Page 156 of We Drank the Dawn

When I tried again, a barely audible “wait” lifted from my lips at the exact second he passed me.

Peter halted.

And time seemed to stop, too, as Peter whirled around and lifted his head. He frowned up at the bleachers, confused.

My lungs pressurized as I held my breath.

Stepping closer, he looked up. “Sarah?”

He had heard me?

My voice came, strangled, “It’s me.”

A sharp intake of breath lifted his shoulders as relief softened the features of his face and his mouth dropped open. He said my name on a shaky exhale. “Sarah.” Lurching toward the barrier, he lifted his hand.

Magnetized, I reached down, grazing his hand.

He swam in my vision.

He gripped my fingers, squeezing them, his thumb instantly skimming my knuckles, as if he was making sure it was really me. I blinked tears away, frantically trying to soak him in. Dark stubble lined his jaw and his skin was warm and tan. He shook his head in disbelief. “What—what are you doing here?”

“I had to see you.”

His expression was so soft, so eager for me, as his other hand came up, offering for my left hand. So we stood there, holding each other’s hands, with my torso bent over the barrier.

My gaze darted to the dark, thick band on his ring finger. “You’re wearing your wedding ring.”

“I haven’t taken it off,” he whispered.

“I miss mine.” My words choked off. “Can I—have it back?”

Emotion stormed his eyes, and his fingers flexed over mine. “We can arrange that.”

I laughed through my tears. “I’m actually wearing my suns.”

His hand slid up my right wrist, fingers toying with the charms that represented so many years of love. Peter wasn’t a heart-on-his-sleeve guy, but a tear trickled onto his cheek as he lifted my hand to kiss my wrist.

A thousand butterflies erupted in my stomach.

I rushed to say everything I’d planned. “You said in your letter that you wanted a redo of our week together at Meadowbrook. Remember that?”

“Yes.”

“Can we do that? Have a redo?”

A deep swallow pulled at his throat. “There is nothing I would love more.”

A relieved smile lifted my cheeks. “Okay.”

“Stay right here, alright? Don’t move a muscle.” His soft tone morphed, turning business-like. “I need to go to the judge’s box to forfeit my next ride, but I’ll be right back.”

“Forfeit? Why?”

“Because I want to be with you.”

Oh, what those words did to my heart. My knees nearly collapsed with relief. “Don’t forfeit. You were amazing. I’ll sit right here⁠—”

He cut me off, shaking his head. “I don’t want to anymore.”