Page 77 of Tempted By the Broken Cowboy
BECKETT
The sound of laughter, chatter, and music welcomes us into the most anticipated event of the year in Wrangler Creek—the long-awaited fundraiser. My chest tightens in a mix of nerves and anticipation. This is it—the moment I’ve been dreading and longing for all at once. Every step I’ve taken over the past few days, every harsh truth Ryder forced me to face, it all comes down to this.
I glance at my family, who have all been part of my journey in their own way and are now here to back me up.
The doors to the hall swing open, and the crowd parts slightly as I approach. I take a deep breath, letting my eyes adjust to the bright lights, and then... I spot her. Standing near the center of the gathering, radiant and alive, unaware of the storm I’mbringing with me. My heart clenches at the sight of her laughing with someone, completely unaware that everything is about to change.
Guilt floods me. I’ve been gone too long, hiding from my mistakes, letting fear dictate my actions. I’ve been held back by damaging questions—what if she hates me? What if she doesn’t want to see me again? But all those were resolved by the voicemail she left me this morning. The one with the declaration of love, the words she never had the courage to utter till now.
I love you. I’m so sorry. I never should have pushed you away. I want you back. Please come back. I miss you.
Those words cut through my panic, giving me the courage to be here tonight to try to win her back.
The crowd murmurs as we move closer, and I notice a few familiar faces stopping in surprise, whispering to each other. I don’t care. My focus is on her, on the way her eyes will widen when she sees me, on the chance to fix what I broke.
I square my shoulders, take a slow, steadying breath, and step forward. No more running. No more hiding.
This is the moment I’ve been waiting for—the chance to face her, face everyone, and finally put my heart where my mouth is.
Her laughter stops mid-sentence, and my chest tightens. Quinn’s head turns, and our eyes meet. I see it immediately—shock, disbelief, a flicker of fear, and then... something softer, something that makes my stomach tighten. Relief. Hope.
She takes a step back, her hand flying to her mouth, and my heart leaps. She didn’t think I’d come. She didn’t think I’d show up. But here I am, and nothing—no mistake, argument, or missed day—can change how I feel.
Love hits me like a wave, fierce and undeniable. The mistakes, the guilt, the fear—they’re still there, but they’re drowned out by the simple truth: I can’t live without her. I won’t.
Determination settles over me like armor. Every step I take now, every word I speak, every gesture I make, will be about fixing this. About showing her, in front of everyone, that I’m here, I’m ready, and I love her—completely, irrevocably.
She takes another step toward me, hesitant, trembling, and my chest tightens again. I’ve dreamed of this moment for days, imagined it in a hundred different ways, but nothing could prepare me for seeing her—real, alive, in front of me—after all the hurt and distance.
Awe. That’s what I feel. Awe at her courage, beauty, and the love that refuses to let either of us give up.
And now, it’s time to show her just how far I’ll go to prove it.
I step onto the raised platform near the center of the huge hall, clearing my throat as the murmurs of the crowd hush. All eyes are on me now, and for a fleeting second, fear shoots through me. But then I see Quinn, standing a few feet away, eyes wide, her hand pressed to her chest, and I remember why I’m here.
“Good evening, Wrangler Creek,” I begin, my voice steady but carrying the weight of everything I’ve felt over the past days. “I know you’re all surprised to see me up here. Believe me, I am too, but it’s about time I make things right once and for all. I know I’ve made mistakes. Big ones. Mistakes that have hurt the people I care about, that have let down my family, friends, and this community. I’m standing here today not to make excuses, but to take responsibility.”
The crowd is quiet, listening, and I take a breath before continuing. “I’ve been reckless and made poor choices, but I’ve learned. I’ve grown. And I want to show you all that I am committed to being better—not just for myself, but for the people I love.”
I glance toward Quinn, feeling my heart tighten. “Miss Atwood has been my most incredible support through this. She believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself, and for that, I am forever grateful. She has my love, respect, and promise that I will never let her down again.”
From my jacket pocket, I pull out a folded check and hold it up for the crowd to see. “And as promised, here’s a check for fifty million dollars from the Morgans to Quinn Atwood for her development project. She deserves every opportunity to follow her dreams, and we are proud to support her in every way we can.”
Whispers ripple through the crowd—some impressed, some still skeptical. But I don’t care. This isn’t for them. It’s for her. I lower my eyes to Quinn, letting the sincerity of my words reach her directly.
“I am sorry, Quinn,” I add, my voice low but audible, “for everything I’ve done to hurt you. I am ready to do better, be better, for you, for us, and for the future we can have together.”
I step down from the platform, my gaze locked on hers, and the hum of the crowd fades into the background. The apology has been said. Now it’s time to see if she’ll let me in.
I take a deep breath, my heart hammering in my chest as I walk toward her. The crowd parts slightly, sensing something is about to happen, but I don’t care about them. I only care about her.
“Quinn,” I say softly, stopping in front of her, my hands slightly trembling. Her eyes search mine, wide and shining, and I see a mixture of hope, fear, and longing. “I’ve spent every day since I left thinking about how I could fix this, how I could show you that I mean everything I said, everything I promised.”
I drop to one knee, the world around us blurring, leaving only her. I reach into my pocket and pull out the small, velvet box, holding it up for her to see. The crowd murmurs softly behind us, but I can’t hear them; all I hear is the thudding of my own heart.
“Quinn Atwood,” I say, my voice thick with emotion, “I love you. I’ve loved you through every fight, every misunderstanding, every mistake. You’re my heart, my home, my future. Will you marry me? Will you be my partner for life, the mother of our children, the love I’ll never let go of?”
Her breath catches, and her hand flies to her mouth. Tears shimmer in her eyes, and I see the walls she’s built aroundherself crumble. “Yes,” she whispers, her voice trembling but filled with absolute certainty. “Yes, Beckett Gideon Morgan, I’ll marry you.”
