Page 135 of At First Dance
And he’s holding me in it.
Epilogue – Ivy
The road curves gently around the familiar bend, and my heart starts doing that fluttery thing it always does when we’re close to Coral Bell Cove. It's been a year—twelve full months of change and growth and late-night laughter in unfamiliar cities. Still, this stretch of rural highway, with its flickering sun through oak branches and the faint scent of hay on the breeze, feels more like home than anywhere I’ve ever been.
Rowan’s hand rests on my thigh, fingers tapping to the rhythm of the country song playing low from the truck speakers. He hums along—off-key, on purpose—and I smile even though he’s not looking at me.
His knuckles are still a little rough, calloused from working the farm even after all the changes this past year. Even after we built a new life that looks nothing like what either of us expected.
“Two more miles,” he says quietly, glancing toward me. His eyes flick down to my bare legs—propped on the dash like I always do—and the corner of his mouth kicks up.
“You counting?”
He shrugs, thumb stroking slowly against my skin. “Maybe.”
We’ve just wrapped a months-long press tour for my album—an entire loop around the US, from LA to Chicago to New York City, which helped convince my label to push back the world tour to next year.
This is the first time in weeks that the quiet feels real. Like the world’s finally catching its breath again. It took some finagling and a few new manager hires, but Rowan was able toleave the farm and animals in good hands. Of course, his father and siblings were also there to help out.
I lean back against the seat, letting my eyes drift shut for a moment, the road humming softly beneath the tires.
“It’s going to be weird not waking up in hotel beds,” I murmur.
Rowan chuckles. “Better weird than empty.”
“You didn’t hate it?”
“Waking up next to you in fifty different cities? I’m not that grumpy.”
I grin, cracking one eye open. “You sure? You growled at a room service tray in Boston.”
“That tray had the nerve to deliver cold bacon.”
“You ate it anyway.”
“Because you fed it to me,” he says, voice dipping lower. “In bed. Naked. That kind of makes a man forget his standards.”
Heat crawls up my neck, but I don’t look away. “Good thing I plan to keep doing that everywhere we go.”
He makes a low sound of agreement, hand sliding up a little higher on my thigh.
We fall into silence again, the kind that only comes from knowing each other inside out. After a beat, Rowan slows the truck.
My brows knit. “Did we miss the turn?”
“Nope.”
He eases onto the gravel shoulder and pulls to a stop in the shade of an old oak tree, right at the edge of a curve where the road narrows. For a second, I don’t understand until I look out the windshield and realize exactly where we are.
Right here. This is where it started.
My car had skidded off the road right into that shallow ditch, tires sank, my clothes rumpled, heart pounding, andmascara streaking down my cheeks. It’s sitting back in Nashville with a new owner as we speak.
I hadn’t even realized I was crying when Rowan pulled up behind me in this same damn truck, arms crossed and jaw tight, looking like a cowboy-shaped wall I couldn’t climb. Or maybe like the one I needed to lean against.
He shifts into Park and turns to me, the expression in his eyes softer now, threaded with memories.
“This is it,” he murmurs. “Right here. Where you nearly ran your spaceship into a cow sign.”
