Page 167 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

Jessie:Me and you had our moment, Ty.

Tyler:It doesn’t mean I didn’t want a repeat. A do-over. A chance to do things right the second time around.

Jessie:Who knows what the future holds? Everyone’s always telling me things can change in an instant in this life.

Tyler:That’s because it’s true, Jessie. I'm not saying they didn’t deserve everything they had coming to them, but I’m sure those Colombian fellas had families waiting for them back home.

Jessie:Then I guess it makes you realize how precious every second is. And that we need to make sure each and every one of those seconds counts for something.

Tyler:Will you be heading back to New York after?

Jessie:Most likely. Dyl’s a Duster. It’s where they reign supreme. I meant what I said though. I’ll be living between. I’m not giving up Colton. Not ever again.

Tyler:Good to know.

We leave it there. What we shared is in the past. Did we have a future? I guess we’ll never know.

My phone vibrates again.

Jaine:Did your mom’s dress fit okay?

Jessie:It did, and it’s beautiful. Are you heading off soon?

Jaine:Yes, and I’ve chartered a flight for immediately after to get me out of Dodge pronto.

Jessie:Where are you meeting them again?

Jaine:At the Palace. I’m not a fan. It’s a bit too extravagant for my tastes.

Jessie:Will you need to dress up all fancy-like?

Jaine:Something like that.

Jessie:Well, let me know how you get on. After you let Jason Steele know, that is, given I’m only ranked number two.

Jaine:I’m pretty sure Dylan will become your number one ranking as soon as he becomes your husband, that’s if he isn’t already. Anyway, what are the plans for after?

Jessie:I’m not sure, but we’ll probably stick around for a few days before heading back to New York, so maybe we can catch up.

Jaine:I’d like that. You should come to Rising. Ace and I can show you around our hometown.

Jessie:Sounds like a plan.

St. Jude’s Church, Colton Nevada

I step out of the hired cage, and my gaze immediately drifts over the town church. The painted white building stands tall, its proud steeple reaching into the sky as though to part the heavens themselves.

A couple of new graves have been added since I was here last, the freshly turned soil a stark visual reminder that time marches on even in a sleepy little town like Colton.

Father Murphy shakes my daddy’s hand. He’s a short, portly man with rosacea cheeks likely caused by sampling too much communion wine. His appearance is finished off with a mop of untidy white hair. It’s strange seeing my daddy wearing a suit, but I guess him displaying the grand title of prez on his leather cut wouldn’t impress The Almighty all that much. It sure wouldn’t grant him a pass through those Pearly Gates no matter how much he threatened poor old St. Peter.

Everyone is already inside. Trepidation butterflies flutter through me. In less than twenty-four hours, my life has gone a full one-eighty.

Yesterday, Dylan belonged to someone else. Today, he’s mine. And shortly, we’ll be husband and wife.

We step into the church entrance, and the peace and tranquility of the place immediately washes over me and calms me down.

Sarah fixes my dress, gives me a vicelike hug and a kiss on the cheek, then makes her way inside.

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