Wild and Wrangled (Rebel Blue Ranch, #4)

by Lyla Sage

“If you get this one,” Dusty said as he reached for the dark green shirt I was currently looking at and pulled it off the rack, “we can match.” “ ‘Show me your Tetons’?” I asked, reading the white text on the shirt, and a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Dusty grinned back at me. “Only if you show me yours.” “In your dreams, Dusty Tucker,” I said on an eye roll, trying to stifle a giggle. He’d always been able to make me laugh, even when I didn’t want to. He gave me an exaggerated wink. “You have no idea, Ash.” “Stop flirting with me while I’m still in my wedding dress.” Leave it to Dusty to make me feel comfortable enough to make a joke about something that should not be remotely funny yet. “We better get you out of it then.” I huffed in mock exasperation. “You are ridiculous,” I said and then shoved the shirt into his arms. “Hold this for me. I need to find some pants.” “Do you?” “Yes, Dusty,” I said. “Or should I call you by your legal name?” Dusty’s gray eyes widened, but he was smiling, like he was thrilled I was playing with him. “You wouldn’t,” he said. “Try me, Tuck,” I responded, the nickname rolling off my tongue for the first time since he came home last year. His eyes glittered.

Back then, the future I saw for myself was intertwined with his. Now, we were basically strangers. I always thought it would hurt less over time. It hadn’t.

“The server is into you,” Cam said once she was out of earshot. I shrugged. “She’s probably wondering what the hell someone who looks like you is doing here with me.” “Someone who looks like me?” I smirked. “What do I look like?” “You know exactly what you look like,” Cam said pointedly. “You always have.” “What if I want you to tell me, though?” I couldn’t help playing with her. It came so easy. “Too bad. Women who got left at the altar don’t have to do anything they don’t want to do for at least a few hours afterward.” “Does that mean you’re ready to talk about it, then?” I asked. We had avoided the subject until now. Cam didn’t like to be pushed, and I didn’t like to be reminded that she was engaged to someone else, or at least, she used to be, so it had been a win-win. She shifted her eyes away from mine and started drawing mindless circles on the table with her pointer finger. “There’s not much to talk about,” Cam said. That was a lie. There was everything to talk about. “I showed up. He didn’t. It’s pretty cut and dried.” It didn’t sound “cut and dried” to me. It sounded messy, but Cam didn’t like messy things.

“This is massive,” she said, eyeing the glass. She was wearing a small smile now. “And looks disgusting.” “It is both of those things,” I said. “You’re going to hate it, but you’re also going to love it.” “What does it even taste like?” she asked. I leaned over toward the middle of the table to take a sip. “Artificial blue,” I said afterward. “Well,” she sighed. “Blue is my favorite color.” I know.

“Thank you for being there for me,” I said. “I’m happy you were at the bar—that you got me out of there.” Dusty tilted his head, waiting for me to keep going. “I just, um—” I stumbled over my words when I met his gaze, so I looked away. “—I think today should just be…today. And after tonight we should…just go back to how it had been before…with us.” Dusty was quiet for a second. I kept my eyes focused on the dashboard. I didn’t want to know what his expression was—didn’t want it to threaten the resolve I’d spent the entire drive back to Meadowlark building. “If that’s what you want,” he finally said. “It is.” I nodded. “I have a lot to figure out—a lot of things to focus on.” “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Ash,” he said. “If you want to forget about it, we’ll forget about it.” I told him that’s what I wanted—what I needed, so why did I feel disappointed in his response? “Okay,” I whispered. “Okay,” he responded.

When it came to Dusty, I understood what people meant when they said the more things change, the more they stay the same. Or that old habits die hard. Dusty was a habit—thinking about him, missing him, or at least the idea of him: It was a cycle that I’d always struggled to break. Especially because I also found myself missing who I had been when he was in my life.

“Can I borrow a pencil?” Dusty asked. “Do you need me to buy you some pencils?” I asked. He asked me to borrow one every time we had English or history together—so basically every day. “But then I couldn’t borrow yours,” he said with a wink. I sighed and pulled a pencil out of my pouch and handed it to him. “You better give that back,” I said. “I just got those.” I loved this new pack of mechanical pencils, and I had color-coordinated them to my notebooks for each class. “Cross my heart,” Dusty said, dragging his pointer finger over his chest to draw an invisible X. “Can I have a piece of paper, too?” “Oh my god, Dusty,” I said with faux annoyance. “Do you even go to school here?” “Occasionally,” he said. “But I promise, I just need the paper for today—after this I’ll only ever ask for pencils.”

It was nice that she had people she could lean on. I wished I could be one of those people.

“Think I could pull off blackmail? What if I take out an ad in the paper with your full name unless you ask Cam on a date—once the appropriate waiting period after her wedding has passed, of course.” “I think you could,” I said. “But I don’t think you would.” My mom shook a finger at me. “God damn the fact that I love you so much, Dusty. Let’s build shit.”

“Is this the Wilson house?” I asked and looked up, even though I already knew the answer. Emmy nodded excitedly. “Just went up for rent yesterday. Apparently, Mrs. Wilson moved into a care facility.” Anne Wilson was a kind, elderly woman who was as much a part of Meadowlark as the diner or the Devil’s Boot. I met her when I was in high school. Dusty and I used to park at her house before we went hiking, and she would leave treats on her porch for when we were done. Like everyone I knew, Anne loved Dusty. I remember him weeding her yard in the summer and shoveling snow for her in the winter, but most of all, I remember him talking to her and listening to her stories.

Before I could respond to Chloe, a pair of arms wrapped around me, lifting me, and whipping me around. “Holy shit, Cam.” Dusty’s voice. Dusty’s arms. Dusty’s smell. “You were incredible out there!” A surprised laugh escaped me as he spun me around one more time before lowering me to the ground. His gray eyes met mine. They were bright and excited—they matched his smile. “You were like a machine,” he continued excitedly. “And when you knocked that girl down?” Dusty winked at me. “Hot.” I blushed a deep red as I looked up at Dusty. His right cheek caught my eye. In black eyeliner, someone—the cheerleader, apparently—had written the number 33. My number. “You have something on your face,” I said—not acknowledging the “hot” thing. No one had ever called me that before. Dusty’s smile widened. “Like it?” he said, holding one of his hands under his cheek. “I did it for you.”

“Is your hair naturally curly?” he asked. I normally straightened it for school, so Dusty hadn’t seen it before. I frantically tried to smooth my ponytail and tuck the stray ringlets behind my ears. “No, don’t,” he said as he grabbed my wrist softly. “I like it.”

“Are you two still friends?” Anne asked. “Kind of,” I said. “We didn’t really keep in touch while I was gone, but I’ve seen her a few times since I’ve been home.” I was giving Anne the quick and easy version of events. “Ah.” Anne nodded. “Sounds like there’s a story there.” I felt it then, the hope ember starting to burn and glow in my chest again. That motherfucker refused to be smothered, and it was nearly impossible to ignore. Honestly, I didn’t know if I wanted to smother it—didn’t know if I could see the world without it being lit by the glow, but I knew my life would probably be a hell of a lot easier if it just went out. I rolled my eyes. “You’re worse than my mom,” I said. “She came to see me this week, too.” That meant they probably spent a lot of time talking about me. “Well, don’t you have a packed social calendar,” I responded. Anne nodded. “That I do.” On the small table next to her chair, her phone chimed and lit up with a message. I could read who it was from. Ed Wyatt. Anne picked up her phone and unlocked it using her pointer finger. She smiled. “I’ve got a packed social calendar, and it looks like you’re about to have a new neighbor.” I swallowed hard. Here we go.

Dusty was my first everything, but not in just a first love way. He was my first real friend. He was the first person who cared enough to get to know me, who peeled back the layers I had drawn around myself and liked what they saw. He made me want to like myself, too.

When I made eye contact with Cam, her eyes dropped to my neck—the right side of my neck, specifically—just like they did when we were at Chili’s—like she couldn’t believe I still had it. I wondered if she still had hers.

“What’s your favorite food?” I asked, changing the subject again. I glanced at Cam out of the corner of my eye and saw her shoulders drop slightly. She was skittish—you had to know when to push and when to pull. “Still tomatoes,” she said, and I laughed. She ate tomatoes like apples—it was the weirdest thing I’d ever seen. “And what’s yours? Still anything blue raspberry flavored? Even though that’s not even a real thing?” “Yep,” I said. “Blue dye does something to me—what can I say?” Cam shook her head, but she was smiling. “So do you like Bloody Marys now, too? I always thought you’d like those when I saw people order them.” “I do,” she said. “There’s nothing better than a giant Bloody Mary—with bacon or shrimp and a giant pickle.” I faked a shudder. “Pickles are gross.” “Pickles are delicious,” Cam shot back. I smiled, fighting the urge to bring up Cam’s pickle theory. She used to say that any successful relationship had a pickle lover and a pickle hater. She spent our time together stealing the pickles off of every sandwich I ever got at the diner.

She had never followed me online, but sometimes I wondered if she ever scrolled through my page, since the texts I’d get from her always seemed to come after I’d posted something—not that I did that very often. Once I noticed the pattern, I posted just as often as it took to make sure she didn’t completely disappear.

“How much longer?” I asked. Dusty laughed. “Like fifteen minutes. I thought you’d like this.” I liked being with him. “Aren’t you all about hard work and outcomes?” “I like to see the outcomes,” I said. “All I see are trees.” “Has anyone ever told you to enjoy the journey?” “No,” I answered honestly. “No one’s ever said that to me.” Dusty stopped walking and turned around. I stopped when I was only a step or two away from him. He looked down at me. “Well,” Dusty said, as he brushed my cheek with the back of his knuckles, “enjoy the journey.” I rolled my eyes, and Dusty grinned when they came back around. “Let’s keep walking so the journey doesn’t take two more hours,” I said. “Fair,” Dusty said as he turned and continued to lead the way.

“Why you haven’t kissed me yet.” Dusty froze, but his gray eyes gleamed. “Do you want me to kiss you, Ash?” There it was—the nickname. I had recently folded one of my English papers in a way that cut off the latter half of my last name so it would fit inside my notebook. Dusty saw it on my desk and started calling me Ash. He’d finally found his nickname for me, the one that made him feel special. I didn’t tell him that he already was. “Yeah,” I said in a tone that I hoped communicated that was a stupid question. When he was quiet for a second, I quickly said, “But, like, only if you want to.” Smooth. “I want to,” he said immediately. “I’ve always wanted to.” There it was—the stomach flip. “Then why haven’t you?” My voice came out quieter than I expected. I watched Dusty swallow. “Waiting for the right moment, I guess.” I gestured to the scene around us. “This feels like it could be the right moment,” I said and moved a little closer to him. He moved closer to me, too. The air grew thin, and I knew it wasn’t just the altitude. “Yeah?” he asked. His voice was lower than I’d heard it. I nodded. When he leaned forward, I paused. “I’ve never done this before,” I blurted out. Oh god. That was embarrassing. “I don’t know…do I move?” Dusty smiled—the lopsided one that made my heart squeeze and my breath catch. “No, angel,” he said quietly as he brought his hands up to each side of my face. “I’ll come to you.”

“Daddy will want a green one,” she said as she pulled a couple of different green embroidery flosses off their hooks. “Good choices,” I said. So far, we had a slew of pinks, purples, and reds. The greens would be perfect for Gus, and I grabbed a couple of yellows, too. “Are they all going to be monochromatic?” I asked and Riley looked up at me, confused. “One color or different versions of the same color.” I nodded toward her hands. “Like how those are all green but different greens.” “Mon-o-chruh-mat-ik,” Riley repeated quietly to herself—memorizing the word and storing it away. Smart girl. “No. Auntie and Teddy and Ada are going to get rainbow ones,” she said. “They’ll love that,” I said. “What about Papa?” “Yellow, I think,” she said with a nod. “Because he said he misses the sun and summer.” “That’s thoughtful, Riles,” I said. “What color do you think Dusty will want?” she asked as we went back to perusing. I froze. “U-uh,” I stuttered. “I didn’t know you were making one for Dusty.” “I have to make him one,” Riley said. “He lives in our backyard, Mom.” Good point. “Do you know his favorite color?” “Blue,” I said without thinking. Images of blue sour straws on a hike, blue Jolly Ranchers in a truck’s center console, and a blue margarita at Chili’s flashed through my head. “His favorite color is blue.”

“Oh my god,” she said as she set everything on her lap. There was a medium-size shoulder bag, a laptop sleeve, and a padfolio—all genuine soft leather. All made, start to finish, by me—cut, stained a deep, rich brown, and branded with a small monogram. I watched her drag her fingers over the surface of everything, but she stayed silent. I started to feel embarrassed. Was this silly? Did I spend hours making things that she wouldn’t even like or use? Was it weird that I’d made her something personal instead of just buying her something generic and easy? “These are…beautiful, Dusty,” she said as she examined the padfolio more closely. “But you said you didn’t buy me anything.” “I didn’t,” I affirmed. Cam looked at me. “Did you…did you make these?” I nodded, still feeling shy. Cam looked back down at her gifts. “Holy shit. These look like they cost a fortune.” She looked back up at me. “And believe me, I would know.” “You like them?” I asked. She was earnest when she said, “I love them, Dusty.” Her hands were still rubbing the leather and tracking the stitches. When she made it to the snap on the padfolio, she unclasped it and opened the cover. Her smile widened. “College-ruled paper?” “You and I both know wide-ruled paper sucks ass.” Cam laughed. “And this pen.” She pulled it out of its loop. “My mom made that,” I said. It was a skinny wooden pen with a mountain scene carved into it. “I put a point five pen tip in there. I didn’t know if that was still your preference, so I ...

But there was a big difference between acknowledging a thoughtful gift and showing up on his doorstep on New Year’s Eve and asking him to light my fire—my actual fire, not a metaphorical one.

Dusty probably wasn’t even home. It was New Year’s Eve, after all. He was probably out doing…actually, I didn’t want to know what he was doing. What if he was with a woman? Would I care? No. Yes.

I couldn’t believe I could still feel so drawn to him. Dusty wasn’t the only man I’d ever loved, but I had to admit that he was the one that I compared every other love to. And none of them ever measured up.

I wondered what that day would’ve looked like if Dusty hadn’t rescued me. Because that’s exactly what he did: rescue me. Now, when I thought of that day, I didn’t think about Graham or the fact that he didn’t show up. I thought about Dusty and the fact that he did. He always showed up.

“What are they?” I whispered. Dusty let out a long, deep breath. “Ash, even after everything went sideways, I didn’t stop wanting to be with you. I didn’t stop missing you. Adjusting to a world without you in it sucked,” he said quietly. The fireplace crackled and snapped. “Even months and years later, when something happened to me or I had something that I wanted to talk about, you were the person I wanted to tell. So I did. I wrote notes like I used to. I told you about my jobs and my life and, sometimes, I told you how much I missed you and how fucking annoying it was that you hadn’t faded from my mind or my heart—even a little bit. I knew I’d never send them, but I don’t know, something about it was just…comforting, I guess.” “Why do you keep them?” Dusty leaned forward until our foreheads were touching. I didn’t pull away. “Because they’re all I had left of you.” I felt his breath against my face. “Do you want me to be all the way honest, or do you want me to stop there?”

“They reminded me that it was all real—no matter how much time people spent telling me that we were too young or that it would never work out.” I hated that those people were right. “The notes made you feel real. I needed it all to be real for the pain to be worth it.” “Was it?” I asked. My eyes fluttered closed, and I brought my hands up to each side of his face. He held my wrists. “Worth it.” Dusty laughed a little, but it sounded pained. “I’ll let you know if it ever stops.”

“Does this make it better or worse?” I asked, rubbing my thumbs back and forth on his cheeks. “Worse,” he said. His voice was strangled and rough. “And if…I kissed you right now?” I whispered, knowing that if I said it louder, I’d lose this moment of courage. “Worse,” Dusty said again on a shaky breath, but then said, “but do it anyway.”

I was so close to pressing my mouth against his for the first time in fifteen years. Would it feel familiar or new? But when Dusty leaned toward me and his eyelids fluttered closed, the heartbeat in my ears turned into alarm bells. A flashing caution sign. Danger zone. Don’t cross. You won’t come back from it this time. I pulled away. I dropped my hands to my lap. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t…I want to, but I…” I didn’t really know what to say. It was like me pulling back allowed the oxygen to reach me again. I blinked slowly—trying to process what had just happened, how close I’d come to upsetting the precarious balance that Dusty and I had found for something as fleeting as a kiss. “I can’t…” I started, but I couldn’t finish, so I stood up quickly. “I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re right. I don’t know what that was.” Dusty rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. “Old habits die hard?” he said. He was trying to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I recognized it—the pain. Would I ever stop hurting him? “Let’s go look at your heater.”

Cam must’ve heard us pull in because she came out the front door. When she saw my mom, she beamed. Was I jealous of my mom? That was pathetic.

“Oh my god,” she said. “This is beautiful, Aggie. I can’t believe that someone wouldn’t want it.” My mom had a gleam in her eye that I couldn’t quite place. “It’s all yours, honey,” she said to Cam. “Dusty, you can get this inside, can’t you?” “Yes, ma’am.” The bed was heavy, but I got it in the truck by myself with some finagling and willpower, so I was sure I could get it out—especially if Cam was watching. “Are you sure?” Cam said. “I can help.” “No, no,” my mom said with a shake of her head. “He’s got it. Why don’t you give me the tour of your new house?” Cam gave me a look for assurance, and I nodded.

“What’s going on over there?” I nodded toward Dusty. “Luke and Dusty’s prized possession,” Emmy said on a laugh. “They jimmy-rigged the engine, so when whoever is on the back pulls on a string, it gives the truck gas, so they can do feeding with one person instead of two.” I watched Dusty kick hay off the back of the truck, and then I saw it when the truck slowed, his arm moved, pulling on the string, and the truck went forward again. “Clever,” I said with a nod, not taking my eyes off Dusty. God, he was pretty. He was wearing a dark green trucker hat, brown work jacket, and worn denim jeans. “He looks good up there, no?” Emmy said, and my eyes whipped to hers. She had a knowing smirk on her face. “Clementine Ryder,” I said, shocked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “You’re blushing,” she said with a laugh. “It’s good, though. I like the open staring more than the stolen glances you two have been giving each other.” My mouth fell open. “What?” Emmy said. “I saw you two on Christmas.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Dusty and I are friends,” I emphasized.

“How do you get off of it?” I asked. “Like if it just keeps moving?” “If you don’t pull on the string for a while, she gets really slow, so you just hop off the back, run toward the driver’s side, and throw her in park.” “I wish I would’ve seen that part,” I said with a laugh. “So you were watching me?” Dusty said with a smirk. I rolled my eyes. “You know,” I said. “Someone standing on the back of a moving truck with no one in the driver’s seat is a bit of a spectacle.” “All I care about is that it made you look,” Dusty said, and I felt it in my spine. “Shameless flirt,” I said with a push on his shoulder. He caught my hand and held it there for a second before letting go. For a second, I wished he hadn’t let go, and then immediately got frustrated with myself. Friend, Cam, I reminded myself. This is your friend. You’re just having fun with your friend. “You like it when I flirt with you,” Dusty said with a smile. “Shut up,” was the only response I could come up with. Because he was right. He’d always seen me so clearly. Dusty laughed a little. “I’m going easy on you,” he said. “Believe me, I’m aware,” I responded. Dusty had fifteen more years of flirting experience under his belt, and I was a little scared of what he might have learned. I also didn’t want to think about who he’d learned it from—or with. “Let me know when you’re ready for me to dial it up,” he said with a wink. My only defense mechanism was another eye roll, and Dusty’s response was to laugh again.

He looked at ease as he rode. Beautiful, even. I sighed. Beautiful and my personal Achilles’ heel, just like he’d always been.

“All right, then, Mr. Tucker. Would you like to share with the class or shall I?” Dusty was quiet for a second. Mr. Watson started to unfold the paper. “I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you,” Dusty blurted out, and Mr. Watson’s face blanched. It even took me a minute to catch up. “I hope you’re talking about the contents of the note, Mr. Tucker.” “Yes, sir,” Dusty said. He took a step forward—I saw his shoe in my periphery, and then he kneeled right next to my desk. “I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you,” Dusty said again. This time, his gray eyes were on mine. “I think about it all the time, actually. I think there’s something wrong with me. “I think about you when I wake up and when I go to sleep. During the day, you just stand at the front of my brain, and I can’t shake it. When I’m with you, I don’t want it to end, and when I’m not, I just want to see you again. “Is it stupid for me to write this in a note that I’m going to give you in English class? Probably. But I like writing to you. I like that these are just ours…well, not anymore obviously,” Dusty added, smiling a little. “I can’t say for sure, but I think I’m in love with you.” My breath caught in my throat. The smile on my face was big and reckless, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment and excitement. “I’m going to kiss you now,” Dusty said, and I nodded eagerly. He rose and took my face in his hands before his mouth landed on mine. I forgot we were in class. I forgot people were watching us....

“So,” Emmy said as we were walking back toward the Big House—toward our trucks, “anything new and noteworthy to report on you and Cam?” Emmy and I had gotten closer since I came home. We worked together a lot. I was usually with her or Gus, so basically the same person in a different font. Stubborn, hardworking, hotheaded, kind—all qualities that I liked about both of them. “You’re hanging out with Teddy too much,” I said as I shook my head. “Where’s your subtlety? Your finesse?” “You two dance around each other enough, so I figure straightforward is the way to go here.” Huh. I couldn’t really argue with her there, except for one small correction. “I don’t dance around her nearly as much as she dances around me, you know.” Actually, there was minimal dancing these days, but I was still worried that one wrong move would spook her. “Are you okay with that?” Emmy asked. I shrugged. I hadn’t really talked about this with anyone, but I liked that Emmy asked. “I don’t blame her. She’s had a weird couple of months, but she gives me just enough that I can’t help but let a little hope slip through all the cracks, you know?” Emmy nodded. “Hope is good, though, right?” “Depends,” I said with a shrug. “On what?” “On whether or not you’re hoping for something that’s never going to happen.”

“I want you.” His gray eyes were glued to mine. “I want you so bad—in all of the ways. I love you, and I want to be close to you like that. I’m ready to be close to you like that.” “So why won’t you?” “I know we don’t like to talk about it, but I’m going to Montana next month, and you’re going to college in the fall,” he said. “I don’t want to have sex with you and then leave a few weeks later.” “But you’re not leaving me,” I said. “You’re just leaving. We’re going to stay together. We’ll talk all the time, and we’ll visit each other.” Dusty swallowed. “I know,” he said. “And I’m so glad about that. I just…I love you so much, and I want our first time to be special. I don’t want you to feel like I’m just going to like…hit it and quit it.” A laugh bubbled out of me. It was loud and free. “Hit it and quit it?” I said between inhales. Dusty’s mouth tilted. “You know what I mean,” he said. “I respect you and shit, and I need you to know that and feel that, okay?”

“I’ll love you until we’re dust, Camille Ashwood.”

“You’re a knockout,” Riley said, and I laughed. “Where did you hear that?” I asked. She absorbed every little thing. “Dad says it to Teddy.” She shrugged. “And it works here, too,” Ada said.

He always seemed to show up right when I needed him.

When I turned around to face him, he said, “You’re beautiful, Ash,” and I rolled my eyes, trying to regain the playful mood. Suddenly, Dusty gripped my chin firmly. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t hide from me. I want to see you.” I should’ve tried to pull away, but I didn’t. Instead, I let my eyes grab hold of his, just like his hand held my chin and refused to let go. His eyes moved over my face like he was memorizing me and this moment, then they’d come back to mine every few seconds. I was helpless when his hands were on me, so we stood in my entryway, and I let him see me. “You’re beautiful,” Dusty said again. “So fucking beautiful.” He leaned forward, and I waited for my brain to go into fight or flight, like it had the last time we were this close. But it didn’t. It welcomed him into my space—it wanted him there.

“You know how to waltz?” I asked. “Full of surprises.” He grinned, and I let out a shocked laugh. He was a little fumbly, but mostly, he was good—more than passable. “I used to watch YouTube videos when we were in high school,” he said. “I remembered you saying that you had to dance whenever your parents had or went to an event, and I wanted to be prepared…just in case I ever got to go with you.” “You mean in case I ever forced you to come with me?” Dusty shook his head. “No. You’re a privilege, Cam. Being in your presence is a goddamn honor.” I looked over his shoulder instead of at him. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? “I can’t believe you did that when you were so young…for someone who wasn’t even a sure thing,” I said. I felt his shoulder shrug under my hand. “You’ve always been a sure thing to me,” he said softly. “Dusty…” I trailed off. “You can’t talk like that.” “Like what?” he asked. “Like we’re more than what we are,” I said. “I think you’re going to have to enlighten me then,” he responded. “What are we?” “Friends.” I sighed. “We’re friends. Aren’t we?” “Ash, I tried friends. I really did. But friends don’t feel the way I do about you,” he said as he pulled me even closer to him. Our bodies were touching now. “Or the way you feel about me.” I could feel his breath on my face. “I’ve waited half a lifetime for you, Cam.” Dusty breathed me in. “And I would wait a whole one if I thought I had to, but here we are. Together. No distance, no timing, no ring...

“I’ve been waiting for this for over a decade, angel,” he said. His other hand pushed my underwear to the side. “I don’t want to do anything fast with you.”

“You’re, um…” God, why couldn’t I make my voice sound normal? “You’re still…very good at it.” That felt like a stupid thing to say. “I—I mean—” Dusty kissed me then, stopping my idiot blabbering. It was soft and tender and made me feel like I was a puddle on the floor of this very beautiful bathroom. “I’ve been waiting a long time to get my mouth on you again,” he whispered darkly. “And I’m nowhere close to done.”

“Dusty,” I said as we walked toward his car, hand in hand. “What’s up, angel?” he asked, and I pulled him to me, careful to avoid the cling wrap and gauze on his neck. When I looked up at him, I felt resolute. “I want to go with you,” I said. “Where? Are you hungry? Do you want to go get something to eat?” “No, Dusty. I want to go with you to Montana. Next week. Take me with you.”

“What am I to you, Ash?” he asked. “And if you say that we’re just friends, I swear to God, I’m going to make Mal find me another room—I don’t care if I have to sleep in the same bed as a random trucker.” “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “What do you want me to be?” “I don’t know,” I said again. This time, I wasn’t honest, and he must’ve heard it. “I don’t believe you,” he said. “Try again.” His eyes were on me, and they showed no sign of letting up. This was the first time he’d pushed me—really pushed me—since we started being in each other’s lives again. He was the only one who knew how and when to do it. I sighed. I couldn’t run from him, and I didn’t really want to. Not again. I met his gaze, and for the first time in years, I unlocked the little box in my head, and I was totally and completely honest with myself. “Everything,” I whispered. “I want you to be everything.” His eyes stayed on mine as he got off the bed and kneeled in front of me. His hands were on either side of my thighs. “I’m ready for that,” he said. “Are you?” “No,” I said honestly. “But I think—I think I’m getting there.”

“I’m ready,” I said. “I want you. Please.” “You had to throw in the please,” he said with a breathy laugh. “Such a good fucking girl.”

“I missed you,” I whispered, finally getting brave enough to say it in the dead of night. His heartbeat was against my ear, and I heard it skip. “I’ve been waiting to hear that for fifteen years,” he said softly. “Thank you for coming back,” I whispered.

“I want us to go back to Meadowlark.” Dusty ran his hands through his blond hair. I couldn’t really see his face in the dark—only what was lit by the moonlight coming in our bedroom window. “Cam…I have a job.” “I know. We can go home when the season is over next week.” I heard Dusty sigh. “I…I don’t want to go home, Cam. This was my plan. I’ve been waiting for this my whole life—a chance to explore.” It felt like someone had kicked me in the back of my knees. “Okay,” I said, frustration bubbling under my skin. “But my plan was to go to college, and I changed it for you. For us.” “I never asked you to do that,” Dusty snapped. He’d never snapped at me like that before. Whenever we fought, he stayed even-keeled. I was the one with the temper. “But I did,” I snapped back. “And I regret it every single day.” “We talked about this before we came here, Cam. I told you that I was worried about you not going to school, that I was worried about us taking on too much too soon, and you brushed it off.” “Well.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I thought it would be different.” “Whose fault is that? I didn’t ask you to come here with me. I didn’t ask you to give up on school. I was ready to do the long-distance thing. I was ready for us to move forward that way.” “Okay, well, I’m sorry for loving you, I guess,” I said, hating the way it sounded coming out of my mouth. “Oh my god,” Dusty said, standing up from the bed now. “Are you kidding me? That is such a bullshit thing to say, and ...

“I’m sorry if it hurt you,” I whispered. “Finding out I was pregnant.” Dusty brought his hand over mine, so he could move it to kiss my palm. “Don’t ever apologize to me for that,” he said. “If we hadn’t ended, you wouldn’t have her, and that would be a damn shame. Plus, we were apart for so long at that point. It did kind of suck when I thought you and Gus were together.” Dusty smiled. “Right,” I said. “I forgot that he was your hero growing up.” “Okay, that’s a little much,” Dusty said. “I thought he and Brooks were cool—that’s all.” “Sure,” I said with a light laugh. “That’s all. So you’re okay with the no more babies thing?” “Yes,” he said without any hesitation. “Like I said, I’ve always been able to see my life with or without them, but even though I’ve tried, I’ve never been able to see my life without you.” “Dusty…” He was being so direct again, just like when we were dancing last night. I loved it, but at the same time, it overwhelmed me. “I know,” he said. “I’m not supposed to say things like that, but, Ash, you’re fucking insane if you think I’m ever going to let you go again.”