Page 67 of High Water

“I think you’ve helped plenty.” I raise a brow at her.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She laughs.

When I reemerge from the bathroom, she’s already in PJs and drinking water. She tries to suppress a smirk when she sees my jeans. They’re only a little stained. Like maybe I dropped a little condensation off my beer on myself when I was in the bar. Enough that I can use my hat to make my way out as advised.

“Looks like you got everything covered.”

“Water. Electrolytes. Painkillers for the morning. I’m good. Dakota gave us all little hangover kits.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it and see you tomorrow.” I have a million other things I want to say to her, but I don’t want to push my luck, given how much she’s already allowed tonight.

“Wait,” she calls

“What?” I stop, my hand on the door handle.

“A kiss. We should have practiced. To make sure we sell it for tomorrow.”

“You think we need practice?”

“You think we don’t?” Her hands settle on my chest, and she looks up at me with amusement dancing behind them. “Then prove it.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I lean down, slipping my hand under her jaw and bringing my lips close to hers. I’ve wanted this a thousand—no, a million times—in the time between us then and us now. Or at least the hope of an us that exists now. I hover so close I can feel the anticipation in her, her heart quickening at the proximity. Then I taste her, one soft brush of my lips over hers, and then another. She kisses me back, tentative at first and then with purpose like she’s trying to remember. That makes two of us. Because right now, I’m wondering how I ever walked away from her, and I’m so lost in it when she finally pulls away and meets my gaze that I can only think one thing.

Aspen Stockton is about to be my wife, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make it permanent.

TWENTY-SIX

Bishop

“You ready?” Levi pats me on the back, checking in on me before he takes his place at my side.

We decided only to have Levi and Fallon up here at the makeshift altar with us. Someone to hold the rings and someone to hold her flowers while we put them on. It also seems fitting that one was the person who brought us together in the first place, and the other is the one holding us together now, despite all the odds.

“As I’ll ever be.” I flash him a grin that I hope looks more confident than I feel.

It wouldn’t shock me if Aspen took off running. I hope she doesn’t. I trust she won’t. But I can’t deny the slight possibility, and that makes my stomach tumble. Doubly so when I see our daughter appear in the doorway at the back of the room and I scan the room full of her family, a few close family friends, including the Briggs brothers and the Kellys, and my grandmother sitting next to Chase, who looks a little less than excited to be here. I’m sure he’d be relieved if Aspen didn’t make it to the altar.

Fallon slowly marches down the aisle created by two long rows of wildflowers. Her eyes lead her steps, one foot in front of the other, to the beat of the music until she reaches the end. She lifts her gaze, flashing a bright smile at me and her Uncle Levi before she takes her spot across from me. I’m reminded that I’m getting everything I ever wanted today. Everything I spent long nights hoping for and near-death moments wishing I could make happen someday. It almost doesn’t seem real. At least not until Aspen appears in the doorway.

My bride’s in a long black gown. One that fits every curve of her lithe body with just enough of a train on the hem that it trails behind her as she walks, and she almost seems ethereal. The color isn’t lost on me. I should have known she’d never wear white. But it’s her favorite, and my favorite on her, so I can guess she did that for my benefit. It’s an olive branch on a day like today, when I’m positive she’s wondering if she should be doing any of this at all.

Her eyes dart over to Fallon, beaming with pride when they both meet, and a smile breaks out on her face. Her gaze shifts to me, and I hold it tight. Doing everything I can to silently tell her how fucking thankful I am in this moment. My lower lip quivers the slightest bit, and I pull it in and pinch it between my teeth to keep myself grounded as she takes her place across from me.

The ceremony goes by in a flash. I barely remember any of the details that come before the moment I’m set to slip the ring on her finger. Levi hands me her ring, and I slide mine off my right hand and pass it to her. Her brow flickers with the question she can’t speak right now, but she takes it all the same. We exchange them, mine for hers and hers for mine, and her eyes snag on the ring I place on her finger. I’d give anything to be able to hear her thoughts right now.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife,” the officiant Grant found for us announces, and our small crowd of friends and family breaks out into cheers.

I should kiss her gently. Practice the thing we’d rehearsed last night that we could pull off. But my arms wrap around her waist, and I pull her close, bending to kiss her as she raises onto her tiptoes to meet me. She’s tall, just like everyone in her family, but still not nearly as tall as I am, and it’s in her stretch that her hand reaches for my shoulder for purchase. An incidental touch that turns real as her hand slips up the back of my neck and threads through the curls at my nape. Her mouth presses to mine in soft, deliberate strokes that grow hungrier with each pass, and if I didn’t know better—I’d swear this was real. Aspen Stockton is claiming me for her own in front of everyone that matters in this town.

A loud wolf whistle from Dakota’s direction brings her back to the here and now, and she pulls away, turning her head and shaking it, but smiling as though she’s gotten away with something when her eyes meet mine again. I take her hand and lift it to even louder cheers before we make our way down the aisle.

“You’re in fine form,” I whisper quickly before the small crowd disperses into the hallway where we’re waiting.

“It’s my wedding. I intend to enjoy it.” She flashes me a mischievous grin and then turns on her charm as my grandmother approaches us.

“Grams! So glad you could make it,” she coos loudly, leaning down to squeeze my grandmother like she’s an old friend and not an antagonistic but well-meaning old lady looking to give her a hard time.

“I suppose you can call me that now, can’t you, child?” Grams side-eyes her but leans into the hug all the same. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to three generations of these women together on the holidays.