Page 41 of Fixing to Be Mine

I reach for her hand. “You okay?”

She nods, but it’s small. Her gaze lingers on a crooked photo of all of us in the front yard when I was about thirteen, my arm in a sling and Emmett grinning like he caused it. I had fallen off a horse after it spooked.

“This is what going home is supposed to feel like,” she says.

“Yeah,” I admit, studying her.

She doesn’t say anything for a beat. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like this.”

I glance at her, my eyes scanning over the dress, the earrings, and the pinkness blooming on her cheeks. I notice the weight she carries and how her edges go sharp when she’s trying not to show anything real.

“I’m so damn happy you’re here with me,” I say.

Her eyes meet mine, and something I can’t name shifts between us. It’s like a live wire is being pulled tight. She doesn’t look away. Neither do I.

The door behind us swings open, and Emmett glares at me, then lifts a brow at Sunny. “Don’t I get a proper introduction?”

I roll my eyes.

Sunny grins at him. “I’m immune to flirting.”

He bursts into laughter. “I like you.”

From the other room, a chair scrapes across the floor, followed by London yelling that dinner’s ready.

The moment breaks apart, and I lead her into the dining room.

We step inside, and the chatter stops. Focus is on us.

Beckett looks up from slicing the brisket.

“Everyone, this is Sunny,” I say.

I go around the table, pointing out everyone, and they smile, saying hello. Once introductions are done, Sunny hands the bouquet to Mama like she rehearsed it, smiling enough to be polite. Mama melts immediately, holding the flowers like they’re a promise.

“Thank you, honey. This was very sweet,” she says, giving her a hug, and I swear I feel Sunny exhale beside me.

My dad shakes her hand and introduces himself politely.

We take the last two open seats—side by side, of course—and the second we sit down, a dozen conversations fire off at once.

Kinsley is recounting a dramatic tarot reading she did earlier that day, then fills us in on some town gossip. Emmett is already halfway into a story about being chased by a rooster this morning. Fenix is arguing with London over the best George Strait album. Vera is chatting with Harrison as Sterling passes around a bowl of mashed potatoes like it’s a sacred ritual. Remi watches us, not saying much, along with Beckett.

Beckett eyes us over his fork. “When’s the wedding?”

“Don’t start,” I shoot back.

Summer leans in. “We’re glad you brought someone. You never have.”

“Y’all sure he didn’t hire her?” Emmett grins at Sunny. “I mean, she’s beautiful and smart. It’s suspicious she’s with you.”

Sunny doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m not for sale.”

Laughter rolls through the table, and my hand brushes hers beneath it. She doesn’t pull away, and I don’t move either.

The conversation shifts again. Vera talks about a flower order mix-up at the nursery, and London talks about her gig at the rodeo. With so many of us at dinner, there is never enough time to completely catch up.

“You’re coming, right?” London glances around the table.

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