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The bunkhouse was loud, filled with laughter, and the smell of grilled meat and fresh bread. Boots stomped, poker chips clinked, and beer bottles clashed together in lazy toasts.
This was home. Our home. These people werefamily. Elena and I stood at the head of the table with me grinning like a damn fool.
"Alright, listen up," I called.
A few heads turned. Cal rolled his eyes. "What did you do now?”
I slung an arm around Elena’s shoulders and smirked. "Elena and I are getting hitched."
Silence.
Then the whole mess hall erupted. Hoots, hollers, boots stomping against the floorboards.
Ben let out a loud whistle. "Hell yeah!"
Hunt clapped me on the shoulder. "About damn time." He hugged Elena and whispered something in her ear that made her smile.
Roy grinned at Elena. “You sure you wanna be saddled with this one? He’s too city, darlin’.”
She shrugged, playing it cool. "Figured someone had to beat that cityshitout of him, so why the hell not me."
Calls for celebratory drinks were made, and Itzel, who knew I was going to ask, showed up with Ally and helped open bottles of beer,and, of course, Buffalo Trace. I had asked Itzel if we should get the good stuff, and she said the ranch hands would revolt, so I went with the tried and true.
After everyone oohed and aahed over the engagement ring, ribbed me about the horseshoe, and suggested Elena leave me and run away with one of them, we went outside.
Roy played the guitar as Jace sang dirty limericks about aHorny Girl from Nantucket.
I squeezed Elena’s waist and leaned in, my lips just brushing her ear. "You happy?"
"More than I ever thought I could be,” she confessed.
So, while everyone was busy celebrating, I kissed the love of my life, slow and deep, like we had all the time in the world because, finally, we did.
CHAPTER 48
duke
The house was quiet, but not the kind that came with emptiness—but the stillness that followed something big, something life-changing.
Upstairs, Elena was asleep, exhaustion pulling her under in the way only a new mother could understand. She’d been hell-bent on coming home as soon as the doctor gave the all-clear, stubborn as ever. But she wanted to be home. She belonged here, on this land.
And so did he.
Our son.
I looked down at the tiny bundle in my arms, wrapped snug in a soft blue blanket. He was looking around with his big eyes, completely unaware of the world he’d been born into or the weight of his name.
River Nash Wilder.
A legacy and a promise, all wrapped up in a baby who was barely a week old.
I stepped onto the porch, the air crisp andcool, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. The land stretched out before us, dark and endless, the mountains standing guard in the distance.
This was my son’s birthright.
I adjusted him in my arms, holding him close. His tiny body radiated warmth, and the quiet rise and fall of his chest against mine almost undid me. Happiness, deep and overwhelming, pressed into my ribs, settling in a place I hadn’t even realized was hollow until now.
"This is yours, buddy," I murmured. "All of it."