Swiftwater Valley’s ever seen. I think I speak for all of us, when I say we’re boundlessly proud of you, Delilah, and know you’ll help so many people.”

“Cheers,” everyone says together.

Reid scoots his chair back, scraping on the hardwood floors and stands to join his wife.

“This ranch has been in the Andersen family for generations, and when I thought all hope was lost, we brought it back to life in a new, unexpected way. The ranch has always been the one place I found peace, and all I wanted was to share that with other people.” He wraps his arm around Izzy who looks at him like he hung the moon.

“Isabelle always dreamed of having a place like the ranch she could go and feel like she belonged. So, that’s what we created. Lucky Spurs Ranch was born from love and built by this family’s belief in me. Little did I know, the ranch would flourish with everyone’s dedication and unmatched skills. We’ve got a herd of rescue horses living their best lives doing trail rides, being pet and groomed by giddy school children, and now working with our girl Delilah to heal people’s souls. The horses are in perfect comfort thanks to Connor’s hard work and commitment. These horses have never had nicer horseshoes in their life—he’s out here giving luxury pedicures to the damn beasts,” Reid jokes.

The table chuckles with warm affection, squeezing my heart like a hug.

“Olivia, James, and Greyson, you give so much of your free time to the ranch asking nothing in return, and from all of us that work on the ranch, we are boundlessly grateful. Mom and Dad, I hope we’ve made you proud. And Quincy, I hope we’ve done right by Sam honoring his memory.”

My sister wipes tears from her eyes, always alone in a room full of people.

Mr. and Mrs. Andersen embrace, heartbroken and bursting with pride simultaneously—watching two of their sons thrive while the other lives only in their memories.

Reid clears his throat from the emotions suffocating him. “Cheers to the Lucky Spurs Ranch family, and especially to Delilah for her successful first workshop.”