Page 16

Twelve

Emery

T wo days later...

"Mama!"

Legend's voice cuts through the parking lot like a fire alarm made of pure joy. I don’t even see him at first—I just feel him. That sound slices right through my chest, and suddenly my arms are bracing for the incoming blur of elbows and sticky hands.

Then he’s on me, full throttle, all limbs and peanut-butter breath, and I’m laughing before I even think about it, spinning him around while he giggles like I’ve just rescued him from the moon.

"Hi, baby," I breathe into the crook of his neck. He smells like sunshine, dirt, and graham crackers—the full childhood trifecta. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too!" he says in one long exhale, already wriggling to be let down. "Grandpop let me feed the chickens—one of them pooped —and Grandmama let me make cookies by myself and I didn’t even burn them! Then we watched movies with popcorn and I only spilled it twice!"

He stops to inhale and looks up at me, eyes bright. “Are we going home now?”

“We are.”

I take his hand and turn toward my grandparents, who are standing by their car, watching us like they’ve just witnessed a Hallmark commercial come to life.

Grandmama's got that soft smile that means she’s already planning a scrapbook page in her head, and Grandpop just nods like, yep, we kept him alive another weekend.

“Thanks for bringing him,” I say, already bracing for the stories.

Grandmama pulls me into a hug that smells like cinnamon and fabric softener. “Our pleasure, sweetheart. He’s just the best.”

“Speak for yourself,” Grandpop chimes in. “This one had me up at 5:45 asking for pancakes shaped like ‘realistic police cruisers.’ He’s got standards, apparently.”

Legend tugs on my hand. “Mama, can we play cops and robbers when we get home? I’ll be the good guy again. You can be the sneaky robber.”

“We’ll see,” I say, which is mom-code for yes, but please let me pee first .

And then—I hear it. That low, unmistakable growl of a truck engine behind me. My stomach tightens before I even turn.

Colt.

He pulls into the spot next to mine like something out of a country song—the kind that makes you roll your eyes but secretly hum along.

His black pickup is spotless (which makes me irrationally angry, because who has time to keep a truck that clean?), and he steps out like he's walking onto a damn movie set. Boots shining, uniform crisp, and that badge flashing just enough to say don’t test me, son .

I told him my grandparents were dropping Legend off today. I just wasn’t sure he’d actually show. It’s one thing to say you’re ready for a kid, another thing entirely to meet him in real life—with chicken poop stories and pancake demands.

“Sheriff Boone,” I say, trying to sound calm and not like I’m two seconds from breaking out in hives.

“Ma’am.” He nods, eyes landing on mine for a beat before they drop to the small human now glued to my leg.

"And you must be Legend."

Legend eyes him suspiciously, like he's checking for a hidden agenda. “Are you a real policeman?”

“I am.”

Colt squats down, making himself smaller, more human. Smart move. Three-year-olds are natural interrogators and will smell your fear.

“I’m Sheriff Colt. Your mama’s told me all about you.”

“She has?”

“Mmhmm. She said you’re the best there is at catching bad guys.”

Legend puffs up like a marshmallow in a microwave. “I am ! Want to see my police car?”

Before Colt can answer, Legend’s already halfway into his backpack, yanking out a tiny metal cruiser with one wheel missing.

Colt takes it with the seriousness of someone handling evidence from a crime scene. “Nice car. Does it have sirens?”

“Nope, but I make them with my mouth . Wanna hear?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Legend does a full sound effects performance, complete with hand gestures and a dramatic crash at the end. Colt nods like he's just watched a TED Talk on toddler law enforcement.

“Very realistic. You might be overqualified.”

I’m watching all of this with my heart caught somewhere between my throat and my stomach. This is it—the moment of truth. If Colt balks now, if he pulls away, we’re done before we’ve even begun.

But he doesn’t. He leans in. He engages. He listens like my son’s siren sounds are top-tier.

“Legend,” I say gently, “this is Sheriff Colt. He’s... kind of Mama’s friend.”

Legend tilts his head. “Like a real friend or like a boyfriend friend?”

My cheeks ignite.

Colt grins, not missing a beat. “Boyfriend friend. That okay with you?”

Legend gives it about three seconds of grave deliberation. “Do you love my mama?”

“I do.”

“Are you gonna be nice to her?”

“Always.”

Legend nods like a little judge handing down a sentence. “Okay. But if you’re mean, I will arrest you.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Colt replies solemnly. “You got cuffs?”

“Nope. I use tape.”

“Smart man.”

Behind us, Grandmama’s practically melting. Grandpop just mutters, “Well, damn,” under his breath.

“Sheriff,” Grandmama calls sweetly, “we should all have dinner together. I make a mean apple pie for dessert.”

“That’s kind of you, ma’am.”

“Good, right now work for you? Follow us back to Emery’s place!”

“Wait, I thought… I don’t want to crash a family dinner.”

“Nonsense,” she says with a wave. “You’re Emery’s young man, which makes you family. Plus, I want the scoop on how y’all met. She hasn’t told us anything .”

Colt looks to me, and I nod. I don’t want to do this alone anymore.

“I’d be honored.”

Two hours later, I’ve laughed so hard my jaw hurts.

“So there I am, looking out at the grill as a black bear tries to get at our steaks. I have no idea where Beau’s got to, he’s supposed to be watching them, but I grab my rifle from by the back door.

” Colt shakes his head as he relates the story of how he got his butt injury, while Grandmama tries to hide her laughter behind her apron.

“Just at that moment, Beau appears from around the side of the house, shouting and screaming at the bear to get away, and scares the shit out of me—”

“ Oooooo! ” Legend giggles pointing at Colt. “You said a swear.”

I give Colt a playful motherly look.

“Okay, sorry, he scares the bull-poop out of me. I turn, knock the butt of the rifle against the grill, reach out to grab it, burn the sh—, I mean burn my hand on the grill, the rifle goes flying, hits the deck, I duck, sticking my ass up in the air and bam. I take it right in the—”

“Butt cheek.” I interrupt. “You do not have a filter yet Colt Boone.”

Grandpop lets out a howl of laughter. “Right in the backside!”

Legend snorts and mutters, “Backside” in the kind of way that I know I’m going to have to drill it out of him before school.

“Just a good job it was only my 22,” Colt says with a grin that finally has me snorting a laugh instead of warning him about ever doing something so stupid again.

Dinner is... chaos. Wonderful, loud, gravy-on-your-sleeve chaos.

Legend is narrating his entire weekend like it’s a Netflix series, Grandpop is grilling Colt about his pension plan, and Grandmama is refilling everyone’s tea like she’s hosting a Baptist revival.

Colt? He rolls with it. He laughs at the chicken poop story.

He answers every one of Grandpop’s questions without blinking.

He cuts up Legend’s food without being asked.

At one point, he even wipes applesauce off Legend’s chin and doesn’t flinch when he gets some on his own shirt.

He accepts a second giant slice of Grandmama’s apple pie.

But the thing that really undoes me? He remembers to refill my water glass. Twice.

When Legend finally starts rubbing his eyes and listing sideways in his chair, Colt stands and stretches.

“Come on, partner. Time for bed.”

“Will you read me a story?”

“If your mama says it’s okay.”

I nod, mostly because my throat won’t cooperate with words.

Twenty minutes later, Colt walks out of Legend’s room, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s asleep. Kid could talk the paint off a barn.”

I laugh. “Three years of solo conversations. He’s making up for lost time.”

“I like it.” He pulls me into his arms. “I like him. He’s got your fire.”

“Thank you,” I murmur. “For not... running.”

“Baby girl,” he says, kissing my forehead, “I’m not just here for the highlight reel. I want the full damn movie. Bonus features and all.”

My grandparents have tactfully retreated to the guest room, giving us privacy. Colt settles on the couch and pulls me into his lap, and I curl against him with a contentment I've never felt before.

"So," I say, playing with the buttons on his shirt. "What happens now?"

"Now we figure out how to make this work. You and me and Legend."

"It won't be easy. He's not used to sharing me."

"Then we'll take it slow. Let him get used to the idea." Colt's hand strokes down my back. "But Emery? I'm not going anywhere. This isn't some temporary thing for me."

"Good," I say fiercely. "Because I love you, and I'm not letting you go."

He kisses the top of my head. "Speaking of which, I got a text from Jack earlier. The family wants to know if you're coming to Sunday brunch tomorrow."

My stomach flips. "Meeting your family? That's... big."

"They're going to love you. Both of you." He tips my chin up so I have to meet his eyes. "But if you're not ready—"

"I'm ready." And I am. Terrified, but ready. "What should I expect?"

"Chaos. Lots of food. My brothers being idiots. Questions about when we're getting married."

"My intentions?"

"Whether you're planning to stick around long enough to give them nieces and nephews."

Heat floods my cheeks. "Colt!"

"What? I already told them yes."

"You what?"

"Kidding." But the wicked grin on his face tells me he's not entirely kidding. "Mostly."

I swat at his chest, but I'm laughing. "You're terrible."

"You love me anyway."

"I do." I lean up and kiss him softly. "I really, really do."