Page 87 of Simply Yours

And at that moment, he knew.

There was no waiting. No second-guessing. No perfect timing.

He wasn’t letting her go. Not now. Not ever.

* * *

The hospital was silent, save for the steady beeping of the monitor beside Caitlin’s bed and the muffled sounds of the night shift outside the door. Jason sat in the stiff plastic chair, his boots planted firmly on the sterile tile floor, unwilling to move, unwilling to leave her side. It was close to two in the morning, but exhaustion had no hold on him. His mind was too full, his heart too raw.

His roughened fingers wrapped around hers, his other hand turning his mother’s ring over and over between his thumb and forefinger, the metal warm from his touch. He stared at it, lost in the memories it carried.

Caitlin Barnes.

The girl who used to race Matthew down the farm road, her laughter ringing in the summer air. The fearless little thing who’d once stood knee-deep in the creek, proudly holding up a crawdad for all to see. He could still see her giggling as she let baby chicks peck at her open palm, the way she’d wrinkle her nose at a cow pie before pinching it shut and scampering away.

He let out a breathy chuckle, those images bleeding into others—ones that had gripped his heart in a way he hadn’t been ready to face before now.

Caitlin at the funeral in uniform, standing tall despite the pain. Caitlin spinning in his arms as they danced, her eyes locked on his like he was the only man in the world. The smell of pancakes in the morning as they cooked together, the warmth of her beside him as they kneaded out bread, both of them covered in flour.

The way she looked at him. The way she kissed him.

Jason swallowed hard, pressing the ring against his palm as he let his mind drift forward, daring to picture something he’d spent too long denying himself.

One year from now.

Two years.

A decade.

The thought wrapped around him like the coziest blanket he’d ever felt. He imagined tiny feet pounding against the farmhouse floors, a child's delighted shrieks echoing as a flock of baby chicks scattered. He saw himself teaching them to walk, cradling them in his arms, watching Caitlin beam up at him—her smile a balm, a promise.

And maybe he finally understood why he’d held back.

Because he knew how she felt. And deep down, he’d known what it meant. That loving her—really, truly loving her—meant letting go of the excuses, the farm, the obligations that had chained him to the past. His father had been drowning when his mother died, swallowed whole by responsibilities too heavy to bear alone. But Jason wasn’t his father. He wasn’t alone.

And he sure as heck didn’t want to be.

A soft voice broke the stillness, pulling him back.

“Jason?”

His head snapped up, eyes locking onto Caitlin’s. Even tired and bruised, her gaze was warm, sweet—welcoming.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I don’t want you to worry,” she murmured, squeezing his hand before lifting it to her lips and pressing a kiss to his rough skin.

His chest tightened, and he let out a husky chuckle, shaking his head. This woman. This incredible, maddening, beautiful woman. She had a way of burrowing into his heart, disarming him completely.

“I’m not,” he promised, his voice steady. “Not anymore.”

She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“You just get better, so we can look forward to all the tomorrows.”

A soft smile curled her lips. “I’ve been looking forward to them for a while now.”

Jason exhaled sharply, his throat tight. “I know,” he admitted hoarsely. “I know you have. And they start now.”

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