Page 101 of Fixing to Be Mine

I take a big sip, and my eyes go wide as I gulp it down. “You spiked it.”

She giggles. “Oh, guess I should’ve warned you first. I poured vodka in it because why the hell not?”

Stormy leans back on the bench, her thigh rests against mine as she takes a big gulp.

“Fenix isn’t like my other sisters,” I say after a beat, eyes still locked on the horses in the distance. “She keeps things to herself, and she doesn’t have many friends other than London and Vera, but they don’t know either. London would tell me.”

Stormy tilts her head thoughtfully. “Maybe she needs more time.”

I glance over at her, taking in the paint streak on her jaw, the way her hair is starting to slip loose from its knot. “Maybe you’re right.”

She laughs under her breath. “I know how it feels to walk around, pretending everything’s fine while drowning. It’s easier not to talk about it. She’s lucky to have you.”

I take her hand, my thumb brushing across her knuckles. “So are you.”

Her eyes lift to mine. “Oh, I’m aware. I don’t take you for granted.”

The breeze picks up, rustling the tall grass in waves. Somewhere off to the east, an engine rumbles in the distance.

Then Stormy shifts. “Colt …”

“Mmhmm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything.” She turns and presses a soft kiss to my jaw. “For letting me in so easily.”

I tip my head, meeting her lips fully this time. “You’re welcome. I’m lucky to be a part of your world.”

Her eyes soften, and I stare out at the pasture, at the soft light casting long shadows, and I swear, for a moment, I can hear the future echoing back to us.

Little feet. Laughter. A life loud enough to fill every inch of this house we’ve made into a home.

The weight of the day slips off my shoulders.

We sit there until the sky turns purple, then fades to night.

And even then, I don’t want to move.

“Hungry?” she asks.

“Could eat a horse,” I tell her, and her brows furrow.

“Wait, you eat horses?”

Laughter rolls from me. “It’s an expression. It means I’m starving. Come on. Let me make you dinner, and then I want you for dessert.”

“Love the sound of that,” she says, standing and pulling me to my feet.

When she looks at me with adoration in her eyes, I think maybe we’re doing something right. Maybe love doesn’t have to be perfect. Maybe it’s supposed to be a little messy with unknowns.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

STORMY

We wake up, have breakfast, then immediately get to work. The day I leave is coming fast, and I want the bottom floor finished before I go. Two and a half more days. That’s all I have before I fly back to New York to face everything I ran from. Tomorrow is dinner at Remi’s. Saturday is my packing day. Sunday, I’ll leave. I’ve already scheduled a private jet, and I know my father was notified. I don’t care anymore.

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