Page 22 of Promised Cowboy
Inside, the house hums with a quiet energy. Rachel calls from the kitchen, “Breakfast’s up!” The smell of coffee and toast weaves its way through the rooms, blending with the sound of soft chatter and the clatter of dishes from the small family gathering. It’s simple, but it’s ours.
Later that day, I find myself leaning against the railing near the barn. I watch as Lacey, confident now and a little more playful than I remember, helps Wyatt and a couple of others repair a section of the old fence. There’s an ease in her movements—a graceful acceptance of the life she once thought she was leaving behind. Her laughter, light and spontaneous, rises and falls with the breeze, and I can’t help but smile.
“You look happy, Colton,” Wyatt says as he passes me by with a nod.
I just nod back in return. I know that every time I look over at Lacey, I’m reminded of everything I was waiting for. My heart doesn’t know any other rhythm now.
That evening, as the sun sinks behind the rolling hills of Shadowbrook, Lacey and I sit on the back porch. The chatter from dinner has faded into quiet conversation and contented silence. I pull her close, and she rests her head against my shoulder. We watch the sky burn shades of red and amber.
“Remember when we used to say that if we were still single at thirty, we’d marry each other?” she whispers.
I chuckle softly, squeezing her a little tighter. “I was always serious, even when we thought it was just a silly promise.”
She looks up at me with eyes that reflect years of hidden feelings and quiet determination. “I’m glad you never stopped believing in it. I’m glad I’m home.”
The breeze carries the scent of honeysuckle and warm earth, the same smells that seem to reassure me that this isn’t just a fleeting moment but a foundation for something lasting. I lean in, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. I don’t need grand gestures now—just the certainty we’ve built over months of hard work, honest talks, and the kind of intimacy that goes far deeper than any lustful encounter.
Inside, I know, our lives are full—there’s talk of new projects with the ranch, plans for a little garden by the house, even hintsof expanding our family someday. But for now, as the stars begin to pepper the twilight sky, I’m content to simply be here with Lacey, living this quiet dream.
I take one final look at the horizon, then turn back to her. “I love you, Lacey,” I say, voice soft but steady, as if we’ve said it a thousand times already.
She smiles, eyes shining. “And I love you, Colton. I’ve never been more certain of anything.”
In that moment, with the cool night settling around us and the promise of a new day just beyond the dark, I know that home isn’t just a place on a map. It’s the feeling of coming home to the one person who has always made me feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
We sit together in comfortable silence, knowing that while the journey isn’t over, we’ve finally reached a place where two hearts beat as one—a place where promises aren’t just made in youthful laughter, but in the quiet, enduring moments of love.