Page 189

“We brought some family along—hope that’s okay.” I follow the hitch of her thumb. On the other side of the field, a group of cowboys stand with their wives. Two toddlers squeal as they run across the grass.

“More than. Stay. Eat. Drink.” I tip up my hat. “But first I want you to meet someone.” Once again, I look to Delilah. Like she’s felt me, she catches my eye, and I wave her over away from Nolan to make introductions.

“This is Fallon McGraw. One of the best bull riders there’s ever been.”

Though Fallon scoffs, Wyatt, sipping his whiskey, nods his agreement.

“So you’re Fallon. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Delilah beams, brown eyes lighting up, as she relaxes into my side.

“Nothing good, I hope.” Fallon barks a laugh. She turns her shrewd gaze to me, tracking over my arm that’s wrapped around Delilah’s waist, then up to my eyes. A feline smile curls her lips. “Thought you said you didn’t have time for a woman.”

Amusement creases Wyatt’s rugged face.

“This woman, I do.” I pull Delilah closer, just having her, having her here, makes me proud.

“Glad to see it, Weston.” Fallon smiles as she studies Delilah’s face. “And nice to meet you. Roping Cole must have been a feat.”

“Oh, it was quite the summer,” Delilah says with a giggle as she smiles up at me.

With a chuckle, I gesture around the party. “Like I said, make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” Wyatt takes his wife’s hand, pulling her in the direction of their waiting family. “See you around, Weston.”

“Hey,” I call out as Fallon walks away. “What do you think of the whiskey?”

“I think…” A soft smile overtakes her pretty face as she turns toward us, her gaze drifting to Delilah. “You finally got it right.”

* * *

I spend the rest of the party shaking hands and intercepting arguments and pouring whiskey. When the last barrel is empty and the guests have gone and the sky is starlit and twinkling, I find River in the middle of the field.

“You okay?” He’s been quiet ever since the FBI released the names of the victims trafficked and kidnapped by Marcus D’Angelo.

“April.” River’s jaw works. “I thought we’d find her in all those files.”

“It’s better we didn’t.”

“The not knowing kills me.”

“I know it does.” I stare into River’s haunted eyes and understand why he went crazy when April disappeared. After everything that happened with Delilah, I was on that precipice myself.

“She’s not under a rock. She’s out there. Somewhere.” River stares up at Moriah Mountain. Above the Complex, the Green Mountain lights blink.

I shift my weight and square my shoulders, wanting to tell him that it’s been seventeen years. April being alive, being somewhere, anywhere, is a long shot. But even I’m not that cruel.

Commotion behind us. River glances over his shoulder. Our big family barrels our way.

“Stay for the toast.” The tightness on his face, in his body, tells me he’s in his own head tonight. “Then go.”

He casts a sideways glance at me but lifts the glass of whiskey to his lips in agreement.

“Hi. I missed you,” Delilah whispers, squeezing beneath my arm. Tonight, the ends of her mussed-up hair are dyed a dark honey brown to match our whiskey.

“Missed you.” I stroke a hand over the small of her back, loving the feel of her against me. “How’d it go?”

“It went great.” She looks around our group. “Weston Whiskey is officially in next month’s issue of the Whiskey Enquirer.”

Mustache tipping, Uncle Vaughn lifts his glass. “Hear, hear.” The rest of our family follows suit.