Page 76 of Game Face

I slide the ring on her finger, relieved that it still fits after all these months. I figured out her size through lots of sleuthing.

I cup her face, not wanting just yet to break our small bubble and announce her answer to the hiding family and friends. She lets go of her hold on Otis and relies on me, her hands moving to my biceps as I widen my stance to help her feel steady.

“One request,” she says, leaning back enough to look me in the eyes.

“Anything,” I say.

“We don’t set a date until I can walk down that aisle.”

I can see the fire in her eyes with those words, and I nod immediately.

“You pick it, and I’ll move heaven and earth to make sure you get everything you want that day.” Apparently, I’ll be lining up multiple horses and carriages.

“Then yes, Wyatt Stone. I will let you marry me.” Her mouth puckers with her smug grin, and I press my lips against hers, loving every bit of who she is.

“She said yes!” I shout finally, backing away and turning toward the barn as the doors fly open and everyone spills out.

“Seriously?” Peyton says, covering her face while I hold her up against my side.

“You honestly think I would be allowed to do any of this without inviting them?” I point out.

She waggles her head, but then her eyes flash wide, and she covers her mouth.

“Yeah, Tasha probably heard you throw her under the bus,” I say.

And as her friend marches toward us through the thick arena dirt, her face all twisted with disgust as mud chunks cake to her fancy boots, Peyton and I bite our lips and brace ourselves for the storm that is Tasha. After all, what’s one more tornado on our walk through the impossible?

Epilogue

Wedding Day

It was important to my mom that I wear her dress for my wedding. We tailored it to fit me and updated the style a little, turning the skirt into an asymmetrical style so I could wear my favorite boots with it. The bodice, however, stayed the same, and I can’t help but think of how beautiful my mom must have been back then as I look at myself now.

“You look so much like her,” Grandma Susan says, hugging me around the waist.

She’s misty-eyed, and I think a little tipsy. My mom and I got a good cry in about an hour ago, before my make-up was applied, so I need to hold it together—at least until pictures.

I still need to get my feet into my boots, so I send my grandmother to check on my dad and see if he’s been able to polish them. I practiced wearing them a lot over the last two weeks, getting used to the new brace being shoved into leather, and it left them a little banged up. It’s a tight fit with my brace on, but I always wanted to wear these down the aisle. I’mdetermined. Besides, I already relearned how to walk for this thing, what’s one more skill?

“All right, I think I got the scuffs out—” My dad steps into the small tent we set up by our barn, and his words stop the second I turn around.

“Damn it, Daddy! I can’t cry anymore,” I blurt out in a half-laugh-half-choke.

I tap my fingertips below my eyes, hoping the liner and mascara hold. My dad sucks up all the air in the room and adjusts his belt, clearing his throat and burying what promised to be a pretty good-sized blubber.

“You’re beautiful, Peyt. Beautiful.”

My body quakes with emotion and nerves as I fan my face with my hand and give him a tight-lipped smile.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

This whole wedding thing has turned me and him into two sappy motherfuckers. I’ve been a daddy’s girl my whole life, but lately, I’ve been extra. Wyatt and I will be living with them for a while, at least until we figure out what the plan is after the combine and draft. And even then, I’ll see them all the time. But this day still feels like a severance in some ways, like that final snip between my youth and adulthood. I have my suspicions that my father might simply start traveling with us as an assistant. Who knew my mom was the independent one?

My father kneels at the foot of the wooden bench, and I take my seat, holding out my left leg for him to slip my boot onto my foot, and then my right. This is the tricky one, and it takes a little maneuvering to get the fit just right with my brace. Once they’re on, though, I’m able to stand and even jump a little bit.

“I can’t believe how far you’ve come,” my dad says.

I shake my head as I hold my skirt up a little and gaze down at my feet. It’s been exactly one year. I’m not great at running yet, but I have relearned how to walk. There have been setbacksand some dark days when I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it, but through it all, Wyatt was there.

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