Page 157 of Westin

It was eight-thirty on my wedding day when I realized we didn’t have an officiant.

Deacon and I went into South Platte to the nondenominational church beside the bank. Luckily, someone answered the door. Unfortunately, it was the same preacher from back when my mother made me attend.

“Westin,” he said, brows rising. “I haven’t seen you in years.”

“I’m getting married today,” I said. “I need a preacher.”

He frowned. “Well, I can’t leave today. I’ve got service tomorrow.”

“How about for a check?”

He shook his head.

“I’ve got a gun,” said Deacon. He leaned against the truck, cigarette in his lip. “Which is it gonna be? Check or gun?”

The preacher’s eyes widened. “I’ll get my book.”

I handed him a check, put him in the back seat, and we got back to Sovereign Mountain as fast as possible.

We made it back in the nick of time.

Everything worked out. Now, I'm standing here, waiting on the prettiest woman in the world to walk down that aisle. Deacon stands to my right, hands folded, and opposite is Keira, standing up for Diane. I’m at the front between them, looking out over the congregation. Everyone who works the ranch is here, alongside everyone we’re friendly with in South Platte. My mother gives me a soft smile from the front row.

The only person I don’t see is Jack Russell. We sent him an invitation, but who knows if it found him. No one knows where he lives. I addressed it to his bar in hopes it would find its way to his doorstep.

At the very back, I spot Vince Cassidy. Corbin Buchanan. David Carter. They all look out of place, lined up in a row.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

I cock my head, distracted by the thought of what will happen later tonight.

The music goes still.

The wind picks up, a breeze that smells dark and sweet, like the pines on the mountains. Then, the music starts up again, and everyone goes quiet.

My bride floats down the aisle on Sovereign’s arm. The world fades out around her, and I forget everything—how to breathe, how to exist.

I’ve seen some of the most beautiful sunrises in the world out here in rural Montana. I’ve seen sweeping mountains carpeted in bluebells. I’ve seen lakes so placid, they reflect the sky like a painting. I’ve seen beauty in its most breathtaking forms.

But I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as Diane.

Any shred of doubt I have over what I’m going to do tonight vanishes. I’m willing to have more blood on my hands if it means Iget to marry this woman. I’ll find heaven growing old at Carter Farms, Diane at my side and our children playing in the backyard.

She halts a few steps away. Sovereign shakes my hand, and I lean closer to speak into his ear.

“Thank you,” I say. “For everything.”

Sovereign doesn’t talk much. He never has. We’ve never had a heart to heart in our lives—that’s not our way.

He gives me a firm nod. “Thank you,” he says. “For everything.”

We draw back, and he holds Diane’s hand out to me. Captivated, I take it, and she offers me a little smile. The breeze flutters flyway waves around her slender throat. At the base sits her simple, gold collar, a sweet afterthought.

Mine in every way she can be.

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