Page 18 of Fern’s Date with Destiny (Heart Falls Vignette and Novella Collection #4)

F or the next two weeks, Cody vacillated between heaven and hell.

Fern loved him.

She’d said it. She’d whispered it into his hair, pressed it into his skin with her lips, texted it in the quiet hours when she thought he might need to hear it most.

Every time that bone-deep part of him quavered in believing that he was worthy of her, he made sure to say it back, and every time it meant something more.

I love you. I care so much.

I love you. I’m afraid, but you being there makes it better.

I love you. I’m yours for as long as forever lasts.

It helped, but it still didn’t feel like enough. Not because she wasn’t enough, or him, but maybe because after all he’d put her through, he needed something bigger than words. Some blunt-force miracle to crack open every last doubt.

Hell, even the secret of them being together felt more wrong than right.

What was it she’d told him last year? That so many times in her life had felt like a battle. He wanted to change that, yet he couldn’t fix the unfixable. He had Parkinson’s. That was a battle she’d vowed to fight at his side.

But there had to be something else…

When the end of June rolled around, a wild idea took root in his brain. Big enough to make a point. Foolish enough it felt exactly right.

Because if he was going to stake his claim on destiny, he needed to do it where everyone could see.

Canada Day hit, and all his plans nearly went up in smoke when he barely made it to the old community hall on time. He arrived after lunch, and the bachelor auction had already begun when he slipped in the back door, heart hammering as he snuck onto the back of the stage.

The heat was oppressive, the thin light of a single overhead bulb barely breaching the darkness. The curtain was closed for some reason, and the scent of masculine sweat and nerves blended on the air.

From behind the curtain, Chance’s voice rang out, pitched smooth and professional. “Come now. Do I have any other bids?”

Cody edged past a cluster of bachelors perched on folding chairs, all looking as if they’d rather be anywhere else. “What the hell is going on? Why are you sitting here in the dark?” he asked quietly.

One of them, a skinny cowboy he half-knew from the feed store, lifted a shoulder. “Curtain’s stuck. Mr. Fields is grabbing us when it’s our turn.”

Before Cody could reply, a roar went up on the other side of the curtain. Voices overlapped. Laughter, a smattering of applause, a high, clear shout that sounded suspiciously like I love you!

Cody made a move toward the curtain to see what was happening when Jose Sanchez, the stock manager from the seed and feed, slapped a hand onto his forearm and squeezed so tight Cody winced.

“Can’t—breathe,” Jose rasped, eyes wide and glassy.

“Shit.” Cody dropped to his knees. “You have an inhaler? An EpiPen?”

Jose shook his head frantically. “No allergies—just…oh, damn?—”

Not allergies. Panic attack then.

Cody had seen it a dozen times. Usually in kids forced too close to a horse or an arena full of screaming strangers. He didn’t think twice. He braced a steady hand on Jose’s shoulder.

“Hey. You’re okay. Look at me.”

Jose’s gaze flicked up, eyes wild.

“Slow breaths,” Cody coached, his voice low and even. “You’re safe. Nothing here is going to hurt you.”

The curtain shifted. Malachi’s booming laugh rumbled over the chaos. “That’s a twist I never saw coming. Never thought your first day on the job would be this exciting, did you, Chance?”

Chance sounded exasperated. “No, sir. Seems we have a bachelor in a hurry to collect his date. Let’s get him out of here.”

Cody held Jose’s gaze another beat, waited for the man’s breathing to steady. When his shoulders dropped fractionally, Cody gave him a nod and squeezed his arm.

“Stay here. You’re okay.”

Cody stood and determinedly headed for the front of the stage. He ducked around Malachi just as the older man eased into the back.

“Cody?” Malachi’s brows rose.

“Later,” Cody muttered. “I need to do something first.”

He slipped through the curtain.

Chance turned, relief brightening his face until he saw who it was. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Good thing your mic is off,” Cody deadpanned. He slapped Chance’s shoulder, forcing a semblance of normalcy into his voice. “Crowd’s starting to look confused. Get on with it.”

Chance’s jaw flexed. “What the hell are you doing, bro?”

“It’s the only solution.”

“The only—” Chance dragged a hand over his mouth. “You’re about to hurt a wonderful woman.”

“If I’m lucky,” Cody said quietly, “I’m about to fix it.”

Chance studied him a moment longer, then blew out a breath and turned to face the crowd.

“Now, as my future father-in-law explained, I’m still in training,” he began, voice smooth again. “I hope you’ll forgive one last mix-up. We have an unexpected last-minute bachelor. Well-known to you all. My brother.”

Cody stepped forward and took the microphone. The stage lights hit him in the eyes, hot and blinding.

The noise swelled. A low buzz of curiosity and surprise. Someone near the front let out an excited whoop.

But none of that mattered.

He found Fern instantly in the crowd. She sat with Rose, an empty chair beside them. Her hands rested in her lap, her expression a quiet, controlled calm.

Those lips he’d kissed in the dark, soft and fierce and sure, were pressed together in a tight line. The eyes that had flashed with mischief and desire and faith—flat and unreadable.

God, he’d done that. He’d left her standing alone.

But he was about to fix all that.

He swallowed and forced the words out through the tight ache in his throat.

“Hey.” His voice cracked. He cleared it. “I’m not officially on the auction list, but I’d like to offer myself up anyway.”

His heart thumped, slow and certain.

One breath. Then another.

She deserved someone who could be brave. Who could say what he felt without waiting for her to guess it first.

The auction must have started. Cody had no idea, he was too busy staring into the future in Fern’s eyes.

Chance cleared his throat. “Bidding stands at five hundred. Do I hear six?”

Voices rose. A woman Cody had dated years ago waved a hand, smiling too brightly.

Chance lifted his mic. “Bid stands at six-fifty, going once…”

Cody took a step closer to the crowd and found Fern’s gaze again before he said, “Wait.”

Everything hushed.

“I bid seven hundred.”

Gasps. Then a chorus of incredulous laughter.

“You can’t do that,” Chance protested, though his mouth twitched. “Can you do that?”

Cody drew a shaky breath. “I just did. So obviously, it’s possible.” He turned fully toward Fern, intensely glad that everyone was watching. “I’m buying me for someone special. She’s been trying to tell me what my heart already knew.” He let out a shaky laugh. “I’m done fighting destiny.”

For a second, no one moved.

Then Fern’s smile broke like the dawn. Bright and unstoppable.

Everything in his chest unlocked.

He was hers. He’d always been.

Every fight, every time Fern had dug in her heels and refused to settle, had led her here. To Cody, on a stage he hadn’t planned to stand on, bidding on himself in front of half the county.

For her.

Her heart didn’t lurch this time. It lifted.

I’m done fighting destiny.

The crowd erupted. Applause and delighted laughter swelled, filling every dusty corner of the hall.

Fern didn’t hear a bit of it.

She saw Cody. Only Cody, standing there in his plain button-up and jeans, hair a little too long from neglect, mouth curved in a shaky, incredulous smile.

It wasn’t the smile of a man about to bolt. It was the look of someone who’d finally stopped running.

Her feet moved before her brain could catch up.

She stepped around Rose, who let out a choked little gasp, then carried on past the rest of the folding chairs. She reached the edge of the stage and braced her hand on the scuffed plywood riser.

She met Cody’s gaze straight on. “I believe you’re mine, cowboy.”

Cody’s eyes went wide. For a single beat, he just stared, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was real.

A ripple of laughter rolled through the audience.

Behind the mic stand, Chance gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, that seems settled, unless any of you ladies feel like bidding higher?”

A chorus of good-natured groans and a few halfhearted “no thanks!” rose up.

“Good.” Fern swung herself onto the stage without hesitating, ignoring the hand Chance offered her. She didn’t need help.

She needed him .

She crossed the worn floorboards in three strides. Cody still hadn’t moved. His eyes were bright, almost dazed.

“You look as if you’re waiting for lightning to strike,” she murmured, low enough only he could hear.

“Feels like it already did,” he rasped. “I didn’t know how to make it right.”

She reached for him, her strong hand pressed flat over the hard thump of his heart and smiled. “You just did.”

She kissed him, slow and certain, and everything fell back into place.

The noise in the hall swelled. Cheers, applause, laughter, but she didn’t care.

When she pulled back, she didn’t drop her hand from his chest. She made sure he couldn’t look away.

“You already made it right,” she said again, clearer this time, so there was no chance he’d ever forget it.

Another hush swept through the crowd, just long enough to feel the weight of it, as if everyone there knew they were watching something inevitable.

Fern turned her head slightly, her voice carrying with perfect calm. “I’ll be taking this one home. If that’s all right.”

Someone hollered, “Amen!” Another voice crowed, “About damn time!”

Cody let out a squeaky laugh. A sound so raw and relieved her heart squeezed.

Chance cleared his throat, his grin nearly splitting his face. “As much as I’d love to call it done, we do have other bachelors still hiding in the wings.”

“Then we’ll clear the stage,” Fern said sweetly. She slid her hand into Cody’s. Steady or not, she knew exactly how to hold him up.

Chance tipped an imaginary hat. “Be my guest.”

And then, because she knew him down to the marrow, she turned back to Cody and lifted her chin. “Ready?”

His voice was rough but sure. “With you? Always.”

Fern kept hold of him, refusing to give him even an inch of retreat. “Your truck?”

He nodded voice rough when he said, “Across the street.”

She didn’t let go until he’d unlocked the door. She climbed in with her heart battering her ribs.

Cody slid behind the wheel and just sat there. One hand still grasped her forearm. When he looked over, his eyes were glossy in the dim glow of the dash.

“I love you,” he said hoarsely.

She let the words sink into her bones. Let them fill every crack his absence had left.

“Of course you do.”

His laugh cracked on a sob.

“You scared me,” she whispered.

“I scared myself.”

Fern reached over and caught his cheek in her palm. “Drive me home.”

He did.

Except he didn’t take her to her house. He took her to his.

When she turned to look at him, questioning, Cody pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m so damn tired of pretending I can do this without you.”

“You don’t have to,” she murmured.

He kissed her then. Slow, deep, everything he hadn’t said with words.

They stumbled inside, neither of them bothering to turn on a light. She backed him against the closed door, threading her fingers into his hair, kissing him until she was dizzy.

“You sure?” he rasped.

“Surer than I’ve ever been about anything.”

His mouth came down on hers again, hotter this time. Needy. His hands roamed her back, then her hips, tugging her flush against him.

Fern broke the kiss long enough to breathe, her voice soft and fierce. “I love you.”

A tremor passed through him, not the kind she feared but something older, deeper. Relief so sharp it left him shuddering.

“I love you too,” he repeated.

The words fell between them like a vow.

No more running. No more walls.

Cody kissed her like he’d never let her go again. His hands skated down her arms, sliding comfortably over the place where flesh changed to prosthesis. She pulled back just enough to look him in the eye.

“I know you’re scared,” she said. “Me too.”

He nodded, breathing raggedly. “But you still want me?”

“I want us. ”

She pushed up on her toes and kissed him again. His mouth opened under hers, hungry and unguarded. His hands slid to her hips, then lower, hoisting her effortlessly. Her back hit the wall, and she wrapped her legs around him.

Every place they touched felt electric.

She cupped his face in both hands—her real one and her prosthetic one—and held him still, just long enough to whisper:

“You’re mine. Always .”

His answering groan vibrated through her, low and ragged.

“God, Fern,” he breathed, voice thick with everything he didn’t have words for.

She kissed him then, deep and sure, until neither of them could remember what it felt like to be uncertain.

When he carried her to his bedroom, she didn’t look away. She didn’t want to miss a second of this, of him.

When they finally sank into the bed together, she felt it settle deep in her bones. This wasn’t a temporary choice. It wasn’t a fling doomed by fear or circumstance.

It was a commitment to tomorrow, however uncertain tomorrow might be.

They made love slowly, unhurried, each touch deliberate, like sealing a promise neither of them would ever take back.

When it was over, she curled into his side, her ear pressed over his heart. The steady thump anchored her, chased away every last scrap of doubt.

His hand rested on her bare arm, warm and careful. “Thank you,” he whispered.

She smiled into his skin. “For what?”

“For being the best destiny a guy could ever hope for. For believing in me when I couldn’t.”

Fern closed her eyes, letting the quiet fill every aching corner inside her. “We’ll believe together,” she murmured.

Outside, the world kept spinning. Inside, they needed nothing but this.

Nothing but each other.