Page 63 of Riding the Storm
He looks at me then, and for a second, everything else fades. There’s just the two of us, and that look ties me in knots. I swallow and look away, pretending to be focused on Matty showing her ring to Grandma Evelyn.
Imma Jean starts cutting the cake, passing out slices on paper plates. Matty feeds Caison a bite, laughing when he smears frosting on her nose. He kisses it off, and the crowd goes wild again.
“Lord have mercy,” Grandma says, fanning herself.
“What?” I ask.
“I just never thought I’d see the day our Matty would look this happy again,” she chokes out.
“Neither did we,” Shelby says with a grin, raising her glass.
“It’s my prayer for each of you,” Grandma says, her eyes watering.
The night rolls on, full of music and toasts and dancing in the dirt. Cabe and Royce keep tossing more wood on the bonfire, and the flames stretch high, sparks lifting into the endless Wyoming sky. A slow and sweet song comes over the Bluetooth speaker, and Caison pulls Matty close. She leans into him, her head against his chest, her fingers tracing the leather bracelet on her wrist.
Watching them, I feel that familiar tug in my chest. I wish Mom were here to see this. Oh, how she’d love Caison.
Shelby bumps my shoulder, reading my thoughts without me having to say a word. “You okay?” she asks softly.
I nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just … happy for her.”
She smiles knowingly. “Me too.”
We stand there together, watching our sister sway in the moonlight, wrapped up in the arms of a good man who earned her trust, her heart, her forever.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Shelby hisses under her breath suddenly.
I follow her eyes to where Waylon Ludlow—Holland and Priscilla’swayward son—is standing off to the side, beer in hand, watching the happy couple.
“Who, Waylon?” I say, shrugging. “He and Caison are childhood friends. I’m sure he invited him. Why?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m just surprised to see him, is all.”
Mom and Waylon’s mother were good friends, and we all used to play together when we were little. But he took off soon after he and Shelby graduated high school and hasn’t really been home since.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Surprised or happy?”
She tears her eyes from him, and they meet mine. “Why would I be happy?”
“Why would you be unhappy?”
She growls under her breath and stomps off.
What the hell was that?
Before I can read too much into it, Matty catches my eye across the crowd, and she grins through her tears.
I raise my glass to her, and she lifts hers back, mouthing,Thank you.
I don’t know if she means for the party, or the years we’ve stood by her, or just for being here, but either way, it hits me deep.
And for a moment, it feels like everything’s right in the world.
Shawn’s name flashes on my phone just as I’m finishing a cup of coffee on the porch.
“Morning, Ry,” he says in that too-bright tone that always means he’s about to rearrange my life.
“What’s up?” I mutter, skipping the pleasantries.
