Page 47 of Horned to be Wild
“And some things do,” he said softly, his gaze sweeping over the transformed cottage, the gallery filled with art, and finally landing on her. “For the better.”
Outside, the late autumn breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the promise of winter, of evenings spent before the fire, of shared meals and shared dreams. She turned backto the blank canvas within its ornate frame. Someday soon, she would lift her brush and begin to fill that empty space with color and life. But there was no rush. The beauty of a blank canvas was its potential, its readiness to become anything.
Just like their future.
He came to her side and placed his hand on her shoulder. She reached up to cover it with her own, enjoying the contrast between her smooth skin and his calloused palm.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded, her heart full. “Ready.”
Together, they carefully lifted the frame, this tangible symbol of their shared future, and carried it home to the cabin in the woods, where Mabel trotted happily ahead, leading the way as she always had.
In the gallery behind them, sunlight continued to stream through the skylights, illuminating the art they’d chosen to share with the world—his carvings, her paintings, and the works of their friends and neighbors. Tomorrow, the people of Harmony Glen would gather here, admiring what they’d built together.
But today—today was just for them.
