Page 15 of Fern’s Date with Destiny (Heart Falls Vignette and Novella Collection #4)

F ern leaned back on the smooth wooden bench and tilted her head toward the steel beams and sparkling windows arching high above them. Greenery dripped from every ledge, ferns and orchids lush against glass walls that let the February sun flood the Devonian Gardens in Calgary.

“I am officially shopped out,” she declared to the rafters.

Rose, perched cross-legged beside her with a reusable shopping bag full of pottery finds, pressed a hand to her heart. “Blasphemy.”

Tansy huffed, hauling another bag onto the floor to make room to stretch out on the wide bench. “It’s been an amazing trip, though. You have to admit I hit gold with this whisk. Look at the handle. It’s ergonomic porn.”

Fern groaned. “You and your kitchen gadgets.”

“She’s a diva,” Rose agreed gravely. “And not even sorry about it.”

“Zero regret,” Tansy confirmed, her smile smug. “Once I replace the last of the thrift store utensils in the High Water kitchen, I will ascend to my final form, Goddess of All Things Delicious.”

Fern laughed so hard she nearly toppled off the bench.

Rose’s phone pinged with an alert. “Okay, we’ve got about thirty minutes before my next appointment with a distributor. Ten minutes, if we really want to keep going.”

“I do not,” Fern said firmly. She stretched her legs in front of her and closed her eyes, letting the warmth from the skylights soak into her bones. “I’m staying right here with my sore feet and my excellent mood.”

Tansy leaned her shoulder against hers. “You sure you’re not just waiting for a secret admirer to text you?”

Fern cracked one eye open. “A secret admirer?”

“Yes,” Tansy said solemnly. “The one who probably follows you around Buns and Roses, pining after you.”

Rose snorted. “You read too many romance novels.”

Tansy shrugged. “Or maybe you’re waiting to hear from Cody. Honestly, I can’t figure out why you two haven’t just moved in together. You’re practically joined at the hip.”

Fern’s pulse jumped, but she schooled her face into amusement. “Really?”

“I know, I know. You’re friends .” Tansy waved a dismissive hand.

“But I swear it’s like you two went back to elementary school and are now doing all the super cute friends forever things, quote unquote.

Like make up a secret language and a secret handshake.

If he ever needs a reference for his next girlfriend, he can tell her he’s got the Fern Fields stamp of approval . ”

Rose smothered a smile and bent to examine her coffee lid, not commenting. Fern sent her a look, and Rose’s mouth twitched. She was definitely not going to confirm anything.

“Are you quite done analyzing my friend ?” Fern asked.

“For now.” Tansy sighed dramatically. “You need to start hanging around more other unattached cowboys so I have fodder for speculation.”

Fern opened her mouth—and then her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Speak of the devil.

She pulled it out, already smiling.

Cody: How’s the get away?

Fern: Sister-filled and glorious. But I miss you.

The typing dots popped up immediately.

Cody: Miss you too, sweetheart.

Her heart did a little flip. After everything they’d gone through, after Ireland, after January, he made her feel as if someone had cracked her ribs open and tucked something warm and precious right against her heart.

Another bubble popped up.

Cody: Also…I have a favour to ask.

She straightened. “Hang on, girls.”

Three dots blinked, then vanished. Reappeared. She waited, thumb hovering.

Cody: My appointment for testing got moved up. It’s tomorrow. I know you’re with your sisters, but…

The dots paused. Fern’s chest squeezed.

Cody: You feel like sitting in boring reception rooms so I can hug you when the bullshit’s over? I’ll buy you dinner on the way home.

She didn’t hesitate.

Fern: Yes. Absolutely yes.

Cody: You sure? You don’t have to.

Fern: I WANT to.

She looked up to find Rose watching her knowingly while Tansy was blissfully preoccupied digging in her tote for a protein bar.

“Potential change of plans if you guys don’t mind,” Fern said carefully. “Cody’s going to be in town tomorrow. If you can drop me off at around ten, I’ll spend the day with him then we’ll ride home together.”

Rose’s brows arched then she looked away, expression smooth as glass.

Tansy popped her head back up, looking delighted. “Oh, fun. A Cody day. Convince him to buy some decent jeans. I swear he’s been wearing the same pair since last fall.”

Fern coughed to cover her laugh. “I think he has more than one pair.”

“You’re enabling him.” Tansy pointed accusingly. “I know wardrobe minimalism is a thing, but you’re a bad influence.”

Rose cleared her throat delicately. “Or a good one,” she murmured.

Fern shot her a look that said don’t you dare .

Rose just raised an innocent brow and sipped her coffee.

Tansy, oblivious, stretched out her legs.

“Well, tell Cody hi for me. And that if he ever wants to offer me a prize, I’m game—since someone— ” she jabbed a dramatic thumb into her chest, “arranged and then graciously bowed out of the trail ride that was the start of the epic friendship between you two.”

Fern clutched her chest. “Are you still going on about that?”

“Yes,” Tansy deadpanned. “I am.”

Rose laughed quietly. “She’s never going to let that go.”

“Never,” Tansy confirmed cheerfully.

Saturday morning was bright with that clear, deceptive light that made the sidewalks look warm instead of brittle and minus twenty.

Fern hugged her sisters tightly on the curb outside the café where Cody said he’d meet her.

“You want us to stay?” Rose asked softly, her hand on Fern’s shoulder.

Fern shook her head. “No. I’m good.”

“Have fun.” Tansy kissed her cheek. “Text us later. And don’t let him skip lunch. Cowboys are the worst.”

“I won’t.”

Fern waved them off then turned toward the café entrance just in time to see Cody step through the door. His eyes landed on her and softened instantly.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey yourself.” She leaned in for a hug, and he clung to her briefly, the hold tight and needy.

“You ready?” she asked softly when they pulled apart.

He swallowed, that flicker of vulnerability she’d come to recognize crossing his face. “I don’t know.”

She cupped his jaw, brushing her thumb over the faint stubble on his cheek. “That’s okay. I am.”

For a moment, he looked as if he was memorizing her face before nodding. “All right. Let’s go.”

The waiting rooms were just as dull and sterile as she’d imagined. Grey chairs, a looping slideshow of nature programs on one overhead screen, news on another.

Fern ignored both and held Cody’s hand until he was called for his MRI and the clinical neurological exam. She kissed his cheek when he looked as if he might bolt and offered her best encouraging smile.

When he came out, hours later, pale and exhausted but standing, she rose and wrapped her arms around him without a word. His breath shuddered against her hair, but he didn’t pull away.

When he finally spoke, his voice was rough when he said, “Thanks for being here.”

She tipped her head back. “Always.”

“Even when it’s ugly?”

“Especially then.”

He kissed her. Just a brush of lips, but it steadied them both. She tucked her arm through his and leaned against him as they walked into the bright afternoon.

They didn’t know yet what came next. But they were going to find out.

Together.

Cody hadn’t realized how much he’d been counting on answers, real answers, until he walked out of Dr. Sydney Jeremiah’s office in Heart Falls in mid-March with nothing to show but another requisition form.

More tests. More waiting.

He kept the paper folded in his back pocket all afternoon.

Didn’t even look at it until he was alone, sitting in his truck in the Red Boot parking lot with the engine ticking as it cooled.

He laid the slip on his thigh and read every word twice, as if memorizing the medical code numbers would somehow feel like progress instead of spinning in place.

It didn’t.

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, feeling the scruff because today he hadn’t managed to shave, and let his head fall back against the seat.

Outside, the early spring wind picked at the eaves and sent a loose scrap of feed bag skittering across the gravel.

In the last light of the day, it looked almost alive.

He didn’t want to bring the heaviness home to Fern. She deserved better than his half-exhausted silences. But he’d promised to try, so he did.

It was hard, but he told her the truth.

“It was inconclusive,” he said that night when she stopped by with a bag of takeout and the determination to make him eat something. “More tests coming. I don’t know when it’ll end.”

Fern sat beside him on the couch and took his hand. “Then we wait,” she said simply, squeezing until he felt the tremor in his knuckles ease a fraction. “Together.”

The days blurred, a quiet rhythm of work and trying not to think too hard.

The only thing that broke the monotony was Karen waving him down by the main paddock one morning, her cheeks pink from the cold.

“You got a sec?” she called, voice bright.

“Sure.” He leaned on the railing, tucking the schedule in his hand away in a pocket. “What’s up?”

Her smile was incandescent. He’d never seen Karen look as if she might burst with happiness. “I’m expecting.”

It took him a second to understand, then he blinked, his brows shooting up. “You— really ?”

“Finn and I found out a few weeks ago. I wanted to wait until the first ultrasound before telling folks.” She bit her lip. “It’ll mean a lot more for you to pick up when I’m farther along.”

He was still grappling with the surprise, and the pang of envy that surprised him even more. They knew their future, he thought numbly. He didn’t even know if he’d be able to button his damn shirt in a year.

But he forced the bitterness aside and reached across to squeeze her shoulder. “Congratulations, Karen. That’s…honestly, that’s wonderful news.”

Relief crossed her face. “Thank you. You’ll let me know what you can take on? If you’d rather not pick up extra long-term, I completely understand, and we’ll look at hiring.”

“I’ll look at the schedule,” he promised. “Short-term, don’t worry about a thing. I’ll cover it.”

When she left, he took a minute before moving again. Let himself lean into the wind, his breath steaming out ragged and cold.

Late March blurred into April. He did his best to show up. For Karen. For the ranch. For Fern, most of all. It wasn’t easy, but somehow pushing to be there for them meant he found strength he didn’t know he had.

Not every day, but often enough.

The night before Rose and Tansy’s joint birthday party, he lay awake in bed, staring at the plank ceiling of his cabin, listening to the ghosts of his doubts scuffle around in the dark.

He didn’t know how to need someone so intensely. But Fern never stopped offering to catch him when he fell. Accepting that was slowly getting easier.

On the day of the party, he almost didn’t go. He’d been in the barn all morning, fixing a gate hinge he could have replaced twice over on a good day.

Today was not a good day. Not only because of his hand, but because he kept thinking about the inconclusive report.

Somehow, she knew. Fern texted midafternoon.

Fern: Don’t you dare chicken out.

Fern: I’ll meet you at four. It’s not fancy, it’s family. Remember that.

So he showed up.

She stood on the porch, smiling as if he was exactly what she’d been waiting for, and he forgot to be afraid. Forgot to be worried and tired and lost.

He reached for her hand automatically, and she laced her fingers through his without hesitation. That single touch steadied something deep in his chest.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey yourself, cowboy,” she said, her smile soft. “You okay?”

He nodded then ducked to press a kiss to her hair. “Better now.”

Inside, the Fields family was exactly what he needed even though they were everything he feared. So many people, with so many watchful eyes.

But they were also kind, and careful not to prod. They knew he was dealing with medical stuff and somehow stayed supportive without being invasive.

A lot of them still hadn’t clued in that he and Fern were more than friends, which was amusing in an entirely different way.

It was nearly sunset when he slipped out back, needing a breath of air. The late April sky was a wash of lavender and gold. Carter was laughing somewhere behind the house, and the low drone of Walker’s guitar carried into the cool night.

Along with Fern’s voice, calling his name from the porch.

“Hey,” she said softly, stepping down to meet him. “You okay?”

He nodded, swallowing past the knot in his throat. “Just…needed a minute.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then turned her head toward Rose and Chance’s place across the adjoining yard. “Want to go sit for a bit? Somewhere quieter?”

It was all the invitation he needed.

He followed her across the grass, through the side gate, and up the back steps of Rose and Chance’s house. Inside, it was quiet with everyone over at the other house. Fern tugged him down the hall to the little guest room tucked behind the kitchen.

The second the door closed his restraint snapped.

He caught her around the waist and kissed her so hard she made a startled, muffled sound against his mouth. She wound her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back, fierce and sure. When he pulled back, he was breathing ragged.

“Christ, sweetheart. You undo me.”

She traced fingers down his jaw, her eyes dark with heat. “Good.”

He kissed her again. Softer this time, but no less urgent. His hands skimmed down to the small of her back, her hips, the sweet curve he’d thought about more nights than he could count.

“You want this?” he whispered.

Her answering nod was the surest thing he’d ever seen.

He backed her against the wall, stopping only long enough to brush his thumb over her cheekbone, to memorize the way she looked right then.

Flushed and certain and beautiful.

Then he kissed her again, and the rest of the world fell away.